118 63 23MB
English Pages 334 [335] Year 2023
Decolonial Politics in European Peripheries
Decolonial Politics in European Peripheries: Redefining Progressiveness, Coloniality and Transition Efforts is a timely contribution to the project of theorizing “Europe” through decolonial perspectives on the Left, as the European and global crisis has prompted new reflections on what it means to sit still at the European “peripheries”. The book explores how the joint scholarship efforts of postcolonial and postsocialist scholars might come up with better-grounded and more detailed theoretical and methodological insights into the process of globalization, and subsequent peripheralization, if framed under a progressive and leftist perspective. The authors, many from the South-East Europe region, use a variety of analytical lenses to demonstrate how the nexus of postcolonial, postsocialist area studies and progressive developmental political thought could inspire changes in the future which are in dissonance with neoliberal and neoconservative capitalism. As the side effects of global capitalism continue to accelerate, scholars and activists in the postsocialist periphery are increasingly turning to the concept of decoloniality in the hope that it might offer more options on how to begin to build up their framework. This book offers numerous examples of how decolonial theory can be applied to activist work in the fight against austerity and neoliberalization, as well as examples of how decolonial critique can be mobilized to contest processes of Europeanization and Euro-Atlantic integration. This book will intrigue students and scholars of critical social scholarship in general as well as postsocialism and postcolonialism, critiques of right populism and the rise of white nationalism in Europe, and those studying the regions of South-Eastern Europe and Eurasia more generally. It will also interest activists, organizers, decision-makers, policy analysts, and leftists, both in the region and internationally. Sanja S. Petkovska obtained a PhD degree in Cultural Studies from the Faculty of Political Sciences at the University of Belgrade, Serbia, and previous academic degrees in Cultural Sociology and Adult Education from the Faculty of Philosophy at the same university. She works at the Institute of Criminological and Sociological Research in Belgrade, Serbia, as a Research Fellow and her research revolves around the domains of critical theory, human–animal relations, knowledge production, cultural studies, violence, and public policies.
Southeast European Studies Series Editor: Florian Bieber
The Balkans are a region of Europe widely associated over the past decades with violence and war. Beyond this violence, the region has experienced rapid change in recent times though, including democratization, economic and social transformation. New scholarship is emerging which seeks to move away from the focus on violence alone to an understanding of the region in a broader context drawing on new empirical research. The Southeast European Studies Series seeks to provide a forum for this new scholarship. Publishing cutting-edge, original research and contributing to a more profound understanding of Southeastern Europe while focusing on contemporary perspectives the series aims to explain the past and seeks to examine how it shapes the present. Focusing on original empirical research and innovative theoretical perspectives on the region the series includes original monographs and edited collections. It is interdisciplinary in scope, publishing high-level research in political science, history, anthropology, sociology, law and economics and accessible to readers interested in Southeast Europe and beyond. For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/South east-European-Studies/book-series/ASHSER1390 The Media as a Tool of International Intervention House of Cards Nidžara Ahmetašević The Balkan Route Hope, Migration and Europeanisation in Liminal Spaces Robert Rydzewski Decolonial Politics in European Peripheries Redefining Progressiveness, Coloniality and Transition Efforts Edited by Sanja S. Petkovska Migration, EU Integration and the Balkan Route Edited by Marko Kmezić, Alexandra Prodromidou and Pavlos Gkasis
Decolonial Politics in European Peripheries Redefining Progressiveness, Coloniality and Transition Efforts Edited by Sanja S. Petkovska
First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 selection and editorial matter, Sanja S. Petkovska; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Sanja S. Petkovska to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Petkovska, Sanja S., editor. Title: Decolonial politics in European peripheries : redefining progressiveness, coloniality and transition efforts / edited by Sanja S. Petkovska. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2024. | Series: Southeast European studies | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023030736 (print) | LCCN 2023030737 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032160351 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032160382 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003246848 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Post-communism–Balkan Peninsula. | Postcolonialism–Balkan Peninsula. | Neoliberalism–Balkan Peninsula. | Balkan Peninsula–Politics and government–1989– Classification: LCC JN97.A58 D44 2024 (print) | LCC JN97.A58 (ebook) | DDC 320.5109496–dc23/eng/20230825 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023030736 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023030737 ISBN: 978-1-032-16035-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-16038-2 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-24684-8 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848 Typeset in Times New Roman by Newgen Publishing UK
Contents
List of Contributors Acknowledgements Introduction
viii x 1
S A N J A S . P E T K OVS KA
PART I
Is There a Way Out of the Boomerang of Postsocialism?
13
1 Production of Knowledge, Class Struggle, and the Postsocialist Condition
15
SVEN CVEK
2 Conceptualizing the Inequalities in Knowledge Production and Drawing the Prospects for Postsocialist Studies
38
S A N J A S . P E T K OVS KA
PART II
Decolonizing Perspectives on Migration and Leftist Politics and Policies
57
3 Care Extractivism in Migration Flows from Postsocialist to Southern Europe and Care Municipalism as a Decolonizing Project
59
A N G E L I N A K U S S Y AND Ł UKAS Z MOL L
vi Contents
4 Postsocialist Migration from North Macedonia: The Case of “Work and Travel” Students in the USA. Is the American Dream Still Alive?
76
I R E N A AV I R O V I C BUNDAL E VS KA
5 Neocolonial Migration Policies, EU Resilience, and the Role of Greece: Critique and the Possibility of Alternatives
90
C O S TA S G O U SI S AND AL KI S T I P RE P I
6 Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies: Notes from Borderlands
110
N E R G I S C A N EF E
PART III
Intersectional Decolonization and a Struggle for Recognition and Empowerment
127
7 Beyond Multiculturalism: Minority Intellectuals in the Postsocialist Predicament of Southeast Europe
129
F R A N C E S C O TRUP I A
8 “Thank You For Not Attending”: The Relevance of the Issue of Sociocultural Inequalities in the Process of Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia
145
I VA N A V E S I Ć
9 “Slaves in Our Country”: Postcolonialism or Neocolonialism? Dynamics of Nationalism in Romania and the Rise of the Populist Right
170
VA L E N T I N Q U I NT US NI COL E S CU
PART IV
Coming to Terms with the Nation(s) Again
189
10 Leadership Rent and Patronage in the EU Global Strategy Evolution
191
O X A N A K A R NAUKHOVA
11 Conservative Use of Postcolonial Rhetoric: The Polish and Czech Cases O N D Ř E J S L A ČÁL E K
207
Contents vii
12 “Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary”: The Visitors’ Comments at the Museum of the Macedonian Struggle in Skopje and the Reception of History and Memory Narratives in North Macedonia (2011–2014)
221
N A U M T R A J A N OVS KI AND I VANA HADJI E VS KA
13 From “Air War” to “Partnership for Peace”: NATO’s Relations with Serbia from the Left Perspective
243
G O R A N M A R K OVI Ć AND I VI CA ML ADE NOVI Ć
PART V
Rethinking the Transition Model and Imagining the Different Future Politics of the Former Socialist Countries
255
14 No Escape from Coloniality? Comparing Geopolitical (Self-)imagination in the Former Soviet Periphery
257
P H I L I P P L O T T HOL Z AND P OL I NA MANOL OVA
15 A Colonial Expedition in the Balkans: Ethnography as Primitive Accumulation During the First World War
277
C H R I S T I N A N OVAKOV- R I T CHE Y
16 Colonies in Interwar Europe? The Balkan Communist Parties as Precursors of Anticolonialism
297
S T E FA N G U Ž VI CA
Index
319
Contributors
Irena Avirovic Bundalevska, Faculty of Philosophy, Ss. Cyril and Methodius University in Skopje, North Macedonia Nergis Canefe, York University in Toronto, Canada Sven Cvek, Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences, University of Zagreb, Croatia Costas Gousis, Eteron –Institute for Research and Social Change in Athens, Greece Stefan Gužvica, Institute for Philosophy and Social Theory in Belgrade, Serbia; Department of History, National Research University Higher School of Economics in Saint Petersburg, Russia Ivana Hadjievska, The State Archives in Bitola, North Macedonia Oxana Karnaukhova, Institute of History and International Relations, Southern Federal University, Russia Angelina Kussy, Autonomous University of Barcelona, Spain Philipp Lottholz, Center for Conflict Studies, Philipps-University of Marburg, Germany Polina Manolova, University of Tübingen, Germany Goran Marković, Faculty of Law, University of East Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina Ivica Mladenović, The Institute for Philosophy and Social Theory, University of Belgrade, Serbia Łukasz Moll, Institute of Sociology, University of Wrocław, Poland Valentin Quintus Nicolescu, National University of Political Studies and Public Administration in Bucharest, Romania Christina Novakov-Ritchey, University of Houston –Clear Lake, Huston, Texas, USA
Contributors ix Sanja S. Petkovska, Institute of Criminological and Sociological Research in Belgrade, Serbia Alkisti Prepi, School of Architecture, National Technical University of Athens, Greece Ondřej Slačálek, Faculty of Arts, Charles University, Czech Republic Naum Trajanovski, Faculty of Sociology, University of Warsaw, Poland Francesco Trupia, Faculty of Humanities, Nicolaus Copernicus University in Toruń, Poland Ivana Vesić, The Institute of Musicology, Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts in Belgrade, Serbia
Acknowledgements
The collection in front of you is, above all, the result of my firm belief that such a book is needed on the global academic scene, empowered by the circumstances that were in favour of its emergence. Above all, I am thankful to the Senior Editor, Emily Ross, for recognizing the importance of our idea and patiently leading me through the submission process. Intense gratefulness I would like to express also to the Commissioning Editor on Global Politics & International Relations, Lydia de Cruz, and Series Editor on Southeast European Studies, Professor of the University of Graz, Dr Florian Bieber. After Ms Ross suddenly left Routledge, the two mentioned Editors were kind to accept the almost finalized manuscript and facilitate its finalization. An impulse which has led to the emergence of the idea of book creation originated from the international workshop “Dialoguing between the posts 2.0 workshop: (im)possible dialogue between the progressive forces of the ‘posts’ ”, which occurred on 15 June 2019 at the Faculty of Political Sciences in Belgrade organized in cooperation with a colleague, Špela Drnovšek Zorko, and financially supported by the Leverhulme Trust from the UK. Many promising scholars working on the topic of the state of postsocialism took part in that event and contributed to demonstrating how postcolonial scholarship might be thought of in the context of understanding the geopolitical transformations the fall of socialist regimes has caused. I am likewise grateful to the founder of the Department for Cultural Studies at the Faculty of Political Sciences, Professor Jelena Đorđević, for the opportunity to move the fields of regional critical social sciences and humanities forward and for supporting the organization of the workshop. The dean of the Faculty of Political Sciences, Professor Dragan Simić, deserves a special endorsement for hosting the international scholars on this occasion and opening up our university for innovative models of collaboration. I am particularly grateful to all the workshop participants who arrived in Belgrade from many sides of the world in the summer of 2019 and inspired me to advance the discussions then opened into the book project. Getting associated with Dialoguing Posts Network for me has been moving in terms of returning to faith in academic endeavours and levelling them up to the international level, which has not been so easy in the past few decades for the researchers coming from Serbia.
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Acknowledgements xi The massive gratitude goes to all the authors who managed to prepare meaningful contributions despite the obstacles and challenges we all face in pursuing our dreams from the hardship of the peripheries of knowledge production and dissemination systems. I am really happy I had a chance to get in touch with all these people and it has been an honour to have them working on the topic of progressive policies in the context of postsocialist transitions with thoughtful and engaging pieces. My large family of a unique history and origin not only shaped my position as a person and researcher but also provided me with a special and unique angle from which I have experienced unprecedented events of the fall of Yugoslavia. Growing up in Central Serbia, the City of Belgrade, while of mixed origin (which includes North Macedonian, Croatian, Montenegrin, and Serbian origins) has been challenging and caused my deep passion for the social sciences and humanities since only they provided me with the apparatuses to understand the history and political transformation I have witnessed during the past four decades. Finally, it is worth mentioning that while I was completing this collection and after a few years of operating as an independent researcher, I was awarded the academic recognition of scientific associate (equivalent to the teaching title of assistant professor) which enabled me to insert the so-far achievements into building an official academic career. Shortly thereafter, I got promoted to an academic post at the Institute of Criminological and Sociological Research (ICSR) in Belgrade. I would like to thank Dr Ivana Stevanović, the director, for the warm and collegial welcome. All the colleagues and employees of the ICSR made me feel like the future for knowledge producers of the peripheries is not as depressing as it seems sometimes. On the contrary, be it destiny or something else, the lucky events empowered my professional belief that it is more than ever important to remain at the peripheries and contribute to the growth of disadvantaged knowledge production systems from here. For me, these all were positive signs which will hopefully lead to the consequent future advancement in the same direction.
Introduction Sanja S. Petkovska
This edited volume follows the efforts to engage the currents of postcolonial and decolonial theory and apply them to the problems surrounding the growing interest in former socialist countries. In the summer of 2019, a Dialoguing between the posts 2.0 workshop: (im)possible dialogue between the progressive forces of the “posts” has been organized at the Faculty of Political Science of the University of Belgrade, Serbia. This event was associated with the Dialoguing Posts Network (DPN) founded by a group of scholars active in the British International Studies Association (BISA) (South-East Europe working group) who in 2017 organized a similar workshop (it has been named Dialoguing “between the posts”, Postsocialist and post-/decolonial perspectives on domination, hierarchy, and resistance in South-Eastern Europe). The previous workshop also was held in Belgrade, but in the Faculty of Media and Communications of Singidunum University, a private university. The basic idea was to engage the scholars of the region into the most advanced, critically grounded international knowledge production in the field of social sciences and humanities. While having a lot of doubts and criticism of a decolonial option as articulated by Madina V. Tlostanova and Walter Mignolo, prominent figures within this academic initiative of connecting postcolonialism and postsocialism; all the so far associated researchers with the DPN project were deeply influenced by this idea. At the second DPN-associated workshop, the necessity to explore the progressive capacities of the concept of decoloniality in looking for the responses to the ongoing global crises was raised up. Professor Tlostanova gave the key lecture in 2019 which was thought-provoking for many participants and caused many discussions and debates later. The postcolonial theory has often been labelled as confusing and mere academic practice with no actual means to influence the political life as meant to be “art for art’s sake” – therefore, its application to the postsocialist condition could not be expected to be easy. However, the general feeling shared among the researchers present at both international workshops in Belgrade seemed to be that the application of postcolonial theory to former socialist states could demonstrate the relevance and importance of the phenomena occurring in the geographical spaces of former socialism(s) for understanding the overall global situation. The new analyses based on the ethnographic evidence could, it started to be expected, DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-1
2 Sanja S. Petkovska provide more evidence on the discrepancy between “the promise of the transitional paradigm” of rising growth of the South-Eastern European peripheries and what, in practice, it does create as an effect of the implementation of the policies of Europeanization and postdating the trends of ongoing geopolitical reorganization of a neocolonial mode of production and governing designed for the peripheries of a globalized world in the global centres of geopolitical power. The “Other” side of modernity If the spectre of communism haunted the modern Europe of the nineteenth century, now it seems the global world has reached the point at which the nonexistence of anything like a hint of “spectre” on the horizon of social and political thought, is haunting us all. The researchers, scholars, activists, and reflexive political actors seem to stay in the background of events; just observing a global triumph of dominant neoconservative, neoliberal and authoritarian politics that are imposing the austerity measures and re-rationalization, deemed to triumph at the peak of the postcapitalist era. Among the rest of the most striking features of current capitalism’s conjuncture seem to be overtaking the processes of knowledge production and distribution by the ideas on a new paradigm of knowledge production, spoken of as “cognitive capitalism”, aligned to the strategies of de- industrialization and peripheralization of a growing number of countries across the globe (Cvijanovic et al. 2010). The centralizing geopolitical alliances are pressing smaller again, while the rise of the standard of living, opposing the uncontrollable precarity, antimilitaristic and cosmopolitan stances –seem less popular and appealing than ever, particularly among the youth. Suppose we generalize the post-1989 situation globally and from a political perspective. In that case, we will probably conclude, instead, like Mihályi and Szelenyi, that even the number of countries to be defined as nondemocratic, illiberal, and nonfree is growing on a global level (Mihályi and Szelenyi 2020). Not only the peripheral countries of the former “Second” and “Third World” increasingly are labelled under such backward, authoritarian tendencies within this global triumph of cognitive postcapitalism. Furthermore, there seems to be no slightest indication of some kind of “light” that might peek from the remains of modern, emancipatory, rational European thought to shake up its horizon after “the posts”; firmly determined to bury almost all the remaining progressive modern ideas up. After many exhausting and infamous episodes of the history of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, it is harder and harder to stay open to, even on a theoretical and ideational level, the deeper meaning of a story about “the spectre which haunted Europe”, even for researchers and scholars of social sciences and humanities. At this moment, an edited volume titled Decolonial Politics in European Peripheries: Redefining Progressiveness, Coloniality and Transition Efforts might seem a bit ambitious task for just a small group of young scholars interested in South-Eastern Europe. However, because the historical moment in which we live does not leave much space for any kind of extensive and critically grounded
Introduction 3 historical and theoretical analyses, they seem needed more than ever; for preserving the motive of critical scholarship and its social and historical role. The “promise of Enlightenment” according to which humanity is heading to the freedom and equality of living for all the people of the world is the essential assumption according to which modern governing models should be functioning, founded in the ideals of science, reason, and global progress. They, however, do not affect the globe with an equivalent effect, or what is worse, ended up in “barbarism” following their own logic of “good ideas and intentions”, as the Frankfurt school famously concluded (Gieben and Hall 1993: 4). The most prominent contemporary approaches of critical theory are nowadays occupied with the condition called “a global coloniality”, pointing to the oppressive inequalities to which most of the people of the world still are subjected to, which represent the “dark” or a “darker” side of modernity (Alexander 2013; Mignolo 2011). A contemporary decolonial thought was formulated and built up in response to this state of globalized coloniality and disbalance of power. Still, it appears as not so easily transferable to the politics, problems, and everyday situations most countries and peoples of the global peripheries face. Thus, this book’s aim is twofold: (1) to initiate search for new epistemological, theoretical, and methodological path for understanding and analyzing inequalities on a global and local level; (2) to analyze the transforming processes the former socialist countries experience, as a unique phenomenon of importance to articulate the layers of diversification and territorialization within the rapidly changing world. On a global level, we might state that most Eastern regions have been systematically ignored and assumed irrelevant for quite a while, particularly regarding the knowledge production, the “knowledge producers”. It is almost a fact that what shaped their understanding and representation on a global geopolitical map often comes as a form of racism and implicit belief of its civilizational deficiency and inferiority. The first attempts of “Easterners” to re-articulate their representation in a global imaginary occurred recently, by a few of the authors from Eastern Europe. Among others before in a certain way, Maria Todorova in her book Imagining the Balkans, started to connect the postcolonial, poststructural problematics to understanding the positionality of the Easterners and the Eastern European spaces (Todorova 1997; Tlostanova 2015). However, the opposition between “the developed West”, or “the centre” of the world-system map, and the “Second World” as “projected periphery” has never been put under serious critical scrutiny. In one earlier book, The Origins of Backwardness in Eastern Europe: Economics and Politics from the Middle Ages until the early twentieth century, Daniel Chirot persuasively demonstrated that a similar conflicting dynamic existed throughout history and before the rise of the socialist regimes in Europe and further East of Europasian continent. Therefore, although the “Easterners” of Europe are mostly white and have originated from the countries which were accomplishing almost the same level of modern and industrial development, once upon a time, as the core capitalist countries did, they are, on a global level: in international relations and intergovernmental diplomacy, understood and even frequently publicly named as “backwards”, “barbarous” and similar. Moreover, the lack of good quality studies
4 Sanja S. Petkovska of Eastern Europe and the absence of globally recognized local researchers has often been pointed to; since the first emergence of edited volumes belonging to the studies of postsocialism, which is still hardly identifiable body of international knowledge (Kołodziejczyk and Şandru 2012). Hopefully, this collection will be a further advance in a new wave in social studies and humanities, forming a new wave of firm knowledge production in postsocialist, a new branch of the area studies. In addition, this collection aims to provoke and inspire a re-thinking of the contemporary meaning of social progress, especially its applicability to South-Eastern Europe. The “promise of Enlightenment” has been much more than an intellectual, or a purely political ambition; it has been an overall project of developmental modernization framed by policies which, as Immanuel Wallerstein quite well articulated in After Liberalism, silently disappeared from our historical horizon, while no one gave it a proper notice (Wallerstein 1995). As a result, global (or we might call it to post, cognitive, uneven, combined) capitalism has entered a permanent and perpetual worldwide crisis stage, while the conceptual and analytical apparatuses needed to comprehend the given contemporary reality are still missing. The meaning of progressivism today From the intellectual, theoretical, and epistemological points of view, capitalism has entered a stage of very complex crises. Like the entire global society is under question, the actual “COVID-19 crisis” is just one more in the queue of breaking- through crises, just at the start, tough to comprehend. The modernity has exhausted itself in the postmodernism –“the cultural logic of late capitalism” (Jameson 1992). It has been articulated as not only a crisis of the domination of Western Europe based on the progressive ideas of a political order grounded in the concepts of rational, self-governing, and self-sufficient subjects. The “postmodern turn” furthermore meant a crisis of the concept of a human being, of a human race, and civilization as such. At the same time, it has brought the impoverishment of the human condition for many regions and states: a downgrade of the standards achieved during the phase of welfare state policies, the climate and nuclear hazards, obstructions of the forces of “reason” in actual political processes, military conflicts, distrust in sciences. Above all, postmodernism caused a deep crisis of the social sciences and humanities, continual “attacks” on their status and legitimacy, making particularly the arguments coming from the “peripheral researchers” weaker on a global scene. In a way, postcolonial theory has been one of the final stages and developments of the postmodern line of thought, primarily pursued by displaced intellectuals from the academies of the Global North. For most of the postcolonial thought, imperialism has been the main enemy, not capitalism or colonialism, nor even poverty of the Global South and the “East”. Furthermore, this global crisis also meant new forms of coloniality, inequalities, and subjugation. The subjugated people, countries, and territories are growing. At the same time, there is no concept of a human agent, a subject, on which any emancipatory and progressive movement inspired by political equality could rely. Equality and social human rights are slowly but
Introduction 5 steadily becoming “a taboo problem”. However, at least officially, progress is still one of the leading concepts on the agenda of humanity, and its meaning still designates the mission to improve the human condition by means of political action and social reform, i.e., policies and governance mechanisms. A final blow for the progressive politics and policies, which should rely on a radical concept of human beings, has been the internal collapse of the critical reason, commenced by Western Marxism’s distancing from a project of Marxism. The Frankfurt school started with Marxist theoreticians, to end up with their adoption of the “liberal democracy” as a global political framework. The ideology of a worldwide capitalist liberal democracy de- radicalized social movements across the globe, which were once upon a time quite powerful social and geopolitical actors. It created the global condition of ignoring the material reality that capitalism has brought us to, while at the same time erased the imagination and knowledge of alternative development models. In addition, scholars have been likewise de-radicalized, and their ambition was lowered by a lack of in-depth and evidence-based scrutiny, caused by the hardship coming out of the situation on the side of the political economy of knowledge production. Post-positivistic degradation of the value of empirical, thick qualitative research is constantly preventing us from getting a more general overview of how to compare the given state of progress, to different points of history or places of the world; we know nothing about to be able to get a better sense of the new type of international politics –based on equality and solidarity which could refer to “progressive humanism” in response to overall antiprogressive; even anti-Enlightening academic and political trends. The work of two prominent figures of postcolonial thought, Edward Said and Gayatri Spivak remained ambivalent towards the empirical world and political economy; likewise, was the case with postcolonial theory as such developed under their formative influence: grounded in ignoring the internal problem of modern knowledge articulated by Snow as a problem of “two cultures” (Snow 2013). An issue of “two cultures” refers not only to an abyss between the narrative and analytical type of knowledge, the overall triumph of positivism accompanied by the concept of “hard science”; which made a deep chasm between theoretical and empirical research –but also, it points to a hiatus within progressive project backgrounded by critical social thought where superstructure, and culture –won the battle. For a critical social overview, the close tights between humanities and social sciences are crucial and keep up the unity of sciences by mutually strengthening reciprocity between the natural and social science branches. The frontiers of postmodern and postcolonial critical theory haven’t proportionally combined the critique of imperialism with the empirical inquiry of existing globally conditioned intersectional inequality at all levels and domains. The recent critical social scholarship finds it almost impossible to refer to its core sources and achieve more like a project-looking ambition. In a book recently published under the title After Said: Postcolonial Literary Studies in the Twenty-First Century, edited by Bashir Abu-Manneh, which in general is trying to map the future direction for progressive postcolonial research and thought, one of the contributors, Dougal McNeill, clearly and correctly stated that the future program for progressive politics should
6 Sanja S. Petkovska at the same time offer both a political platform and an excellent analytical research program tackling the space between the paradigm of modernist emancipation and the role of capital in a global imperial context (Abu-Manneh 2019: 161). However, many of the problems of the progressive left thought and politics, especially after postcolonial theory, also joined the systemic “ignorance related to the problem of the East”, increased. Within the postcolonialism, it seems, it never got properly recognized that the concerns they are facing are quite like those as people from the former USSR and other former socialist countries, now known as “post-socialist” – are going through. That “omission” is obvious, also in this book. It is a fact, since none of the authors of the above-mentioned collection had tried to connect the crisis of critical theory based in progressive political thought (the “global soft, postmodern, and multicultural left”); to the issues which, by the authors of the East, South-East Europe, and the Balkans were named as “the post-socialist condition” (Petkovska 2019; Pupovac 2008). This omission is exemplary for many other postcolonial and more comprehensive critical theory works and presents a gap that this collection aims to start to intervene from. “Post(de/colonial)”-socialist conjuncture and the future of advanced scholarship On the other hand, the geopolitical situation dramatically changed when the Russo- Ukrainian war escalated again, in 2022, with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Since the end of the Cold War, progressive emancipatory politics have been only in a defensive stance rather than proactive, balancing the side of critical thought with the side of emancipatory leftist politics. The entirely antimilitaristic and pacifistic views remained unpopular even during the current eruption of the old tensions between the West and East, on a global level. The utopian progressive energy of the social movements of the 70s ceased to refer to emancipation as a roof term, especially in the post-’68 world. The concept itself lost its explanatory power; after the increasing popularity of structural Marxism, following globalization and the rise of neoliberal and austerity measures that have strengthened the neoconservative turn at a global policy scale, particularly. Because of the growing popularity of “postmodern” and postcolonial intellectuals in the global public, “decolonisation”, step by step, started to act as a grounding concept on a global level. It aimed to encompass all the remained progressive emancipatory tendencies related to the politics of differences, or identity politics. Despite having low and degraded global status, the countries of the East and South-East of Europe for quite a long time were not included within the concepts of post/ decolonization or even peripheralization in academic scholarship. Nevertheless, obviously, countries never achieved a “sufficient” level of full national sovereignty in the post-Second World War history, at least not in the eyes of the EU countries, and for the rest of the “developed” world. Therefore, the “Easterners” (or, more precisely, the “Eastern European and former socialist countries) were subjected directly to some other centre of the political power of now a multipolar world (Russia, the EU, the US, China, etc.); they haven’t understood
Introduction 7 themselves as colonies because no other colonial, distant super-power invaded or conquered them, but their closer neighbours –Hungarians, Austrians, Ottomans, and the others. This distinction, despite being significant, is not a complete obstacle to creating parallels and comparisons with the former colonies of the “Third World” or now the Global South. After being intellectually “discovered” by modern European thinkers during the Cold War under the USSR’s domination, most “Eastern” countries now in the Balkans and outside the Russian Federation – were observed mainly as historically irrelevant places, even for more intensive presence and exploitation. Even Marx attributed the phrase “people without history” to the Balkan region, alluding to its inferiority and lack of importance for the global history. However, “the shadow persists because the idea of the ‘Eastern Europe’ remains, even without the Iron Curtain” (Wolff 1994: 3). The Balkans became a target for the “epistemological objectification” imposed by the “Western science” and “Western politics”; especially after the Yugoslavian war and the fall of South-Slavic’s federation, which has secured them a status of “Thirds” within the EU federation. Moreover, the overall degradation and peripheralization of the former socialist countries and the postcolonial studies themselves started to be thought of through the lenses of late neocolonization. The fascinating fact is that neither the geopolitical partnership known as the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM) did produce nor fostered any considerable independent body of scholarship or considerable intellectual alliances between the Second and Third Worlds. It took a pretty while for Spivak’s A Critique of Postcolonial Reason: Toward a History of the Vanishing Present (1999) to directly influence Eastern scholars. Madina Tlostanova’s chapter Can the post-Soviet think? On coloniality of knowledge, external imperial and double colonial difference from 2015 is such example of liaisons (Tlostanova 2015). Although influential postcolonial authors were translated into Serbian, they were not included in the research, and no institution had a separate course in postcolonial theory recently. By the beginning of the twenty-first century, the conditions under which the social reproduction is happening across the globe are equated via numerous policies and agreements; especially after the fall of communism, when the idea of a global market became a shared reality. The need to connect all the various streams of research on the former “ ‘de-’, ‘post-’, and ‘anti-’ colonial worlds” with the initial impulse to understand what is happening with the former communist countries under the process of globalization appears to be crucial; not only for grasping the nature of globalization but also to remind of the false promise of the transition to modernity: the false promise of development for every country of the world if following the model of capitalist liberal democracies. Both former colonial states and former socialist states face increasing impoverishment, and their status is continuously hitting the downward path. Postsocialist, post-Soviet, and post-Yugoslav countries are probably on the same “page of development” as African or Latin American countries. Nowhere, a question of what the alternative would be to these degrading trends, and nowhere the question if all the “Easterners” have become a part of the phenomenon of “subordinated development” –has been imposed seriously so far (Sawaya 2019).
8 Sanja S. Petkovska Decolonization is a term that does help us to approach this growing developmental subjugation of the “Easterners” within global critical thought and knowledge production-related policies. Although it is dominantly a term referring to the political emancipation of former colonies, for scholars, it promises to represent “much more”. It serves a role of a basis for imagining a new concept of (collective and international) consciousness, at the same time, a political project for the global times of the cognitive capitalist or postcapitalist stage. Even though decolonization mostly became a “buzzword”, operationalized differently from the side of different authors, in a variety of their epistemological, theoretical, and political approaches; decolonization has the potential to ground a better understanding of what states and individuals of the growing and “deserting post-socialist peripheries” are experiencing (Horvat and Stiks 2015). A few scholars recently did offer a refreshing overview of how to understand decolonization. The book of a political scientist Adom Getachew, a professor at the University of Chicago, is worth mentioning. In Worldmaking after Empire: The Rise and Fall of Self-Determination (2019), Getachew defines decolonization as a process which has political, economic, cultural, and epistemic dimensions, while its crucial characteristics are related to the goal of overthrowing and overcoming the dependencies and subjugations towards the most extensive historical colonial Empire(s). Moreover, these three dimensions work simultaneously; thus, achieving sovereign independence and a right to national self-determination goes together with a political goal for every state to achieve a status of self-sufficiency and independence from a former colonial ruler, based on economic exploitation. Finally, all of this is only possible –under the condition of producing the knowledge outside the matrices of the “Eurocentric centres” of modern, high civilization; and of designing the new model of development for every single nation of the world, which is a project still lacking. The most important historical contributions made by the Easterners, and the “Second World” in general, towards a more “third world-ish”, “decolonial” benchmark –probably are those related to the project of Yugoslavia, the fall of this socialist federal state. The Post-Yugoslavian wars of the 90s and the NATO bombing could be interpreted as the “last instance” examples of neo-colonialism or “colonialism-by-other -means”, since no such international military intervention has been pursued on the European continent before. The transition process for “Easterners” commenced even more shockingly in other domains: especially the fast privatization processes that obstructed a gradual recovery of the market and economy is worth mentioning here. Instead of more democracy, it seems that all the Global South and the “Global East” have got with transition is –more poverty, more capitalism, less competitive production structure, less capable knowledge production agency and distribution infrastructure; less global relevance, less attention from the side of a global public, and finally, no foreseeable model of development and growth they could rely on. There is, it seems, no other option for Easterners than to start working on finding a joint framework with the Global South, from which to respond to the restraints and constraints of contemporary capitalism’s conjuncture they are subjected to, coming from both the division of labour within
Introduction 9 the global production sector and the (global) neoliberal governing instances that will grasp the humanity out of its feet to prove their achievements are the best one, right and good for every region and country of the stagnant “developing world”. A summary of the chapters The first part of the book deals with the pursuit for the epistemological overcome of the obstacles for the studies of postsocialism –and empowerment of knowledge production to emerge –in the region of East and South-Eastern Europe. By opening the floor for critical social examinations of a given global state to produce some effect in changing the social and political consciousness of the situation that the entire postsocialist region is facing, the authors are dealing with the epistemological and theoretical grounds for the future “dialogues between the posts”. Sven Cvek raises questions about the relationship between knowledge production, work transformations, and class struggles –in other words, how the ongoing transformations in postsocialist Croatia are interpreted in politics and social sciences. On the other hand, the main aim of a chapter by Sanja S. Petkovska is to contribute to the theories and methodologies for studying the inequalities of the systems of knowledge production and distribution, by, firstly, systematizing the existing conceptual apparatus consisting of notions such as centre-periphery, academic dependency, and a decolonial option, etc., and later by examining the basis for the empowerment of knowledge production in the Eastern peripheries. The second part of the book is entirely dedicated to the problem of migration and the introduction of the concept of decolonization into migration studies and policies. In the opening chapter, Angelina Kussy and Łukasz Moll presented an impressive ethnography of the Polish community of car-givers in Spain. On the other hand, Irena Avirovic Bundalevska provides the work and travel exchange ethnography between North Macedonia and the United States and analyses how this experience affected the exchange students. Costas Gousis and Alkisti Prepi deal with the issue of how the peripheries of the EU, especially Greece, have responded to the two big crises it recently faced: a debt crisis and a migrant crisis in 2015, and analyze the migration policies developed in this context. Nergis Canefe in her contribution to the volume titled Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies: Notes from Borderlands applied the concept of decolonization to the field of migration studies. She was especially interested in the problem of forced migration and considered shifting the “geographies of reason”, starting with a foundational critique of moralism and privilege, marking canonized understandings of migration, precarity, displacement, and dispossession. The third part of the book deals with the issues of subjugation and empowerment of marginalized groups within the efforts they are making towards recognition. Francesco Trupia demonstrates how minority intellectuals are operating in South-East Europe by reviving Gramsci’s concepts and dealing with the limits of the concept within the paradigm of multiculturalism. Ivana Vesić is developing a class analysis of cultural policies of post-Milosević Serbia. Valentin Quintus
10 Sanja S. Petkovska Nicolescu, in his chapter, deals with how the postcolonial historical experiences, neocolonial global policies, and underdevelopment are shaping the nationalist discourses of Romania as a postsocialist periphery. The difficulties related to the nation in the context of globalizing tendencies and geopolitical grouping are analyzed by four authors. Oxana Karnaukhova, in her chapter, addresses the EU Global Strategy towards Asia as the patronage manifestation, a specific form of postcolonial approach towards leadership. What decolonization might designate for Poland and the Czech Republic and elaborated on the reception of postcolonial theory and its conservative usage analyses, Ondřej Slačálek. The chapter written by Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska provides a closer look at one of the most protuberant cultural legacies of the second VMRO-DPMNE rule: the “Museum of the Macedonian Struggle –Museum of the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization –Museum of the Victims of the Communist Regime” opened the city centre of Skopje; and with its public reception of it. The concluding chapter for this part is written by Ivica Mladenović and Goran Marković. They argue that the different position of Milošević’s regime in the geopolitical events would quite certainly produce a positive attitude of that regime towards NATO, since the administration did not have any principle ideological reasons to be anti-NATO, while providing some arguments for preserving the military neutrality of Serbia. The fifth and final part of the book looks forward to the prospects of the progressive stances towards the postsocialist’s neocolonial status and a lack of developmental options and policies for the region. It starts with a chapter about the presence of the past within the conceptual imaginary of decolonization in Bulgaria and Kyrgyzstan, supported by the empirical ethnographic survey, written by Polina Manolova and Philipp Lottholz. Afterwards, the final part continues with the analyses of the colonial expeditions in the Balkans examined by Christina Novakov- Ritchey in the context they played in contributing to the primitive accumulation of capital in First World War Balkans. In the end, Stefan Gužvica analyzes the Balkans within the global imperialist systems, while demonstrating some similarities between the geopolitical positioning of the Balkans in further history with the current problems, with the aim of examining the future perspectives, while offering the postcolonial reading of the idea of Balkan federation in the post-Second World War Marxist thought. References Abu-Manneh, B. (Ed.). (2019) After Said: Postcolonial Literary Studies in the Twenty-First Century. Cambridge University Press. Alexander, J. C. (2013). The Dark Side of Modernity. 1st edition. Polity. Cvijanovic, V., Fumagalli, A., & Vercellone, C. (Eds.). (2010). Cognitive Capitalism and Its Reflections in South-Eastern Europe (New edition). Peter Lang GmbH, Internationaler Verlag der Wissenschaften. Gieben, B., & Hall, S. (Eds.). (1993). The Formations of Modernity: Understanding Modern Societies an Introduction Book 1 (1st edition). Polity.
Introduction 11 Horvat, S., & Štiks, I. (Eds.). (2015). Welcome to the Desert of Post-Socialism: Radical Politics after Yugoslavia. Verso. Jameson, F. (1992). Postmodernism or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism. Duke University Press. Kołodziejczyk, D., Şandru, C. (2012). Introduction: On colonialism, communism and east- central Europe –some reflections. Journal of Postcolonial Writing, 48, 113–116. https:// doi.org/10.1080/17449855.2012.658242 Mignolo, W. D. (2011). The Darker Side of Western Modernity: Global Futures, Decolonial Options. Durham, NC: Duke University Press (Latin America Otherwise). Mihályi, P., & Szelenyi, I. (2020). “The two forms of modern capitalism: liberal and illiberal states: a criticism of the varieties of capitalism paradigm”. Comparative Sociology, 19(2), 155–175. Petkovska, S. (2019). “After Said: Postcolonial Literary Studies in the Twenty-First Century” by Bashir Abu-Manneh (ed) reviewed by Sanja Petkovska. Marx & Philosophy Review of Books. Retrieved 1 November 2020, from https://marxandphilosophy.org.uk/reviews/ 17958_after-said-postcolonial-literary-studies-in-the-twenty-first-century-by-bashir-abu- manneh-ed-reviewed-by-sanja-petkovska/ Pupovac, O. (2008). Postmarxism and Postsocialism: A Theoretical and Historical Critique [PhD, The Open University]. http://oro.open.ac.uk/60162/ Sawaya, R. R. (2019). Subordinated Development: Transnational Capital in the Process of Accumulation of Latin America and Brazil. Haymarket Books. Snow, C. P. (2013). The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution. Martino Fine Books. Tlostanova, M. (2015). Can the post-Soviet think? On coloniality of knowledge, external imperial and double colonial difference. Intersections. East European Journal of Society and Politics, 1(2), pp. 38–58. https://doi.org/10.17356/ieejsp.v1i2.38 Todorova, M. N. (1997). Imagining the Balkans. Oxford University Press. Tomlinson, Jay (producer). (2019, November 23) Episode #1321 “Decolonisation is for Everyone”. Best of the Left podcast. Retrieved 1 November 2020, from www.bestofthel eft.com/_1321_decolonization_is_for_everyone Wallerstein, I. (1995). After Liberalism. The New Press. Wolff, L. (1994). Inventing Eastern Europe: The Map of Civilisation on the Mind of the Enlightenment (1st edition). Stanford University Press.
Part I
Is There a Way Out of the Boomerang of Postsocialism?
1 Production of Knowledge, Class Struggle, and the Postsocialist Condition Sven Cvek
Introduction In this paper, I would like to offer a retrospective account of a critical juncture in the decline of industrial work and the industrial working class in socialist Yugoslavia. However, my emphasis will not be so much on the actual transformations of work usually considered under the heading of deindustrialization (although these will also be taken into account), but rather on how these transformations were understood and articulated in the mainstream of contemporary politics and social sciences. As I will elaborate below, the social upheavals of the late 1980s and the beginning of the 1990s in Yugoslavia –which involved dramatic, but today largely neglected changes in the experience of industrial work –were understood in uncannily similar terms by the reformists within the League of Communists on the one hand, and most of the Yugoslav sociologists on the other –in terms of “the coming of postindustrial society”, to quote the title of Daniel Bell’s influential book. In offering these reflections on one particular discursive framing of what I understand to be a crucial moment in the constitution of our postsocialist present, I intend to point to a more general problem: the class aspect of the production and circulation of knowledge about society. I should also stress that I am approaching this issue as part of a larger theme, namely the problem of postsocialism, particularly in its Yugoslav variant. This problem begs the question of how Yugoslav socialism, embedded in a world capitalist market, negotiated and mediated the imperatives of value, productivity, efficiency, and competition, as well as the imperative which had defined the last decade of the country’s existence, that of international debt. In a way, dealing with the problem of sociological knowledge in and of the closing years of actually existing socialisms means confronting the question of how state socialism, in such a global environment, produced the seeds of its own undoing, or at least some of them. I mean by this that the historical event commonly referred to as the “fall of communism” included shifts and cracks in socialist hegemony of a longer duration. In other words, the arrival of postsocialism, or the restoration of capitalism, was a process that involved ideological realignments, changes in modes of legitimation and delegitimation (say, of political power), in dominant forms of understanding the social world, or, simply, cultural mutations. The apparent ideological DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-3
16 Sven Cvek disorientation that characterized the end of actually existing socialism testifies to this. Commenting on the programs of the new political parties in the elections in 1990, one author remarked that they displayed a “theoretically inadmissible concoction of elements of different and opposed political ideologies (nationalist and liberal, liberal and socialist, etc.)” (Kasapović 1991: 35). Such “confusion” was not limited to the more narrowly understood political sphere. An ideological patchwork was also often present in the public statements by the trade unions or the workers themselves, which might have simultaneously appealed to the historical foundations of Yugoslav socialism, expressed a tentative faith in the fairness of the market, displayed a pretty much absolute belief in the magical powers of “democracy” (a notoriously vague term at the time), or employed nationalist language. But the mentioned “confusion” could also be understood in different terms, as a symptom of a historical moment of competing possibilities. Writing on the subject of the end of socialism, Susan Buck-Morss remarked that, “[w]hen the structuring topology between words and the world undergoes a seismic shift, it may happen that the truth cannot be said. Certain phrases, certain discourses become inaccessible, while others may suddenly re-emerge with new power” (Buck-Morss 2002: 240). In this semantically rich formulation, Buck-Morss points to the dramatic destabilization of cultural meanings that accompanied the social turmoil around the year 1989. Yet, the logic by which words may become either inaccessible or powerful is social, that is a material one. I understand the “seismic shifts” in the “structuring topology” of the Yugoslav social world to have been essentially a local playing out of the global conflict between labour and capital, in which the latter was on its way to “end history”. The discussion of the specific case of the dominant contemporary framing of Yugoslavia’s terminal crisis that I offer here contributes to ongoing explorations of this particular problematic.1 In what follows, I will first explain my position in relation to the above problems. Then, I will briefly sketch the historical moment under discussion and show how it was understood by the political class and one influential current in contemporary sociology. Finally, in the longest part of the paper, I will try to offer a retrospective account (an outline of an argument) for the correspondence between the political– bureaucratic and sociological understanding of the social reality in question. The latter will involve an inquiry into the tendency in Yugoslav sociology that I see as dominating the discipline at the time, which could be termed “technocratic”. I will explore this tendency based on my reading of a selection of texts in mostly industrial sociology. In conclusion, I will return to the scene of the social struggles taking place at the moment of the official inauguration of postsocialism in Yugoslavia. The late 1980s: crisis and labour unrest My interest in postsocialist transition comes from my involvement in a research project dealing with the class dynamic of the demise of socialism in Yugoslavia.2 The focus of our research was on the mass labour unrest of the late 1980s, up to the summer of 1991, while our case study was one industrial system, Borovo from Vukovar, whose workers featured prominently in the strikes of the time. Borovo
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 17 was one of the biggest companies in socialist Yugoslavia, producing shoes, tyres and various rubber and plastic items and employing over twenty thousand people, but also organizing the workers’ social life in general (housing, free time, etc.). Located in the traditionally multiethnic Vukovar area, this was an industrial system paradigmatic of the Yugoslav version of “socialist Fordism” (Suvin 2014: 110), as well as an epitome of “brotherhood and unity”, the Yugoslav model of ethnic diversity. Therefore, the story of Borovo’s decline in the process of reshuffling of the world market and local transition to capitalism can be seen as exemplary of the decline of the Yugoslav socialist project. One of the intentions of our research was to give an account of this period by looking at the experience of work and workers. This history from below took for its starting point “the hidden abode of production”. This change of perspective had immense practical implications. Approached in this way, the historical moment in Croatia understood in terms of the arrival of “democracy” and “national independence” appears as a key moment in the process of restoration of capitalist social relations, and a scene of class struggle. At the end of the 1980s, Yugoslavia was one of the many sites where the global realignments in the capitalist world system were played out in local conditions (Cvek 2017). The labour unrest of that period was a reaction to the pressures of capital, whether these took the form of austerity measures (motivated by international debt), demands for increased productivity (dictated by the export orientation of the economy), or workers’ declining wages in the face of such conditions and demands. The said pressures of capital were mediated by Yugoslavia’s political class, and the class of managers, simply by virtue of the country’s social structure. And those were the actors, the politicians, and the managers –who themselves were often in various kinds of conflict or competition –that the workers clashed with, that they addressed with demands, but also with whom they created tactical alliances. The intricacies of the social conflicts in which Yugoslav workers participated around the now iconic year of 1989 cannot be rehearsed here.3 Let it suffice to say that these were class conflicts in which the workers, exposed to the force of capital, reacted defensively to preserve existing historical achievements, primarily in the workplace. However, I want to make a more general point and stress that class struggle is a concept able to encompass practices well beyond industrial action or other kinds of open and organized labour struggles. Domenico Losurdo proposes we should understand the theory of class struggle as a “general theory of social conflict” (Losurdo 2016: 43). This expansive definition allows us to view the broadly understood sphere of culture –which should also include the contentious processes of production of scientific or scholarly knowledge –as inseparable from the more general dynamics by which capital shapes our social reality. We can begin approaching this complex problem by reflecting on the ways in which the turbulent period of the late 1980s and early 1990s was understood in some of the contemporary public debates. In political documents, newspaper articles, and scholarly commentary on the Yugoslav crisis, we see the marks of a peculiar discourse, a kind of knowledge that provided some of the protagonists of these events with the vocabulary for conceptualizing the social transformation underway. I am referring to the discourse of postindustrial society, which is at the
18 Sven Cvek time simultaneously present both in the social sciences and in the sphere of politics, despite the fact that it appears strangely out of step with the social realities and the lived experience of the time. The coming of postindustrial society By way of illustration, let us turn to the documents of the 11th congress of the League of Communists of Croatia. This was the historical congress that took place in the winter of 1989 and during which the decision was made –by a reformed party that was still, although not for very long, holding onto the communist name – that the first multiparty parliamentary elections would be held the following year. In the section of the document dedicated to the “main directions of social reform”, we find the following passage: The problems of socialism are the result of an attachment to a time and a mode of production which are behind us. The key values of industrialism—such as standardisation, synchronisation, concentration, maximisation, centralisation— are exhausted. The same goes for the patterns of social and political organisation built on them. The information age negates these principles in the organisation of social labour. […] New identity cannot be found in the endless assembly line and thousands of employees who serve it. Human labour is changing […]. Human creative capacity and the individual potential for production grow. Diversity, particularity, individuality, and new connections now emerge. The particular and the small are becoming beautiful again. A new kind of management and the corresponding values can be attained only if we understand what is coming. Clearly, any society that wants an equal position on the world scene has to focus its interest on those forces and processes that are the carriers of postindustrial development, especially those among them that affirm knowledge, creativity, and innovation. (11. kongres 1989: 19–20)4 The information age, knowledge, creativity, innovation –here we are faced with a whole lexicon associated with ideas that have their origin in sociology, and that were, at the time of the 11th congress, very much present, both explicitly and implicitly, in Yugoslav social sciences. But before we turn to the vicissitudes of the theory of postindustrial society in Yugoslavia, and in order to grasp the full meaning of these words and of this kind of framing of the contemporary moment, we need to consider the reality in which the coming of postindustrial society was announced. As we will see, this statement was a sort of a farewell to the industrial working class, pronounced by the party that once used to be its vanguard, but that was now implementing policies directed precisely against those in whose name it ruled. In 1989, more than half a million Yugoslav workers were on strike. This is the peak of a massive reaction to a decade of austerity measures and reforms put into place by the federal government in order to meet the demands of Yugoslavia’s
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 19 foreign creditors and overcome the protracted debt crisis and rising inflation.5 The result of the crisis and the reforms was not only an unprecedented fall of the living standard but also a total transformation of society itself. At the closing of the decade, fundamental elements of Yugoslav socialism, such as social property and worker self-management, were dismantled, and the country was going in the now familiar direction with “no alternative”. These structural shifts also involved a change in the experience of work, especially in the export-oriented manufacturing industry. For instance, in Borovo, the practice of subcontracting has been changing the habitual industrial work rhythms throughout the 1980s. In the Borovo shoe factory, whose labour force has been regularly sold to foreign firms since the end of the 1970s, this meant working on smaller series, in shorter production times, and extra shifts. At the same time, work increasingly became scarce: as austerity and credit restriction led to shortages of raw materials, the management was forced to send workers to furloughs for ever longer periods of time. In addition to this, the recurrent talks of “industrial restructuring” announce significant layoffs with the World Bank, one of Yugoslavia’s main creditors, estimating the surplus labour at 20% of the total workforce (World Bank 1991). In 1990, the “restructuring” was sped up by “shock therapy”: the restrictive monetary policy and the liberalization of trade (i.e. opening of the domestic market to foreign goods) resulted in a wave of bankruptcies and liquidations of industrial enterprises and in mass unemployment. Let us now move away from the big picture and zoom in on a particular scene from the industrial workplace. There, we will be able to discern the discrepancy between words and the world addressed earlier in its historical concreteness. In the Spring of 1991, bankruptcy proceedings began in Borovo, as in many other Croatian factories at the time. This meant immediate layoffs for about 5,000 people employed in factories under receivership. A smaller part of the workers returned to their jobs. Now, under the absolute authority of the court-appointed receivers, the pressure for increased productivity, discipline, and responsibility was acutely felt. One of these ad hoc managers declared that bankruptcy was “an opportunity, for workers and managers, to get back to work free from bureaucratic restraints”, adding that the workers “whose creativity had previously been inhibited”, “have had enough of self-management, their rights, sick leave, and fake solidarity. They want work, someone to give them orders, and their pay”. Soon, productivity rises, but only due to a significantly intensified –or “Western”, as the factory newspaper called it –rhythm of work, while those who cannot keep up still get only a minimum wage (Cvek, Račić, Ivčić 2019: 140). This sketch can serve to illustrate several moments relevant to the present discussion. If this is indeed the moment when “human labour is changing”, as the quoted party documents would have it, it does not seem to be changing in the anticipated direction. Moreover, this example points to a more general trend: the important function of the reforms restructuring the Yugoslav economy was the disciplining of labour. Although never exempt from the imperative of productivity, the Yugoslav labour force was now forced to adapt to new work rhythms, stricter discipline, increased insecurity, the threat of unemployment, and diminished rights; or simply,
20 Sven Cvek to the capitalist rules of the game. The fact that the court-appointed manager describes the experience of work in a factory going bankrupt as one in which the workers’ “creativity” can finally be emancipated certainly appears out of step with the reality it refers to. Still, it is similar to the enthusiastic proclamations of the party bureaucracy cited earlier. Moreover, this mismatch has a pronounced class aspect, as the postindustrial vocabulary seems to serve as a cover, or an alibi for the very real losses of labour. The sociological response The origin of postindustrial theory, of course, is neither in the sphere of politics nor on the shop floor, but in the academic discipline of sociology. Its genealogy is complex. In his book on “the sociology of industrial and postindustrial society”, Krishan Kumar relates postindustrial theory to the rise of futurology, and distinguishes three historical strands “which have converged on the idea of a movement to a postindustrial society”: an American one (originating in the 1950s), a West European one (more Marxist in outlook and sceptical of the American postindustrial discourse), and an East European one (which is couched in Marxist terms, but can easily overlap with any of the two western strands in its conclusions) (Kumar 1986: 192).6 Judging by the scholarly references, Yugoslav sociologists were familiar with all three strands; still they mainly drew on American sociological literature, grafting it onto the traditional Marxist concern with the development of the forces of production and often reformulating it in the idiom of socialist self-management. Yugoslav sociologists were closely watching the economic reforms undertaken by the Federal government and the turmoil these caused in the world of work (especially industrial work). Through their public appearances – interviews, newspaper articles, round tables and publications dedicated to crisis and reform – they participated in contemporary debates about the future of the Yugoslav society. Their understanding of Yugoslavia’s problems was thoroughly informed by the assumptions about the historical inevitability of postindustrial development, in which human creativity would be set free from bureaucratic constraints and become an essential part of the new, knowledge-based productive forces. The interest in the development of productive forces was certainly not new to Croatian and Yugoslav social sciences. Still, at this point, the faith in postindustrial progress became aligned with what appeared as the equally inevitable return of capitalism. A typical example of this tendency can be found in a sociological article from 1990 about the working class’s position and attitude in relation to the ongoing reforms (i.e. economic liberalization). In it, the author comments on the consequences of the deregulation of the labour market for the workers: a decrease in the security of employment, significant intensification of work, and an increase in inequality between manual and nonmanual workers. He emphasizes that these trends have severe consequences for the working class in the time of crisis and describes their situation as “unbearable”. These are, the author claims, the reasons why the working class “does not always support” the reforms. Yet another reason
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 21 is in the egalitarian set of values “deeply ingrained” in the Yugoslav society as a whole, especially among manual workers (Sekulić 1990: 1052–1053). For this author, as for many other social scientists at the time, the crisis in the country had to do with the contradiction between the relations and the forces of production; that is, between the statist or bureaucratic conception of socialism and the realities of the “third technological revolution”: Social relations established in [state socialist] systems represent an obstacle for an economy based on science, expansion of information, speed, and flexibility. The epoch of social revolution must break the inadequate social relations for the sake of the development of the forces of production. (Sekulić 1990: 1054) Unlike capitalism, which is flexible enough to constantly “absorb the demands of new forces of production”, socialism “does not possess this flexibility”, the article argues. Socialism is here understood as “a system that aims at preserving the power of the ruling class, rather than facilitating technological and economic change” (Sekulić 1990: 1054). The author concludes that, “[a]ll processes currently taking place in socialist countries represent the revolution that needs to transform those social relations which hinder further progress” (Sekulić 1990: 1055). In a book published a year later and appropriately entitled Vanishing Structures, the same author is quite explicit about the class character of the kind of social development that he (and the sociological mainstream in general) considers not only desirable but the only possible: “the development of postindustrial society is not based on the working class, but on technocracy and the intelligentsia; not on manual labour, but on knowledge and skill” (Sekulić 1991: 109). Below I will try to contextualize and historicize the more general trend of which I find Sekulić’s position to be illustrative. For the moment, let us note how the social transformation underway was understood in very similar, if not identical, terms by those whose task was to explain, as well as intellectually contribute to social change (the sociologists), and those who were in the position to decide about the direction and form social development would take, the political class (the party bureaucracy). The visions of the desired, indeed inevitable social change of these two social groups –or at least the dominant elements in these groups –converged at this point in time. The broadly understood theory of postindustrial society and its particular reception in Yugoslav social science provided the common ground for this convergence. This development suggests that the idea of postindustrial society was inseparable from a certain political vision of the sociological mainstream, which was increasingly explicit about its choice of side in the conflict that marked the moment of Yugoslav transition to capitalism: it took the side of the managers, and in doing so aligned itself with the reformist (liberal) forces in the League of Communists. How do we account for this convergence between political–bureaucratic and sociological thought, especially considering the long-standing antibureaucratic sentiment in the ranks of Yugoslav sociologists? And why did postindustrial theory
22 Sven Cvek appear as such an inescapable framework for so many sociologists who reflected on the Yugoslav crisis and the possibilities of future social development? The present account of the sociological response to the Yugoslav crisis and its reverberations in the political sphere should be understood only as an unfinished and qualified look into the social constitution of sociology in socialist Yugoslavia. My remarks on this problem are based on a selection of relevant articles from the Croatian Sociological Review (Revija za sociologiju, published by the sociology department at the University of Zagreb since 1971), a selection of issues of Our Topics from the late 1980s (Naše teme, a propulsive journal established in 1957, in which social scientist of various profiles debated current social problems), and a number of collections of sociological works dealing with problems of socialist development, for the most part also from the 1980s. This corpus is certainly incomplete: for instance, the consulted publications are almost exclusively Zagreb-based, although they regularly include authors from other Yugoslav republics.7 Furthermore, the selected archive cannot be said to encompass the variety of positions and important differences in opinion (sometimes of a fundamental kind) that existed among Yugoslav sociologists. This is primarily because my intention was to reconstruct a particular strand of sociological thought that dominated the field in the period under discussion, and not because other approaches and views did not exist. With these qualifications in mind, this archive can serve as a reasonable basis for an informed outline of an argument about the reasons for the direction taken by sociological thought in socialist Yugoslavia at the moment of its demise. It is my contention that in describing the sociological responses to the crisis, it is possible to shed light on an existing tendency that had achieved hegemony in Yugoslav social sciences by this point in time. In describing this tendency, I will limit myself to remarks on those aspects of the sociological discipline relevant to this particular development around 1989. These include essentially productivist assumptions about socialist development in Yugoslav social sciences, the sociologists’ understanding of their own position in relation to that developmental model, and their understanding of their position within the class realities of late Yugoslav socialism. The discussion in the rest of this essay will revolve around these issues. I will relate them to those tenets of postindustrial theory that resonated with the existing interests and concerns of Yugoslav sociologists and the pragmatic goals of the sociologists’ long-standing adversary, the party bureaucracy. The social constitution of a socialist sociology The first point I would like to emphasize is that the positioning of social science in the moment of the postsocialist transition was an outcome of the longer development of Yugoslav sociology, a discipline closely tied to the Yugoslav industrial model of socialist development. This developmental model depended and insisted on the constant increase of productivity of labour, and represented, as a recent article put it, “a development effort within global capitalism” (Gagyi 2020). This disciplinary involvement with economic development is behind the productivism that strongly marked Yugoslav sociology. The productivism of a large part of Yugoslav
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 23 sociology was something it shared with the party bureaucracy, or the political class. The problem of labour productivity, i.e. the question of how to increase it, was central to both. Having said that, we should also note that in the socialist Yugoslavia of the 1980s, for both the political and sociological mainstream, it went without saying that what is meant by “labour” and “production” should be limited strictly to the sphere of commodity production.8 It might seem unusual to establish such commonalities between bureaucracy and sociology, considering that Yugoslav sociologists generally stood in a position antagonistic to the political class. Indeed, it might be possible to speak of an antibureaucratic sentiment in sociology, not just the Yugoslav one. Forceful expressions of this position can be found in the proceedings of a sociological conference on the “Contradictions and developmental problems of the Yugoslav society” from 1986, where some of the key figures in the discipline criticize “political bureaucracy” because it is degrading scholarly work, adding that bureaucracy is “worse than capitalism”, since in it political and economic power merge, and turn “the worker into waged labour, and the citizen into an obedient subject” (Supek 1986: 26). There were historical reasons for this kind of critique of bureaucracy from the position of the sociological discipline.9 But we should not forget that the antibureaucratic theme surpassed the boundaries of one academic discipline and was integral to socialist discourse as such. As Darko Suvin writes, in socialist Yugoslavia, the antibureaucratic discourse was closely tied with the critique of Stalinism, but could cover a “heterogeneous field of negative meanings”, including criticisms of administrative inefficiency and detachment from lived reality as well as, for us more importantly, the criticism of the emergence of a new class in state socialisms. Suvin stresses the fact that in its standard uses, the term “bureaucracy” was opposed to the positively evaluated ideals of “plebeian democracy” (Suvin 2014: 60). In other words, although bureaucracy in socialist Yugoslavia “was a sufficiently flexible empty or floating signifier … to be moulded according to the needs of the day” (Archer 2019: 565), it did involve an important class element, be it in the dissident writings of Milovan Djilas on “the new class” which has the exclusive monopoly on power in state socialisms (Djilas 1957), or in the writings of the party ideologues such as Edvard Kardelj, who saw in it “the final and most stubborn legacy of the class system and therefore the most dangerous enemy of socialism” (quoted in Archer 2019: 565). However, as we will see, the opposite of bureaucracy needed not to be plebeian democracy but the economy itself, whether in the form of forces of production, economic laws, or a liberated market. The particular case of Slobodan Milošević’s “anti-bureaucratic revolution” from the late 1980s shows that the antibureaucratic discourse could be put to work in the internal struggles of the political bureaucracy itself. If we stay within the limits of sociological discipline, we find obvious echoes of antibureaucratic discourse in sociologists’ reflections on Yugoslav social structure. Ivan Kuvačić expresses the common view of the issue when he writes, relying on the work of Mladen Lazić, that the fundamental class relation in state socialism is one between the rulers and the workers:
24 Sven Cvek [In state socialisms], the plan takes the place of the market, with the consequence that, in the social order, that planning, organisation, and control become the exclusive monopoly of one social group, while immediate production [neposredna prozvodnja] is the sphere of activity of the other fundamental social group. (Kuvačić 1988: 46) Based on its monopoly on the planning of social life, the former (social group) becomes “the class of collective owners”. Lazić calls this class “the agent of the plan” and stresses its monopoly over government (or management: “upravljanje”) and its conflictual relationship with the workers (cf. Lazić 1987: 37, 40).10 Apart from this socialist tradition, the bureaucratic theme in sociology should be traced to the work of Max Weber, for whom bureaucracy appears as a rational organizational form of a modern society geared towards efficiency. In Yugoslav sociological discourse, both of these traditions of thought on bureaucracy were present. This was due to the fact that despite their differences, they shared certain commonalities. In his discussion of bureaucracy in the work of Max Weber and V. I. Lenin, Erik Olin Wright summarizes their common interests in the following way: How can the state apparatus be controlled? Is it possible for the masses to govern and control the state? What is the relationship of representative institutions to the state bureaucracy in capitalist society? What can be done about the ever- increasing appropriation of power by bureaucrats? What are the consequences of socialism for the nature of the state? (Wright 1974: 69–70) These questions, and the problem of bureaucracy, are also very much present in postindustrial theory as systematized and elaborated by one of its most influential advocates, Daniel Bell.11 Therefore, the bureaucratic theme at the closing of the 1980s represented an element that made the theory of postindustrial society close to the interests of Yugoslav social scientists. For this reason, it is worth looking into how Daniel Bell, who drew on both the antibureaucratic traditions mentioned earlier, writes about bureaucracy. Drawing on Weber, Bell states that “the most besetting dilemma confronting all modern society is bureaucratisation, or the ‘rule of rules.’ ” For him, “bureaucracy has become the central problem for all societies, socialist as well as capitalist”. Bell sees state socialisms as “alternative modes of industrialisation”, which create “industrial societies … but through specifically political, rather than market, mechanisms”: The essential division in modern society today is not between those who own the means of production and an undifferentiated “proletariat” but the bureaucratic and authority relations between those who have powers of decision and those who have not, in all kinds of organisations, political, economic, and social.
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 25 Bureaucracy here transcends the Cold War divide12 since, as Bell argues, both capitalist and socialist societies are geared towards the development of the forces of production, and consequently both require “the managerial stratum in politics as well as in the economy” (Bell quoting Weber). True to such a view of bureaucracy, Bell’s discussion of this topic includes references to Milovan Djilas, as well as to the other critics of the rise of a “new class” in socialist societies (especially Trotsky). In Bell’s take on Djilas, we can recognize similarities with the antibureaucratic discourse of Yugoslav sociology: Bureaucrats in non- communist countries “have political masters, usually elected, or owners over them, while communists have neither masters nor owners over them”. In the communist world, “The government both administers and distributes national property. The new class, or its executive organ –the Party oligarchy –both acts as the owner and is the owner. The most reactionary and bourgeois government can hardly dream of such a monopoly in the economy”. (Bell 1999, quoting from Djilas’s The New Class) The position taken on the problem of bureaucracy in postindustrial theory was very close to the concerns of Yugoslav sociologists, not necessarily because they would quote Daniel Bell in their work, but because of the common critical traditions informing both East and Western sociological practice. But Yugoslav sociological critiques of bureaucracy in the 1980s insisted on a more particular point, one which, again, converged with some of the main assumptions of postindustrial theory. Namely, sociologists considered bureaucracy to be opposed to knowledge, and especially to knowledge necessary for social development. Postindustrial theory thus became the discourse in which the existing sociologists’ antagonism to bureaucracy was re-articulated. In addition to this, it is also possible to identify more inherently disciplinary reasons for this antagonism. It is important to keep in mind that Yugoslav sociology understood itself in functionalist terms, as being by definition involved in not only analyzing society but also practically solving social problems and optimizing the functioning of the system. For that reason, no doubt, Yugoslav sociologists worked a lot on the issues of self-management, which, as the democratic mechanism by which society would manage its reproduction, was a huge topic in the discipline discussed along a spectrum of positions, from the humanist-Marxism of the Praxis kind to industrial– psychological approaches engaged in purely technological rationalizations of the labour process (for an example of the latter, see Obradović 1989.) The idea that sociological knowledge be socially applicable is omnipresent in the consulted archive. Examples are too numerous to cite, but we can limit ourselves to that sociological commentary in which applied sociological knowledge is given a central role in overcoming the crisis of the 1980s: If the society is in crisis, and crisis is a state of anomie, we must collectively strive to make the sociologist in our society the equivalent to the chemist in a laboratory or the physician in a hospital. … [T]he increased engagement of
26 Sven Cvek sociologists and sociology is a precondition for overcoming the societal crisis in our country. That is anyway what sociologists and their professional associations are already doing. (Cvjetičanin 1986: 15) Or, as Rudi Supek put it in his introduction to a series of texts about the position of sociology in Yugoslavia from 1989, the role of sociology … [is] to propose practical solutions to social problems based on scientific analysis, a more harmonious performance of social processes, a better integration of the individual in social life. Its role in contemporary society is eminently organisational. (Supek 1989: 4) Supek remarks that an “expansion of social sciences” is related to the “transition from industrial to a postindustrial society”, in which the tasks of “analysis, control and planning of social processes” gain in relevance (Supek 1989: 3). In other words, in the postindustrial division of labour, in which knowledge becomes the main engine of development, sociologists figure as “technical intelligentsia”, or the carriers of knowledge necessary for a harmonious and efficient functioning of society. Workers as a sociological problem In the field of industrial sociology, this generic disciplinary position is most insistently present, and given a particular, technocratic inflexion. In the rest of this essay, I will mainly refer to the work of Josip Županov, one of the key figures in industrial sociology and Yugoslav sociology in general. Županov’s work has relatively recently become the subject of a much-needed critical re-examination (cf. Dolenec 2014, 2016), so I will limit my remarks to those aspects of Županov’s work more directly connected to the problem at hand, namely, the issue of the role of sociological knowledge in the class dynamic that marked the end of socialism in Yugoslavia. A good place to begin might be Županov’s article on “knowledge, social system, and ‘class’ interest”, published in a 1983 issue of Our Topics (Naše teme) dedicated to “the current problems of self-management”. The article opens with a serious problem of academic work (one that must appear mundane to anyone doing scholarly work in conditions of austerity): subscriptions to foreign scholarly journals have been drastically reduced due to austerity measures, with the explanation that “there is no foreign currency” for their acquisition. Županov refutes this explanation since journals’ expenses are insignificant compared to the larger Croatian Republican budget. For him, the more fundamental problem is in the political attitude to knowledge, “the most important factor of production”. Županov asks: “Why does the political bureaucracy underestimate knowledge, why is it so low on the list of its priorities?” (Županov 1983b: 1049). This question is complemented by a
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 27 critique of Yugoslav bureaucracy’s reluctance to establish “reciprocal communication” with science and “incorporate science in the system of domination”. Such a move, which could make scholars into “partners” rather than “servants of power”, would not only increase “the efficiency of the economic system”, but also legitimatize the rule of the political class (Županov 1983b: 1050). In his answer to this question, Županov turns to his 1969 article “Egalitarianism and industrialism”. There, the suboptimal use of knowledge in the industry is explained by reference to a “normative-value matrix” of Yugoslav society that has “radical egalitarianism” at its core. On the other side of the developmental spectrum, in the United States, the “cultural norm of efficiency” prevails and helps Županov solve “the secret of American efficiency” (cf. Županov 1987a: 170). The radical egalitarianism thesis, which is supposed to perform a similar role in relation to Yugoslav inefficiency, additionally proposes that other “collective attitudes” revolve around the egalitarian core, such as antiprofessionalism, antientrepreneurialism, intellectual levelling, and outright antiintellectualism. For Županov, this “value orientation” and “collective attitudes” have their roots in traditional society and are “resistant to social change” (Županov 1983b: 1050–1051). Moreover, this matrix can be either “elastic” or “rigid”. In times of economic growth, it is elastic, meaning that it “tolerates a certain intrusion of industrial-consumerist tendencies from the West” (Županov 1983b: 1051). On the other hand, in times of recession and stagnation, it becomes more rigid, i.e. the demand for more egalitarian distribution is on the rise. But for Županov, this is insufficient to explain the hostility to knowledge in the industry, and the egalitarian thesis has to be amended. Županov argues that the other part of the problem is in the “ ‘class’ interest of the dominant [social] layer” whose power is based on a paternalistic relationship to the “radically egalitarian”, “relatively uneducated”, and “poorly paid” manual workers. This alliance between the bureaucracy and the working class is what blocks the development of the forces of production: “manual workers accepted the ideology of the political bureaucracy, and the political bureaucracy accepted the egalitarian values and attitudes of the manual workers”. A change in the model of development from “extensive” to “intensive” one, where knowledge would be central, would abolish this coalition. In this postindustrial orientation, it would be “technical intelligentsia” that would gain in centrality, with the bureaucracy having no other choice but to integrate them in its own ranks “according to the Western technocratic model” (Županov 1983b: 1054). Županov concludes that the bureaucracy, eager to maintain power, is in favour of the status quo; therefore, knowledge remains marginalized. This conflict over knowledge is also evident when Županov and Špoljar distinguish between “the language and perspective of the sociological profession” and “the ideological language and ideological perspective of ‘politics’, which considers itself absolutely competent for social analysis”. The implication, of course, is that it is not, and the conclusion is that this rule of the incompetent precludes sociologists from participating in solving social problems, and can, in the worst case, lead to a view of sociology as an act of schism and dissidence (Županov & Šporer 1986: 38). Briefly, sociologists saw their position within the division of labour as technical intelligentsia or the bearers of the knowledge needed for organizing social life. This was
28 Sven Cvek entirely in line with the optimistic predictions of postindustrial theory about a “new class of humanistic and technical intelligentsia” that will take over the management of society from the old classes thanks to its competence and knowledge (cf. Rus 1984: 55). In that way, sociologists defined themselves against bureaucracy in competitive terms, as those who know best how to plan and organize Yugoslav development. As I have already suggested when pointing to the productivist orientation common to Yugoslav sociology and bureaucracy, this oppositional stance of sociology should be approached with some caution. As a matter of fact, by the late 1980s, even sociologists themselves recognized a certain kind of rapprochement. Writing in 1989, Rudi Supek observed that even in the countries of “actually existing socialism” … there is an [new] awareness that a rational and efficient organisation of production cannot be imagined without the help of sociology. Although this development is probably due to purely political-pragmatic reasons, it should still be considered as a step forward, away from the old dogmatic view. (Supek 1989: 4) This remark may be taken as Supek’s commentary on the increased influence of that current within the political class that led to bureaucracy’s enthusiastic embrace of postindustrial society (and their resigned parting with the industrial working class) of which the long passage quoted at the beginning of this essay is symptomatic.13 Another symptom of what Supek termed “political-pragmatic” adoption of sociological knowledge by the bureaucracy can be found in the issue of Our Topics dedicated to the problem of the relationship between science (or scholarship) and politics. There, published in the same volume, we find an article in which a sociologist (Josip Županov) complains about the exclusion of sociological contributions from the processes of political decision-making,14 and an article in which a politician (Dragutin Dimitrović) writes about the possibilities of technological development from within a decisively postindustrial sociological framework. In Dimitrović’s article, among the stock promises of postindustrial development –which will guarantee “new freedoms”, “emancipation”, “creative and innovative work”, “democratisation”, “decentralisation”, indeed “the realisation of communist visions” –we find explicit remarks that point to another kind of “political-pragmatic” turn. Dimitrović makes an appeal for “the reliance on the unbound forces of economic laws”, “the need to increase the motivation of workers-commodity producers”, for “deregulation” (Dimitrović 1987: 965), “opening the door to initiative, creativity, and knowledge; especially those of their forms and carriers that successfully affirm themselves through economic valorisation on the market or other forms of social verification” (ibid. 968). Although these may be pronounced in bureaucratic code and relentlessly qualified, their meaning is clear: this is the Yugoslav version of Third-Way politics that went hand in hand with the advance of (neoliberal) capitalism in the 1980s. It is worth noting here that, according to Susan Woodward, the
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 29 official Yugoslav policy towards labour at this time was a “realistic” one, typical of the European left and centre parties in the 1980s, and basically involved abandoning the traditional socialist ideal of full employment (cf. Woodward 1995).15 For our present purpose, it is less important whether the embrace of postindustrial discourse (and its political-economic implications) by reformists in the League of Communists was disingenuous or not; instead, I want to stress that, in this particular conjuncture, sociology has effectively joined bureaucracy in abandoning, rather than transforming not only the industrial working class but the socialist project as a whole, under the sign of the historical imperative of postindustrial progress. The above discussion allows us to label this convergence as “technocratic”. This is precisely the qualification that Theodor Adorno, in his 1968 lectures, gives to what he variously calls “pure” or “positivist” or “fetishistic” sociology, which I find the kind of sociology Županov engaged in to be a type of. In his critique of sociological positivism, Adorno makes an explicit reference to the fact that sociological thought in state socialist countries does not necessarily escape the logic of productivity and the law of value: [T]here are not a few socialists who share this idea, believing that socialism amounts to the elimination of avoidable costs, the simple removal of coefficients of friction for the sake of the smooth running of the vast production machinery of capitalism, without reflecting on the relationship of living human beings to this machinery. It might be said that in this demand for control over society which is latent within it, sociology is really nothing other than an agency of control conforming to the technocratic ideal … This technocratization of the sociological ideal applies all the more, the more the so-called “pure” sociology … grows accustomed to operating a technology of its own. (Adorno 2000: 135) Of course, this assessment could be dismissed simply on the grounds of belonging to a different intellectual tradition than the one Županov was working in. On his part, Županov was openly sceptical of philosophical influences in Yugoslav sociology –these, he argued, resulted not in sociology, but “some sort of social philosophy” –and insisted on the need for a clear demarcation between disciplines; indeed, a kind of disciplinary purity (Županov & Šporer 1986: 38). But this rejoinder does not counter the gist of Adorno’s critique. To call this kind of sociology “technocratic” means pointing to its “latent claim to dominance” as well as its “elitist pretensions” (Adorno 2000: 130–135). It is within this larger disciplinary tendency that we should consider both postindustrial theory as such and its Yugoslav variants. Since, in the postindustrial perspective managing and ruling become nearly synonymous, a sociology that uncritically accepts its role as the ancillary of postindustrial development passes into something like a technique of government. That is, the emphasis on the social applicability of sociological knowledge involves a danger: that the knowledge in question might be understood in purely technical terms, as expertise on organizational models. When put in the exclusive function of facilitating the development of productive forces, this
30 Sven Cvek tendency within Yugoslav sociology could make the discipline appear quite similar to a form of labour management. The problem with workers In concluding this overview of the state of sociological affairs around 1989, I would like to offer some additional remarks on the position of sociology in relation to the working class, especially the industrial one, in the closing years of Yugoslav socialism. I have already commented on Županov’s position on the matter when discussing his thesis about its “radical egalitarianism”, which was integral to a class analysis of Yugoslav society that became part of sociological common sense. More could be said about the image of the industrial working class “resistant to social change” that emerges here: it is a curiously essentialist and apparently trans- historical one. But, as already mentioned, the working class is not only an obstacle to development because of its radical egalitarianism, or its lack of and hostility to “knowledge” but also because it is the ally of the political bureaucracy which pays its dues to labour’s conservatism by blocking the unfettered development of the productive forces. It is obvious, then, that for these reasons, the industrial working class can be left behind. However, it is also obvious that, in the moment of a systemic overhaul of social relations which created waves of unemployment, this analysis might also function as a political justification, an ideological discourse meant to paint reality in line with particular interests. In fact, the postindustrial theory has been described in precisely those terms: The ideology of postindustrial society represents a specific worldview in relation to work, knowledge and education. It elevates and celebrates “knowledge work” and renders invisible existing forms of industry and workers’ knowledge necessary for practical work. When the present is viewed through the lens of these theories, practical work is cast as the work of yesterday and the people who do it as yesterday’s people. (Vogt 2016: 1) Such view suggests we should explore the possibility that the ahistorical picture of a working-class suffering from the egalitarian syndrome may not be accurate. On that point, it is worth noting that not all empirical research conforms to Županov’s thesis. For example, in a 1976 article on “alienation and strike”, Vladimir Arzenšek quotes a survey of fourteen Slovene companies in which strikes took place. One of his conclusions contradicts the view that the egalitarianism of workers is necessarily socially conservative, as they “display a lesser authoritarian orientation, they are less conservative and more egalitarian. The number of those with an entrepreneurial orientation is the same among the workers who went on strikes and those who did not” (Arzenšek 1976: 11). If these remarks make the egalitarian theory appear less convincing, we should not think it was somehow detached from historical reality. If we go back to Županov’s 1983 article quoted previously, in which he turns to his 1969 thesis,
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 31 frustrated with the social consequences of the government’s austerity measures (that were part of Yugoslavia’s deal with its foreign creditors), we will see that his turn towards the past is motivated by an irresolvable puzzle: whatever it does, Yugoslavia is unable to catch up with the developed West.16 Therefore, there must be “persistently present factors” at work, “constants in the midst of the turmoil of change” (Županov 1983b: 1050). Thus, Županov turned to his older theory of radical egalitarianism for explanation. But it seems that it is not an accident that the roots of this theory are in a previous moment of liberalization of the Yugoslav economy in the second half of the 1960s. At that time, too, as Dolenec writes, Županov’s theses were part of the “liberal reformist current that saw the solution to economic problems in a further expansion of market relations” (Dolenec 2014: 58). To Dolenec’s remark that this was a time of “growing unemployment and social stratification” (ibid.), we may add that this was also a time of great labour unrest. After all, the first major work on labour strikes in socialist Yugoslavia was also written in 1969 (although it was published only in 1979). I have in mind Neca Jovanov’s Labour Strikes in SFRY, which, except by way of empirical research, registers the social turmoil of the mid to late 1960s in more indirect ways, such as when he notes that his research benefited from a new “openness” of the League of Communists to the problem of labour strikes that was “especially manifested in 1969” (Jovanov 1979: 5). This “opening” is unsurprising considering Jovanov’s findings: the number of labour strikes in Yugoslavia went from 28 in 1958 to 271 in 1964, to reach 138 strikes in the first 8 months of 1969, but with the highest registered number of workers on strike up to that time (about 22,000). These conflicts could turn violent, and Jovanov reports that in 1969 the dockworkers in the port of Rijeka chased their management around town until they caught them and the management ended up in hospital (Jovanov 1979: 107–108). I am bringing these historical details into the discussion to make a rather obvious point: Županov’s thesis about the cultural norm of egalitarianism as a major economic problem appeared in the midst of a larger social conflict. In his original 1969 article, Županov explicitly points to this when he quotes the reformist Croatian politician Miko Tripalo, who in an interview from 1969 complained about the demands for more equal distribution of wealth by “young workers and students” (Županov 1987a: 173), or when he agrees with another influential Croatian party politician, Vladimir Bakarić, that “the immense levelling tendency [tendencija za uravnilovkom] in our society” is related to the “the revolutionary pressure of the popular masses” (Županov 1987a: 176). At that time, Županov did not seem to believe workers’ strikes could make much of a difference in Yugoslavia. In his 1971 article on “industrial conflict” in socialism, he recognizes the productivist impulse in Yugoslav socialism, and adds that “in the worker’s everyday experience nothing much changed [in relation to capitalism or ‘administrative socialism]’, which makes workers’ strikes ‘unavoidable’ ” (Županov 1971: 7). However, set on his task to explore the ability of “self-managing organisations of labour … to manage the conflict between workers and managers” (Županov 1971: 9), Županov concludes that the system of self-management is of “huge importance for the stability of contemporary Yugoslav society”, since it
32 Sven Cvek “depoliticised strikes”, basically by limiting them to the workplace and preventing them from addressing systemic problems (Županov 1971: 23). In 1983, when the number of people on strike was similar to that at the end of the 1960s, Županov published a book on the Yugoslav crisis in which he also commented on the issue. There, he repeats his view that as a tactic for increasing workers’ power in the workplace, these remain inefficient (Županov 1983a: 130, 150). However, in his more general and quite lucid commentary on Yugoslavia’s contemporary social and economic crisis, Županov anticipates a potential escalation of social conflicts. If the crisis is not resolved, he writes, they might take “the most dangerous form of social polarisation”, namely the form of a conflict between “political structures” and the working class (Županov 1983a: 45–46). To this possibility, Županov also adds the danger of a rising nationalism (Županov 1983a: 56). Obviously, this description is not very far from the realities of the social upheaval that shook Yugoslavia at the closing of the 1980s. But, by that point in time, when the number of workers on strike started approaching half a million (Cvek, Račić, Ivčić 2019: 45), the eyes of the sociologists were firmly set on the postindustrial future in which there was no place for a “nineteenth-century working class” (Županov 1989: 32). Conclusion Social scientists, including Županov, actively participated in the intense public debates about the future of Yugoslav society after 1989. In a round table organized by the reformed socialist trade union in 1990, in which the transformation of social property and the system of self-management were discussed, Županov repeated his thesis about an “authoritarian political culture and radical egalitarianism”, but supported worker self-management in a free market environment (Jusup 1990: 7). In another debate, he argued that “the system of industrial relations must secure the efficiency of the enterprise”, and that this can be achieved only by “liberating” professional managers from political interference, but also from the influence of the workers: “The idea that the workers would be able to remove the management through strike”, he remarked, was “ridiculous”. When asked whether he still stood on his earlier position of “dual management”, where power is shared between the managers and the workers, Županov replied that “he changed his mind”, and that only professional managers should be allowed to manage (Erceg 1990: 15). The above remarks on the work of one particular sociologist are not meant to be biographical. Instead, by taking a closer look at an immensely influential and productive author, I wanted to speak of more general social developments, of which more was said in the introduction. As I have tried to show, contemporary troubles – basically, degradation of labour and its resistance to this process –were understood by the sociological mainstream as a temporary and unfortunate, but unavoidable price to be paid in order for Yugoslav society to catch up with the ideal of the Western capitalist countries, in which managers would become rulers, and rulers managers.17 I am aware that this essay leaves lots of questions open, with the central one probably concerning the issue of “what was to be done” in order for the complex Yugoslav crisis of the 1980s to be resolved. Instead of an answer (if such
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 33 an answer is possible), we may mention a couple of contemporary proposals that differed from the one advocated by the sociological mainstream. I will mention two of these alternative and marginal views of the class dynamics necessary for progressive social change in Yugoslavia. The first one comes from a somewhat surprising source: a work that critically dissects the dominant readings of the work of Karl Marx in Yugoslavia, arguing, basically, that socialist self-management did not abolish the antagonism between capital and labour. In conclusion to this book, the authors state that they are advocating “an ‘alliance’ between workers and the technocracy [i.e. managers]”. Their rationale is the following: “Technocracy does not offer an association of free producers [i.e. communism], but it does offer [to the self-managed enterprises] liberation from bureaucracy” (Bavčar et al. 1985: 124). In a rather different text, the sociologist Zoran Vidojević argues that Yugoslavia is witnessing a new sort of “class compromise” in the form of the alliance between bureaucracy and technocracy. For him, the leading forces of social change can only be found in those that are (the year is 1987) marginalized and excluded from the political process: the unemployed, the workers, the young, the intellectual proletariat (Vidojević 1987). If these options look like curiosities from a present-day perspective, it is because other forces and other options prevailed. Nevertheless, mentioning them can help us recover that story contained within the one told here: the story of labour’s defeat. Notes 1 For a recent attempt to think about the cultural processes involved in the “intellectual dismantling and transformation of socialism”, see Kolanović 2019. Kolanović focuses on the 1990s and analyzes the modes of domestication of capitalism in ads, translations of economic literature, and fiction. 2 In the period 2014–2019, I was participating in the research project Continuity of Social Conflict 1988–1991: the Case of Borovo. Our research took place from 2014 until 2019 and was supported by the Centre for Peace Studies and the Organisation for Workers’ Initiative and Democratisation from Zagreb. The main idea was to study the continuities and discontinuities between the labour strikes of the late 1980s and the violent conflicts of the early 1990s that are today understood primarily as ethnic or ethno-nationalist ones. 3 These are the subject matter of the book Borovo on Strike: Labour in Transition 1987– 1991, which represents a summary of our findings in the Borovo research project. I would refer the reader interested in more details about the background against which the story told here unfolds to that book, on which I am heavily relying here (see Cvek, Račić, Ivčić 2019). 4 All translations from Croatian/Serbian are mine. 5 For the global context of Yugoslavia’s crisis, I would refer the reader to those works that relate the “fall of communism” to the structural shifts in the capitalist world system. For instance, Susan Buck-Morss frames the collapse of socialism within the general narrative of the restructuring of global industrialism that occurred in response to the economic crisis of the 1970s. This crisis was systemic within the Fordist model of industrialization that featured giant firms, centralised production, heavy industrial technologies, and standardised output. (Buck-Morss 2002: 263–264)
34 Sven Cvek Charles Maier also explicates the 1980s crises of actually existing socialisms in relation to the restructuring of global capitalism, namely “the declining productivity growth” originating in the 1970s (Maier 1991: 49). Although dealing with a different topic, Aaron Benanav’s recent account of the rise of a global “chronic under demand for labour” is relevant for this discussion, as he writes about the progressive slowdown of economic growth since the 1970s, as industrial overcapacity spread around the world, and no alternative growth engine materialized. … As economic growth decelerates, job creation slows, and it is this, not technology- induced job destruction, which is depressing the global demand for labour. (Benanav 2019b: 117) It should be noted that sociological analyses of the Yugoslav crisis tended to frame it in terms of problems inherent to socialism, and even more specifically, to the Yugoslav variant of worker self-management. 6 For additional insights into the problems of postindustrial theory, it is useful to consult Brick’s (1992) somewhat US-centric overview, as well as the concise account in Vogt (2016). An earlier, very informative critical take on the work of Daniel Bell can be found in Ferkiss (1979). Ferkiss offers especially useful remarks on the place of the critique of bureaucracy, whose roots can be located in postrevolutionary Soviet thought and postindustrial theory. 7 In her Preface to an edited volume on the institutional development of sociology in Yugoslavia, Marija Bogdanović writes that, despite the editor’s original intentions, the book turned out to be almost exclusively about sociology in Serbia. She identifies the reason for such narrowing of scope in the absence of “social conditions” (in the 1980s) that would allow for an all-Yugoslav overview. Specifically, she suggests that the highly decentralized federal model, which relegated the funding of research projects to individual republics, made such an endeavour virtually impossible, except on the basis of more or less individual contacts across republican lines (Bogdanović 1990: 9). 8 For a brief account of the debates on commodity production in the context of Yugoslav self-management, see Zovak 2017, especially 135–146. The debate is critically examined in more general terms in Bavčar et al. (1985). 9 Rudi Supek, the founder of the Sociology department at the University of Zagreb, lists the reasons for the antibureaucratic sociological stance as follows: the political decisions that lead to decentralization of Yugoslavia after 1974 reflected negatively on the institutional organization of the sociological discipline (8); attacks on and purges of sociologists in universities in Belgrade and Ljubljana in the early 1970s are political repression pure and simple, and the same goes for the political meddling in sociological associations by party cadre, also in the 1970s. (cf. Supek 1989; also see Bogdanović et al. 1990: 19). 10 In this text, Kuvačić uses the term “bureaucracy” in order to speak of the political class, but also of the proliferation of administrative jobs more generally (Kuvačić 1988: 51). In Yugoslav enterprises, administrative workers went under the name of “režija”, and were a common target of complaints coming from the shop floor. Demands of workers on strike in the late 1980s more often than not included the request that the number of administrative workers be reduced (see Cvek, Račić, Ivčić 2019). 11 Bell’s The Coming of Post-Industrial Society was reviewed unfavourably in a 1976 issue of the (Croatian) Sociological Revue, where the reviewer finds it to be “apologetic” of capitalism, “overly optimistic”, and characterized by a “technocratic” vision of society (Žubrinić 1976: 82). There is certainly a diachronic aspect to the Yugoslav reception of Daniel Bell’s work and postindustrial theory more generally that could be explored
Knowledge, Class Struggle, and Postsocialism 35 in more depth. A selection of translations dealing with the problem of the “scientific- technological revolution” from a class perspective can be found in Marksizam u svetu 3/ 1974. The introductory text in that issue, although very brief, seems to me more attuned to the realities of class composition in Yugoslavia, and more subtle in the conceptualization of the postindustrial social transformation than the sometimes overly schematic approaches of those sociologists discussed here (cf. Milić 1974). It is likely that approaches that tried to consider the problem of social development by looking into the position and composition of labour became rarer in the 1980s. These concerns appear in Neca Jovanov’s 1983 book Diagnosis of Self-Management, but remain rather unsystematic in terms of presentation (see Jovanov 1983, especially 92–93, 273–276, 293–309, 339–355). 12 Bell finds the concept of industrial society, as elaborated in the work of Raymond Aron, to function in a similar way: it is able to “subsume” capitalism and socialism “under a common rubric” (Bell 1999). 13 Those interested in a more openly confrontational take on the relationship between Yugoslav sociology and bureaucracy in the late 1980s may turn to Vjeran Katunarić’s polemical attack on the sociologist-cum-politician Stipe Šuvar and Šuvar’s critiques of Yugoslav social scientists. In that text, Katunarić condemns Šuvar’s own reformist turn from a “neo-stalinist” to a “liberal-socialist” position. Katunarić notes in passing that sociologists should be as critical of the new political rhetoric of “market economy” and “political democracy” as they were of the old one (Katunarić 1989: 475). 14 Županov is here using the example of the exclusion of sociological contributions from the final version of the Kraigher report, a political document that was supposed to set the global strategy for overcoming the economic crisis in Yugoslavia (Županov 1987b). 15 Dimitrović was one of the key figures in the reformist 11th congress of LCC, quoted above. In fact, the similarities between his article and the Congress proceedings are such that one may presume Dimitrović was involved in the latter’s writing. Like so many other politicians in the 1980s, Dimitrović came to the world of politics from a managerial position. (cf. PSD 2009). 16 Danijela Dolenec wrote about the centrality of the thesis about Yugoslavia’s “deviant modernization” for Croatian sociology (Dolenec 2016). 17 This is precisely the solution to the problems of the newly created Croatian state proposed in a book by one of Županov’s students, Vesna Pusić. The main point is summarized already in the title: Rulers and Managers (Vladaoci i upravljači). Tellingly, workers have been eliminated from the picture. This book was published in 1992, after the shock therapy had wiped out a significant portion of the industry, and at a time when the people who not that long ago organized strikes together, were now busy shooting each other.
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2 Conceptualizing the Inequalities in Knowledge Production and Drawing the Prospects for Postsocialist Studies1 Sanja S. Petkovska Introduction One of the main problems associated with knowledge advancement in the context of modernity and the capitalistic mode of production in which it plays a crucial developmental role when observed from the geopolitical perspective is its asymmetry and uneven distribution of capacities and outputs of knowledge following the uneven distribution of wealth and power. Some of the main indicators of the asymmetry are differences in power for funding research, opportunities for outreach strategies –especially for international publishing –chances and mechanisms for broader recognition outside the national referent community, also in the prospects for and on the academic job market, opportunities to be a site where academic events are organized and be selected to take part in them, and finally, opportunities to get global recognition and high positions in the global ranking systems. This asymmetry has been given growing attention from the side of international scholars as the process of globalization advances and has been conceptualized in many different ways. Even though knowledge circulation is symptomatic for the situation where populations move and different cultures and groups get in touch, what factors have contributed to the knowledge infrastructure and production to grow significantly and for certain types of scholarship to emerge in some places rather than on some other sites? The varieties of global knowledge production dynamics belong to the field of the geopolitics of knowledge production and will, in this chapter, be examined from that approach. After WWII, the differentiation and the division of labour between the areas where knowledge is produced and areas to be known and discovered, which mostly are subjected to the apparatuses from the first type of countries, has gained official acceptance (Schiwy & Ennis, 2002: 3). In these geopolitical groupings and classifications, former socialist space is noticeably overlooked and excluded, while the potential and research production arriving from these countries have mostly been ignored. Throughout the 20th century, numerous attempts have been made to explain the origins of differences and inequalities in knowledge production, followed by difficulty of finding a model with sufficient explanatory and analytical power. Most of the theoretical and methodological tools established to examine the differences in knowledge production have remained on the symbolic and descriptive levels. They were rarely supported DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-4
Inequalities in Knowledge Production 39 by the corresponding research methodology and empirical studies. By taking an overview of the most prominent among them, this chapter will establish the basis for understanding and analysing the knowledge production dependency of the Eastern European former socialist countries while simultaneously drawing the basis for advancing this line of scholarship. The topics of the unevenness and inequality of knowledge production in the most general sense of the term mainly have occupied the minds of the critical social theorists and analysts belonging to the post-Marxist, poststructural, postcolonial, or decolonial direction of thinking. Even though observing this unevenness from some specific angle, the centre-periphery dynamics have mostly been at the core of all the other conceptual developments since the previous initiatives for diversity in knowledge production did not produce better outcomes for the ignored and lethargic spaces in terms of knowledge and research production. In recent times, literary and cultural theorists Edward Said and Gayatri Spivak have set some basic assumptions for approaching and understanding the phenomenon of coloniality of knowledge, the territoriality of knowledge production or a global “epistemic difference” (Ludden 1997; Guardiola-Rivera 2002: 29). This phenomenon of epistemological colonization parallels the colonial spatial differentiation that occurred during the colonization of territories throughout the modern period and corresponds to the globalized epistemological differentiation (Guardiola-Rivera, 2002: 29). Despite the unevenness or inequality of knowledge production being named in different ways, namely scientific imperialism, academic imperialism or dependence, captive mind, subaltern knowledge, indigenous knowledge, intellectual imperialism, intellectual colonialism, and many others, we assume that more or less all of them could be summarized in the three main ones while all the others are only the variants of those: centre-periphery, academic dependency, and decolonial option, all of which will be defined in the following paragraphs (Mäki, 2013). All three main directions of critical scholarship mentioned above start by putting into question the assumptions underlying the project of modernity and modernization itself, which is that the adoption of Western knowledge patterns by all non- Western people is the essential meaning of their potential to develop and progress, or in other words, to modernize. Following these critical lines of reexamination and their achievements, the main aim of this chapter is to elaborate on the possibility of some new kind of progressivity and progressiveness which could serve as a leading idea of the knowledge production in the former socialist, or postsocialist, spaces, to emerge, out of the given policy and governing infrastructure. In addition, this chapter argues that this kind of transformation of the knowledge production systems is necessary if we intend to understand many of the phenomena typical for Eastern Europe. Speaking about postsocialism in geographical terms means talking about Eastern and Central Europe, and particularly the Balkans. All of these territories are, at the same time, concepts founded in political-cultural history, shaping the perception of these spaces in the global context unjustifiably perceived as homogenous, without the capacity to comprehend their specificities and uniqueness. Among the theorists who analysed how the idea of Eastern Europe was produced in the history of ideas are, among the others, the American historian Larry Wolff
40 Sanja S. Petkovska who, in his book “Inventing the Eastern Europe: The Map of Civilisation on the Mind of the Enlightenment” (Wolff, 1994) highlighted particularly that the origin of these characterizations is not recent, but instead could be dated to the age of Enlightenment. The book written by French American sociologist Daniel Chirot, “The Origins of Backwardness in Eastern Europe: Economics and Politics from the Middle Ages until the Early Twentieth Century” (Chirot, 1991), defines this difference negatively already in the title. For a while, this disparity in Eastern Europe was in the shadow and interpreted mainly in the context of their socialist political system. At the same time, the complexities of their development have been often overlooked. Regarding building the infrastructure for local and autogenous knowledge production outside of the Western core, some of the regions, including Eastern Europe, seem to play the role of “dark-side dots and tin pots” of the global market or knowledge production (Paasi 2015a). This subordination is even more dramatically obvious in the context of the emergence of a ‘global auction’, a kind of global academic market of fierce competition where the opportunities and chances are few and reduced even for the nations of the world with the most advantageous higher education systems (Brown, Lauder, & Ashton, 2011: vii). While the rhetoric is often employed to mask this problem of unequal capabilities obstructing the common ground from emerging, many theorists, especially historians, pointed out that the problem is deep, structural, and caused by long-term historical processes. In the meantime, the knowledge production sector has become very complex and unpredictable, heavily dependent on the geopolitical context, and subjected to the overall degradation of labour rights, degradation of the value of knowledge, and precarity of work. Being subjected to a kind of “invisible hand” of the global knowledge market and having a role in transmitting and translating norms set by the international actors in the agenda of global governance mechanisms for higher education, scientists and politicians on the peripheries are challenged to “interrupt the coloniality of knowledge production” and the main goal of this chapter is to set the stage for this kind of research to emerge (Silova, Millei, Piattoeva: 2017). In order to set the stage for designing the basis for a new kind of research at the postsocialist peripheries to emerge, we will reexamine three schools of social theory and their conceptualizations of inequalities and unevenness of knowledge production, one of which is articulated in the world-systems theory and the other two belonging to postcolonial and decolonial theory: academic or intellectual dependency advanced by Singapore-Malaysian sociologist Syed Farid Alatas and decolonial option introduced by Walter Mignolo and Madina Tlostanova. This overall aim of the chapter could be split into two subgoals, one of which is an analysis of the similarities and differences between different conceptualizations of differences in knowledge production and their potential to gain higher explanatory power and inspire empirical research and evidence-based policies. The second part of the aim is to place these conceptual samples into the context of often mentioned new transformations in knowledge production “through changes in funding, research and innovation” in which knowledge creation is “the critical dimension of economic success and political stability in the globalised world” (Fasenfest,
Inequalities in Knowledge Production 41 2010). Finally, these changes are to be observed in the context of motivation for the increased demands “to engage in education, research and innovation”, which generally requires better policy coordination and funding in order to shape the emerging and changing role of institutions in modernization within a global economy at the peripheries. The uneven distribution of power and prestige in academic endeavours always has intriguing thinkers and researchers. Although the precise symmetry is manageable not in any other but in a superficial way, the distribution of the knowledge production has its causes and principles, which should be illustrated. Since inequalities in academic endeavours are various and happen on many levels and dimensions and in many shapes, and sometimes they might look hard to systematize, the initial way to open up a study of this phenomenon is to apply the concepts developed to signify dominance in other domains of social and political life and transfer them to the academic field. According to Sarah Amsler and the insights published in the book The Politics of Knowledge in Central Asia: Science Between Marx and the Market (2007), dealing with the new political economy of knowledge at the peripheries of the world system, the origin of the notion of academic imperialism and explication of the inequalities in knowledge production has been the main topic for the anticolonial movements of the 1960s when the scholars produced critiques of intellectual dependency and developed indigenous theories of colonialism (Amsler, 2007: 31). One of the earliest examples of academic indignation in the context of colonial relations in knowledge production was given in the article written by Marshall B. Clinard and Elder J. W.: ‘Sociology in India: a study in the sociology of knowledge’, published in American Sociological Review in 1965. Concurrently, as Amsler stated, the notion ‘academic imperialism’ is used in the discussion about the development of social sciences in the so-called Third World, such as a report about the social sciences in Latin America written by Florestan Ferdandes in 1967 and in the article written by William Foote Whyte about the role of the U.S. professors in developing countries from 1969 (Amsler 2007: 316). However, although this term is the most prominent one related to the problem of knowledge production asymmetry, which later became one of the most intriguing questions of modern social scholarship, it has not been often utilized in the research produced in the postsocialist peripheries on the topic of knowledge production. Thus, starting with the conceptualization of what later on became known as the ‘epistemic difference’ within the post-Marxist scholarship and theories of centre- periphery of knowledge production, then examining its most relevant postcolonial and decolonial variants, this chapter aims to set a stage for the establishment of a base for postsocialist knowledge production and scholarship advancement and recognition to occur. Three Approaches to Global Inequalities of Knowledge Production It is a fact that most of the existing body of knowledge has been produced in certain regions and by the authors coming from Western Europe and is about the context of this part of the world. The rest of the processes in the other parts of the world
42 Sanja S. Petkovska are based on coming to terms with how to incorporate and respond to this fact, doubting that the products based on these terms adequately represent the other situations. Eurocentrism and coloniality have left the most profound mark on all globally existing attempts to scientifically understand and explain social phenomena and processes (Quijano, 2007: 168). Despite an obvious structural difference, it took some time before the most prominent tool for understanding the dominance of the West appeared among theorists from the field of political sociology. The concept of centre-periphery originated from the late Marxist writings on imperialism but came to the fore in the 70s and endeavours by the scholars debating uneven and combined development. The name of Immanuel Wallerstein became especially prominent in this context since he made the centre-periphery metaphor most popular through his expensive elaborations on the history of capitalism and the emergence of a global world system (Wallerstein, 2011). Still, especially during the 80s, these theories were directly ascribed to the question of the scientific outputs and to the issue of who defines the ontologies and epistemologies for whom as those of importance and ascribe to them the power of direct self-representation. In several of his books, Wallerstein explicitly addresses the role of social science in establishing the dominance of the core of the world system consisting of Western societies and their Eurocentric knowledge systems (Wallerstein, 1999). Later on, many authors were inspired by this theory and worked on employing this rather simplistic and reductionistic scheme of the disbalances of capabilities for knowledge production and, consequently, for searching for the self-establishment and representation on the structures of the geopolitical stage for small peripheral states’ emancipation and empowerment. The central assumption of the world- system approach to knowledge production is that it is not separate from the overall world-system dynamics dictated by the capitalist mode of production (Demeter, 2019: 78–79; Wallerstein, 2004). The Centre-Periphery Relations of Knowledge Production The authors are building on different highly prominent sociologists and social theorists to provide a better analytical and conceptual operationalization of this centre-periphery metaphor, not only Wallerstein. For example, some authors use Pierre Bourdieu and his studies on structural class obstacles the academic world is continuously reproducing in attaining the academic capital, particularly Bourdieu’s book “Homo academicus” appears important (Bourdieu, 1990; Demeter, 2019). In the currency of the knowledge society, intellectual capital is represented through the two main indicators of research productivity: the number of publications and the number of quotes a researcher, a country, or an institution has produced. The standardization of understanding these indicators as crucial allowed for easy classification and ranking of the agents in the knowledge production system and estimation of their knowledge production capacities. There are numerous examples of attempts to operationalize the core-periphery metaphor and transform it into a more analytical tool in the last few decades. Still, none is known as a prominently efficient demonstration of this approach. One of the most relevant applications of the
Inequalities in Knowledge Production 43 centre-periphery tool from the world system theory to the research coming from the East worth mentioning is the work of German-based Romanian sociologist Manuela Boatcă. This example is particularly interesting because she attempts to connect former colonial to postsocialist scholarship through this approach (Boatca, 2006). This way of dealing with the asymmetry of knowledge production existed several decades ago in sociological research of peripheral countries such as Serbia. Authors such as Vojin Milic represent the best-known examples of the application of the centre-periphery concept to the study of research systems of the Eastern periphery. Still, it did not provide some practical ideas on how the subordination and dependency of the semiperipheries could be improved, nor have the other researchers followed it (Petkovska 2017). On the more epistemological and theoretical level, the relatively simple rationale underlying the structural approach to inequality in knowledge production rarely goes with simultaneous empirical testing of these conceptual apparatuses. The main assumption these authors are starting with is the underrepresentation and invisibility of knowledge production from the peripheries and semiperipheries, thus leaving the impression that these territorialities have been “silenced” (Boatca, 2006: 327). Some of the common traits of the divergencies caused by geopolitical and colonial differences are undeniable, such as that the researchers on the peripheries are not educated and prepared for an international career and their research rarely expands into the foreign and transnational domain, which makes even the possibility of accumulation of more significant proportion of knowledge production unachievable from the side on the limitation to the national level (Demeter, 2019: 78). Furthermore, the initial accumulation of the knowledge production of the U.S. and Western European universities in the postwar period was so outstanding that no amount of knowledge capital invested could transform this initial disbalance today. The quantification of this disbalance has got a helpful tool known as the concept of Matthew Effect for Countries (MEC) formulated by Bonitz, Bruckner, and Scharnhorst in 1997, which demonstrates a high concentration of the academic capital and production in a few core countries (Bonitz et al., 1997). The disproportional attention, distribution, and bias structured by the domination of core academies and the primary accumulation prevent the others from taking part in any other form but as subordinated actors. Those subordinated are the marginalized majority of the global knowledge production system. One of the authors who were focused on the inequality of knowledge production was also Susan L. Robertson. She highlights that we first need to interrogate the tools we use to understand the phenomenon of globalization and inequalities in knowledge production and dissemination since their uncritical usage also contributes to their perseverance and reproduction (Robertson, 2006: 304). In addition, numerous authors have visualized the absence of knowledge production in particular geographical places and created a map of centres based on data on research production (Walker and Frimpong Boamah, 2017, Mewa and Goudarzi, 2018, Lessa et al., 2019). Within this approach, particularly noticeable is the work of geographer Anssi Paasi who in his paper “Globalisation, academic capitalism and the uneven geographies of international journal publishing spaces” warns us
44 Sanja S. Petkovska that what might be at stake is the homogenization of publication in social science, which might be harmful to many localities and contexts. Furthermore, he speaks about academic capitalism that might obstruct genuine internationalization (Paasi, 2005: 770). Another paper by the same author, “Academic Capitalism and the Geopolitics of Knowledge”, is thematizing the globalization of academia, research cultures, and the existing forms of hegemony lying behind the Thompson Reuters Web of Science (WoS) databases which have become a synonym of quality providing the information on impact factors of the publications. However, the response to these theories coming in the form of employing alternative concepts like knowledge circulation and such does not avoid the inherent structural hierarchies, and what appears as a paradox in this process is that the attempt to internationalize knowledge production under the given circumstances of internationalization is occurring in the name of national competitiveness and as a result of the competition among the research produced and regulated under the national rules. Yet, simultaneously, the global market is permanently monopolized in the given structures, and no foreseeable knowledge production emerging from the peripheries would be capable of alternating the picture (Paasi, 2015b: 517). In summary, the crucial fact is that the initiatives related to the geopolitical disparities in knowledge production noticeable during the last decades have imposed the numerous challenges on the peripheral knowledge production systems, and in the end, so far, these elaborations did not lead to increased production of alternative knowledge and policies, nor did they effectively connect with the other critical efforts invested into understanding the knowledge production subjugation and the effective way to respond to it. Moreover, while the conceptualizations grounded in the theses of uneven development were influenced mainly by post-Marxism and emerged out of political sociology, another conceptualization of knowledge production inequalities that emerged out of postcolonial sociology is the concept of academic dependency, and it is worth elaborating a bit more on it further. Alatas and Academic Dependency Post-Marxist theories about the global capitalist system, out of which the centre- periphery metaphor has emerged, are closely related to the school of thought about the dependent and uneven development, out of which a thesis on academic imperialism has emerged. One of the authors who have spoken on knowledge production inequalities among the numerous approaches relating to world systems theory, dependent development, uneven development, and the concept of core and periphery or academic centrism is Syed Farid Alatas. While the other sociologists focused more on structural aspects of knowledge production inequalities and post- Marxist theory, what is distinct with this approach is a much higher reliance on postcolonial theory and the concept of Orientalism of Edward Said rather than on some other structural concept. The fact that Alatas has spoken simultaneously about academic development, intellectual colonialism, academic dependency, etc., tells us that the term used to describe the same scheme is less important and that all of them, in reality, signify the same phenomenon. As it is well known,
Inequalities in Knowledge Production 45 the postcolonial theory emerged out of literary criticism and has been focused on the notion of orientalism, which is, above all, culturally centred conceptualization. Despite postcolonialism being an important critical approach for understanding the asymmetries in knowledge production, here we will not examine the postcolonial theory independently since it is a complex approach challenging to summarize in a short description and more or less included in the approach of intellectual colonialism and decolonial option themselves. The postcolonial theory itself did not produce many methodological and empirical analyses; therefore, it remained primarily a rhetorical and ideational school of thought. One of the notions crucial for understanding the academic dependency is the concept of orientalism formulated by Edward Said, referring to “a mode of thought based on particular epistemology and ontology establishing a division between Orient and Occident” (Patel, 2020: 12). Indigenous, local knowledge not accepted as science is crucial for the postcolonial theory and the reasons why it has not been taken as knowledge in the same way as knowledge which is part of the canon. However, it does not go deeper into the reasons behind this difference and what is causing it. The most explicit formulation of Alatas’ operationalization of the imperial epistemic difference is given in a series of articles published from 2000 onwards such as “Intellectual Imperialism: Definition, Traits, and Problems” and “Academic Dependency in the Social Sciences: Reflections on India and Malaysia” (Alatas, 2000a, 2000b); “Academic dependency and the global division of labour in the social sciences” (Alatas, 2003), Intellectual and Structural Challenges to Academic Dependency (Alatas, 2008), and many others, among which some articles were aimed at analysing the phenomenon of academic dependency from a kind of combination between postcolonial studies and dependency theory, by intersecting the concepts of colonialism, imperialism, and dependency. In these articles, Alatas highlights that imperialism is not limited to economic and political aspects of the historical process but encompasses different aspects of human undertaking, including education and science. The work on the academic dependency of Alatas as a sociologist is quite specific compared to the postcolonial thinkers, and in comparison, it is significantly less popular and known in the other peripheries. He offers a more exact operationalization of the terms he develops, not only their purely theoretical elaboration. For example, in his article from 1993, “On the Indigenization of Academic Discourse” he defines the “captive mind” as uncritical acceptance and imitation of the terms from the Western academy by the scholars from the Third World (Alatas, 1993). Among some defining features of academic or intellectual imperialism is that it can be the effect of direct or indirect imperialism, which is related to subordinating people by their way of thinking, objectification, and weak strategies of representation. While postcolonialism considers more intellectual and general concepts, the approach of Alatas is more focused on institutional mechanisms of domination within the academy. In this critical stance towards knowledge produced in the colonial constellations, what has been known as “exceptionalism” of the West comes under particular scrutiny since the assumption that only the West can produce science meets a strong opposition (Harding, 2011: 5). The process
46 Sanja S. Petkovska of epistemological subjugation is not linear and one- dimensional since these structures based on unequal relations are often accepted and created in cooperation with the local people Spivak called the native informants. They probably hold a privileged position within the local society and are employed by colonial governance actors. Many local knowledge producers move to the Western countries to produce knowledge about their homelands for foreign universities and institutes. Considerable efforts have been made to include scientists and researchers from developing countries in global knowledge centres, and many scholarship schemes exist with this aim, where the sign of dependence would be the lack of resources and capacities to attract international students. Still, almost none encourage autonomous local knowledge production for its own sake, nor is there a chance it could be more widely accepted if not represented according to the existing standards and frameworks. The relation between dominating and dominated, as described by Alatas, has the following characteristics: there is exploitation and control by the subjugating power over the people dominated; there is a form of tutelage: the dominated people are considered a kind of ward within a tutelage system. They are taught certain things, they are asked to do certain things, and they are organized towards certain ends and purposes laid out by the subjugating power; the subjugating dominant power expects the dominated people to conform to certain aspects of its life, its organization, and its rules; the dominated people play a secondary role in the set-up of the production and publication of knowledge; and there is the existence of intellectual rationalization, which is an attempt to explain imperialism as a necessary stage in human progress and that the business of the imperialist power is to civilize the people under subjugation. Finally, it is expected that inferior talents often run the subjugated country and that there is no openness in the academic field to innovation and new knowledge-producing forces. These features, at least some of them, are often present in narratives on intellectual and academic dominance and inequality and sometimes seem too repetitive and oversimplified. Throughout the different articles published by Alatas, other characteristics appear as defining features of academic imperialism, such as a limited degree of competence and creativity expected from non-Western people and sympathetic orientalism and paternalism expressed by the dominating actor; whatever the local scholarship has achieved in the past was considered incomplete and seriously defective –or in case of former socialist countries, ideologically contaminated – and finally it is incapable of establishing some common standards for knowledge production which will increase the quality of local knowledge production. In the article “Academic Dependency and the Global Division of Labor in the Social Sciences” from 2003, Alatas speaks interchangeably about academic imperialism, academic dependency, and academic neocolonialism, driving more on dependency theory than on postcolonial concepts (Alatas 2003: 601). Specific characteristics which define some countries as academic imperialists in social science are that they are generating large outputs of social science research in the form of scientific papers in peer-reviewed journals, books, and working and research papers; they have the access and a global reach of the ideas and information contained in these works and the ability to influence the social sciences of countries due to the
Inequalities in Knowledge Production 47 consumption of the works originating in the powers. Finally, dominating countries achieve great recognition, respect, and prestige at home and abroad (Alatas 2003: 602). One of the implications of this division of labour is that social scientists in countries considered for academic powers do theoretical and empirical work. In contrast, social scientists in dependent countries mainly engage in empirical research. Furthermore, social scientists of imperial and colonial prominence pursue research about their own and other countries, while this kind of expansion is not typical for academics from less developed places. Also, social scientists from dependent counties are focused on research about their own country and rarely have the opportunity to research Western courtiers. However, it is a crucial disadvantage of this approach not to be followed by empirical research and evidence on the phenomena which have been the object of theoretical examination. In case it has been demonstrated how these conceptual apparatuses work in practice, and some figures were following the claims, the entire approach of Alatas would have much more power and be much more persuasive. The fact that the scholars outside the Western-dominated academies must deal intensively with this domination itself and the following division of labour is somewhat overly deterministic and discouraging. The dependency theory did not produce super intensive and extensive research production. However, Alatas, in the series of publications, has established himself as a leading theorist among the second wave of dependency scholars, at least in certain parts of the world (Tenzin and Lee, 2022: 3). On the other hand, particularly interesting for us is the fact that while dependency and world system theories, in general, were somewhat familiar and represented in the former socialist world, it seems that the writings of Alatas did not provoke much reception in the postsocialist academies nor have been cited among the postsocialist scholars so far. The situation with the third conception of the knowledge production differences presented in this chapter, the decolonial option, is somewhat different; however neither had the considerable reception in the Western Balkans. Some of the pieces written by Madina Tlostanova on gender studies and feminist theory have been translated into a local language in Croatia, but this is a rare exception (Kasic et al, 2013). Before representing the main points of the third conceptual formulation of the inequalities of knowledge production of relevance for tracing the place from which the future theories and methodologies of alternative knowledge production should commence, which also included the initiative of connecting to the postsocialist world and implied collaboration between postcolonial scholars with the scholars from former socialist countries, it might be helpful to notice that while in the 70s and 80s, the reception of critical social scholarship has been regular and the translations mandatory, in the last decades it became pretty irregular and sporadic in the region and academies of former Yugoslavia. Many books crucial for postcolonial theory have not been translated officially nor published in a local language; therefore, this fact has made building up on the existing scholarship and emergence of updated critical postsocialist scholarship much more difficult. In addition, the access to academic journals in the region has been insufficient to satisfy the criteria and provide essential insight into the contemporary production in social sciences.
48 Sanja S. Petkovska All of this certainly impacted the possibility of advancing regional critical social theory and methodology, leaving the knowledge production in social sciences of the former Yugoslavian academy, but mostly also in other former socialist regions, firmly behind the level it possibly would have if the opposite had been the case. Decolonial Option and Decolonial Thinking While the rupture existed in the possibility for postsocialist scholars to follow the most current and critical academic production for a while, for them, there is no excuse not to become familiar with the approaches which could improve their awareness and understanding of their own position, which could be of great importance at the moment. The most actual and well-known attempt to join the capacities and apparatuses of postcolonial theory and emerging studies of socialism is known as the decolonial option. It was founded on a departure from postcolonial thought, which, according to decolonial thinkers, did not make the departure from modern European view but still is its constitutive part. This version of conceptualizing the inequalities in knowledge production in its most well-known form has been articulated by Walter D. Mignolo, a William H. Wannamaker Professor and Director of the Center for Global Studies and the Humanities at Duke University, and Madina Tlostanova, previously a Professor in the Department of Comparative Politics at the People’s Friendship University of Russia and now professor of postcolonial feminisms at Linkoping University. The Colonial Era that occurred roughly speaking from 1550 to 1900, had been territorial, and was followed by the founding methodologies of objectification of indigenous local people and communities. These epistemologies and ontologies of the colonial system for the authors and decolonial thinkers represent the “dark side of modernity”, and they wanted to create an alternative epistemology for less developed, small academic centres. At the same time, coloniality is the form of domination in the world today which has remained once colonialism as an explicit political order was destroyed and is now global and not only relevant to former colonies (Escobar, 2013: 43). Coloniality of power still, strong and influential, rests on racist classification mechanisms of the world’s populations, and it limits their knowledge production and dissemination capacities. The main task for non-Western cultures of the 20th century “has been coming to terms with modernity”, or “learning how to cope with or respond to Western ways and Western patterns of thought, chiefly democracy and science” (Guardiola- Rivera, 2002: 15). This group of authors has recognized the colonial difference as the primary mechanism of differentiation concerned in comparison to the other differences, including the difference between Westerners and Easterners. The two most essential books in which this approach has been crafted are “Learning to Unlearn” (2012) and “Globalization and Decolonial Option” (2013), but numerous other books and articles have also been written in cooperation by Mignolo and Tlostanova. The decolonial option is based on border epistemology and border thinking, while the movement towards decolonization in critical scholarship has been named a decolonial turn. This turn implies differentiating from dependency sociology
Inequalities in Knowledge Production 49 and postcolonialism since it is assumed they belong to and are part of Western ‘zero-point epistemology’, which negates all the other approaches and points of view represented in their heavy reliance on poststructuralism. Concerning this, the decolonial geopolitics and body-politics of knowledge represent the attempt at a radical point of departure from the colonial matrix of power, which means unlearning the epistemological foundations on which the relations toward non- Europeans rest. The division of power, labour, and capital accumulation on the global level rests on these old divisions accompanied by other means of classification and differentiation upon which the academic division of labour resets, such as class, race, gender, ethnicity, etc. Compared to colonialism, coloniality designates the continuity of subjugation of the colonized and domination of the colonizers by other means after the physical conquest of the territories ended in the state of global coloniality. Colonialism signified the political and economic confiscation of the sovereignty of smaller countries. At the same time, the coloniality of power refers to the formational, structural process of establishing the enduring hierarchical relations among the continents, regions, and nations of the world. This order was established by utilizing the colonial and imperial differences based on racial classifications. The imperial difference makes hierarchization even among the empires, and according to this, the former SSSR, or Russia, is a second-class empire compared to the Western powers. The radical shift in the situation of being colonized commences with recognizing the colonial wound resulting from the condition of oppression and subjugation of subaltern and indigenous groups. The negation of the difference and specificity of alternate pieces of knowledge to the zero-point blast by decolonial authors is considered an episticide by the decolonial thinkers. Therefore, the shift expected and desired is to delink from the colonial matrix of power and its epistemic foundation first by unlearning mechanisms built into its foundations and, consequently, by engaging in border thinking. Border thinking aims to restore the colonial difference, which is threatening to be erased by the unifying tendencies of globalization (Mignolo, 2000: 3). By using border thinking, it is possible to recognize the colonial difference and initiate the epistemological processes outside the domination of the colonial matrix of power. While in the book “Globalisation and Decolonial Option” colonialism and modernization are related to capitalism on the margins, and most of the authors are associated with this school of thought, none of the approaches mentioned here actually and seriously elaborated on the connection between economic, and other types of inequalities and academic inequalities systematically and extensively. Most of the authors related to the decolonial direction of disciplinary and thematic lines belong to the field of cultural studies. Even though they claim they pursue serious epistemological engagement, they do not utilize rigorous methods. According to Mignolo, border thinking is a critical reflection on knowledge production from both the interior borders of the modern/colonial world system (imperial conflicts, hegemonic languages, the directionality of translations, etc.) and its exterior borders (imperial conflicts
50 Sanja S. Petkovska with cultures being colonised, as well as the subsequent stages of independence or decolonisation). (Mignolo 2000: 11) Among the elements of the decolonial option worth mentioning is the need to learn to unlearn, where Mignolo and Tlostanova think it is crucial to revisit the local histories of different geopolitical spaces rather than seek to ground some new grand narrative (Tlostanova & Mignolo, 2012: 6). These authors do not rely on peripheral or alternative modernities but rather on detaching from any colonial formation since that is a place where the unlearning process commences. The main point of unlearning is to relearn differently, in a way suitable for different positionalities and identities for backgrounds different from Western. Decolonization is particularly important in education since future knowledge production depends on training new researchers and scholars. Still, that is also the leading emancipatory concept of our times (Petkovska, 2022). Even though the intersection of postcolonial and postsocialist thought as expressed in the decolonial approach has many useful sides, such as providing a solid base for understanding the complex realities of the former socialist world, probably they are not sufficient to encompass all the relevant phenomena of inequality in knowledge production and dissemination except as the main framework. Therefore, the theoretical and conceptual foundations needed for a comprehensive foundation of postsocialist studies are yet to be invented. However, it should be highlighted that all of the concepts presented in this article, particularly the last one by Mignolo and Tlostanova, might help provide the theoretical framework for further empirical research of the phenomena present in former socialist countries while documenting the transformation. In any case, few attempts to accomplish empirical research that will utilize apparatuses of the decolonial approach have been made. This is what is supposed to be the initial wave of growth of knowledge production from the region coming from the local authors themselves. Besides raising the question of why this important task is still waiting to be imposed, this chapter demonstrates the initial impulse in that direction by mapping the current situation in the critical scholarship and opening up the issue of the importance of the emergence of new conceptual and methodological tools, followed by the intensive empirical research of the phenomena characterizing the postsocialist transformation. Conclusion: How to Empower Postsocialist Knowledge Production in an Era of Global Coloniality and Cognitive Capitalism? In this chapter, we have had a goal to examine what the contemporary critical theory has in its reservoir when it comes to choosing the best concepts for analysing the inequalities in knowledge production systems which might be helpful in future attempts to ground a body of knowledge about the former socialist countries and related phenomena as a globally recognized academic field. Accordingly, world-systems theory, academic imperialism, and decolonial thinking were identified among the three mainly employed and well-known ones. However, in the
Inequalities in Knowledge Production 51 same fashion, as decolonial thinkers found the centre-periphery approach and the postcolonial theory insufficiently independent from colonial epistemology, these concepts might be understood as foreign to the Easterners and unsuitable for the application to their problems and contexts. But, on the other hand, if the small knowledge production systems of the East could achieve some epistemological significance on a global scale, then in front of us is the task of the invention of new concepts and notions that will relate only to this region and its common and noncommon characteristics. The need for additional theoretical and methodological tools helpful in the research of the contemporary postsocialist phenomena and for higher research production by the local authors themselves raised by some authors seems to get more prominence among the scholars. What is strikingly missing from these decolonial approaches to inequalities of knowledge production is more awareness of the structures and problems surrounding the knowledge production activities and scholarly efforts. While the globalization of knowledge and its new forms of functioning in society and processes of production, including the governance mechanisms, are changing, was it also something to get proper notice altogether with examining the inequalities of knowledge production? The growing interdependency of the governance mechanisms around the world also implies the increasing similarity in policies that govern the sector related to cognitive work, which is certainly relevant for the possibility of the appearance of critical scholarship and research on the postsocialist margins of Europe. The model for policies in most former socialist centuries during socialism was transferred from the USSR or used the USSR as a model for its foundation; therefore, these systems of knowledge production share some common characteristics. In that case, it is not the case that the postsocialist countries can or are encouraged to develop an independent policy model or solution after the fall of socialism. This dominant current policy of knowledge production and dissemination is more or less based on the ideology of the so-called new production of knowledge, or what Cvijanovic, Fumagalli, and Vercelone (2010) have named cognitive or knowledge–based capitalism. It is striking how this problem is mainly ignored in examined critical approaches focused on cultural and ideational aspects rather than on structural and material restraints through policies, which more or less are most responsible for its oppressive features. Even if it is often hard to speak about the disadvantages of the internationalization of education and research because it is a condition sine qua non in these fields and it is usually assumed to come from the traditional and conservative right or left, the so-called modernization of education and research that is globally imposed is a compelling transformative process that fundamentally challenges the role education and science had in the so-called developing world. This change in policy includes three main instances: discursive, supranational, and related to knowledge production as cognitive labour pursued under the given legislative, material, and institutional frameworks shaping it. Fascinating is the absence of these practical and political aspects of the position of young producers of knowledge coming from the peripheries in these epistemological examinations like they compose a completely separated world from the world dealing with the reform of higher education
52 Sanja S. Petkovska and research. The approaching theories of the critical providence, in any case, would have to reflect on both in order to fulfil the basic criteria to be considered critical –to include a reference to a given situation in reality in which transformation of knowledge governance is something not to be omitted (Nelson, 2012). Therefore, it might be helpful to summarize what these changes related to the knowledge governance transformations are all about. First, they imply that knowledge is and will dominantly be a factor directly included in production processes. The emancipatory role of science is or will be suppressed, although it cannot be excluded entirely nor ignored. However, the critical scholarship has many new types of challenges it has to respond to. First, there comes everything we know as neoliberal or free-market reform in education and research: privatizations, increasing fees, precarity, artificial intelligence, digitalization, intellectual property issues, etc. The importance of these problems is much more dramatic in postsocialist countries since they are poorer. Consequently, the issues of competition, excellence, and performativity will more and more dominate and influence education and research, rather than solidarity and the importance of sharing in learning and research, which might not be easy to standardize, such as any critically inspired study framed in an area approach. Finally, different and complicated knowledge production infrastructures of former socialist countries deserve special attention and empirical examination, including the complex issues of disciplinary division of work and institutional knowledge structures. But unfortunately, these regions do not seem to be able to sustain these processes, and current trends decrease rather than increase their knowledge production capacities. A question we imposed here is whether and to what extent the experiences of (post)colonialism and the concept of academic colonialism developed in that context are useful and transferable to understanding the inequalities of knowledge production in the postsocialist countries. We have found very few attempts to use the dependency theory, world-system theory, or even postcolonial theory to explain what is happening to education and research in postsocialist countries, even if, so far, there is no better critical framework to address these problems. Therefore, the prior establishment of a connection between the three mentioned critical approaches to knowledge production inequalities seem possible and productive because both former socialist countries and former colonies are subordinated to global academic imperialism and cognitive capitalism; despite all their differences, the exchange of knowledge among them might be worth of building up the stronger knowledge production forces. They are challenged to compete under unequal starting positions and under the same rules. While some demonstrated the ability to keep the pace, like China, the other seems to transform into the passive periphery of the global academic market. The most important for critical thinkers and scientists is to find the concepts to explain and describe the problems postsocialist countries face and document the consequences of transformations in education and research. The concepts of academic imperialism and cognitive capitalism could be very productive as a framework for a deeper understanding of the hierarchies, dominance, and subordination
Inequalities in Knowledge Production 53 of former socialist countries within global processes and structures. However, since these transformations do not affect different groups and affiliations in the same way, it will be challenging to encompass all the experiences of inequality and loss this process produces. Therefore, this draws the lines and points out the direction the scholars from former socialist countries should take to start building up the transnationally operating theoretical and empirical apparatuses and produce knowledge that will be useful in understanding and transforming their realities. Note 1 This paper represents the result of the authors’ engagement in accordance with the Working Plan and Program of the Institute of Criminological and Sociological Research for 2023 (based on contract no. 451-03-47/2023-01) with Ministry of Science, Technological Development and Innovation of the Republic of Serbia.
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Part II
Decolonizing Perspectives on Migration and Leftist Politics and Policies
3 Care Extractivism in Migration Flows from Postsocialist to Southern Europe and Care Municipalism as a Decolonizing Project Angelina Kussy and Łukasz Moll
Introduction This chapter informs against social inequalities and injustice related to the care provision in Europe, explaining the political mechanism sustaining it. Focusing on migrant’s domestic work, it shows that the neocolonial logic related to care, takes place not only between the global North and South but also within Europe itself, and describes the “care corridor” between Romania and Spain. Nevertheless, the care nexus between the new postsocialist Eastern member states of the EU and Southern countries of the Mediterranean basin cannot be explained by past dependencies and hierarchies of a colonial character sensu stricto (as in the case of Southern Europe and Latin America or North Africa), nor by the clear cartography of centres and peripheries. This case should be analyzed rather as an inherently European phenomenon – as the achievement of the recent phase of the European Union’s integration. Subsequently, we explain how these broader unequal extractivist processes around social care provision are supported by stigmatizing discourses on Eastern Europeans, and how they encourage social hierarchy and abuse. Finally, we take a decolonial perspective to propose an alternative to the transnationalization of social reproduction and the so-called care chains (Hochschild 2014). The ethnographic fieldwork, which inspired our reflections and analyses was conducted between March 2018 and July 2019 in Castellón de la Plana. It is an industrial province on the Spanish Mediterranean coast where about 10%1 of its total population was of Romanian origin. They are warmly welcomed there, especially by the City Hall, public servants, and local nongovernmental organizations. Migrants’ transnational social networks allowed for the establishment of migration corridors between different rural and postindustrial suburbs of Romania and Castellón, where initially, in the nighties, migrants worked mostly in agriculture or were employed in the tourist sector and private houses. After the economic crisis in 2008, the impoverished Spanish middle class, to a lesser degree than before, uses their cleaning services but must rely on migrants’ work to provide care for the dependent members of their families. Castellón’s increasingly ageing population creates a very high demand for care work in the province. As the welfare system care provision is weak, its privatization in Spain is intensive and with the DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-6
60 Angelina Kussy and Łukasz Moll influx of migrants, private home-based care remains cheap. In order to remain so, it is also devalued, and migrants’ low negotiation leverage encourages hierarchical relations in the sector. In the Spanish Catholic churches in Castellón, local women are talking about “their Romanian girls”, especially before the crises, there was a fashion to “have one”, as they were saying, at home. A 56-year domestic worker of Romanian origins, a migrant in Spain, takes care of an elderly person with limited physical skills. In her employer’s house, they transmit to her “the feeling that Romanians are worse than Spaniards”. “They see me as a thief, scammer. The better you behave with these types of people, the worse they treat you. They humiliate us. They say that they have studied and worked to have what they have, as if I didn’t work since I was a teenager!” –she says indignantly. Another Romanian carer of the elderly in Spain, also over 50 years old, testifies that her employer showed her a photo found on the Internet, supposedly from Romania. It portrayed a plot with a falling apart small wooden house and a vault toilet in a very bad condition. “This is how you live there, in Romania” –he said. “They are very educated people, university professors, artists, authors”, one Romanian cleaner over forty who in her spare time writes poetry highlighted referring to her employers. As an illustration of the good manners and generosity of her employers, she shares that for every Christmas, they buy her a gift: “but really, like something worth 30 euros. They always care about me”. Nevertheless, for a dozen years, she worked informally because the same employers did not want to legalize her work despite her reiterated requests. “I can’t oblige anyone to anything” –she answers. Many Romanians consider the treatment they receive as unjust, expressing it by saying, “we are not Gypsies”, as “we are hard-working people”. They often attribute the stigmatization they encounter from part of their employers, accompanied by the commonly spread practice of informal hiring or violation of the already scarce labour rights of the domestic workers, to misfortune. Yet there are those other kinds of employers, they stress, who help Romanian workers, who lend them some money in a critical situation and –above all else – treat them as “members of the family”. They do formalize their work, do pay the minimum statutory salary and do pay for the holidays according to the law. The aim of our recalling of these ethnographic quotes and observations is to point out the function of the stigmatizing discourses on Eastern Europeans for broader unequal and economic processes, based on the quasi-colonial logic, and sustained by the current social reproductive regime. As to attribute them, for example, to the lack of personal education of particular employers, their ignorance, or their violent temper would be a completely politically blind interpretation. In an allegedly postcolonial Europe, neocolonial relations are seen as the remnants of the unfinished overcoming of the dark past, if they are acknowledged at all. This general belief remains intact even though the systemic subjugation of migratory work is an integral feature of the celebrated integration of Europe. As much as the care crisis aggravates –and this tendency will be only progressing due to the ageing European population and lack of a proper political response from the public sector –the extraction of the care work will contribute to migrants’ exploitation. In the case of domestic work, it entails the “return of the servant classes”
Care Extractivism in Migration Flows 61 (Sassen 2004), getting even to the situation where forms of structurally coercive recruitment and particular cases of work and life conditions make live-in care one of the key sites of the forms of modern slavery. This worrisome tendency should be analyzed in the European context of transformations of social policy regimes that took place both in countries of emigration of care workers and countries of recipients of care. With the transition from welfare and socialist states to the neoliberal regimes of accumulation, a new international division of labour was accompanied by a new international division of care work. The thesis on the necessary reduction of caring labour with the progress of modernization turned out to be far from reality (Romero, Preston and Giles 2016: 4–5). In a Europe united around a common market, what we got instead was the globalization of the reproductive sphere of work that followed the globalization of production (Kofman and Raghuram 2015: 68). The privatization and commodification of care work on both sides of the former Iron Curtain contributed to the creation of a European market for commodified care work (Adamson 2016: 31). It resulted in domestic enclosures of women in the East and the West alike: if in the former the domestic work was more often unpaid and restricted to the family, then in the case of the latter the possibility of employing migrant women from poorer countries created the opportunity to delegate the “dirty work” to somebody else (Skornia 2014: 244). The governments created favourable conditions for the externalization of care responsibilities by the employment of migrant workers, even by providing public funds to outsource care work to the households (Anttonen and Zechner 2011: 30) or delegating its organization to private work agencies (Chau 2020: 149). New care regime based on the transnationalization of its provision made it possible to build well-being thanks to the resources of mobilized transnational workers (Yeates 2009: 30): a new global army of reproductive labour (Nail 2019: 62). Feminist scholars coined many concepts to grasp these trends towards the transnationalization of reproduction: “the new domestic world order”, “the new international division of care labour”, “transnational economy of domestic labour”, “global survival circuits” (Fudge 2016: 227), “the extraction of emotional commons/care commons” (Mosuela 2020: 32) and the most popular “the global care chains” (Hochschild 2014), referring to a globalized labour market for care-intensive labour, which migrants from less developed countries provide in more developed countries. Here, we use the term “care extractivism” (Wichterich 2020: 121–140) to highlight the similarity between the capitalist market and the state unsustainable treatment of the “reproductive” labour and nature which results in the abusive usage of both. In capitalism (and, in a major or lesser degree, any system based on productivist economic principle), care belongs to “nature”, and so it is treated in the same way, as a “natural resource”, a free (or almost free) to ride on, “environment” (Plumwood 1993: 192) understood as the backstage, surroundings for the real value-creating “productive” activity (Mezzandri 2019). Nowadays, care is one of the key “scarce” sources (Katona and Melegh 2020) that are extracted based on socially produced inequalities between regions and classes. Different scholars described an underlying colonial mechanism of care drain or care extractivism from the Global South to the North, but little theoretical
62 Angelina Kussy and Łukasz Moll reflection was dedicated to a similar mechanism within Europe itself. Focusing on the household sector, we argue that the colonial extraction process and forms of servitude take place within contemporary Europe despite the lack of a colonial history between its regions in a strict sense. Following postcolonial sociology, in exploring the colonial mechanisms of care extraction, we do not look at Europe as a monolith. Eastern Europe and the Balkans need to be re-mapped in the context of a hierarchical model of multiple Europe as the “epigonal Europe”, revealing its different and sometimes contradictory contribution to European colonial culture, imperialism, slavery, and servitude (Boatcă 2010). When it comes to caring, Eastern Europe occupies an ambivalent place in European care extraction. From one point of view, it is the place of care outsourcing (Western older migrants move to Eastern Europe for cheaper nursing homes and care work in general) and exploitation of migrants from outside of the European Union, like in the case of Ukrainians in Poland. But more fundamentally, it provides significant numbers of female migrants to care work in Western and Southwestern countries, like Germany, Austria, Spain, and Italy. They are not only migrant domestic workers on whom we focus in this chapter but also nurses, babysitters, workers of nursing homes, etc. We aim to shed some light on the structural constraints of the gendered labour migration of postsocialist workers to Southwestern Europe to be employed as domestic workers, easing the care crisis in these countries sharpened by austerity measures and to examine the role of the stigmatizing, essentialist discourses that accompany them. Our point is that the migrant’s stigmatization’s function is to support the “imperial mode of living” (Brand and Wissen 2018) based on the power relations thanks to which the middle classes secure their reproduction and level of life and consumption “recruiting, appropriating, and extracting care capacities from less prosperous regions” (Wichterich 2019: 15). These regimes, as Wichterich argues, are “driven and governed by a neocolonial and neoliberal interest in the cheap labour force” (2019: 15). Here, we will focus on a particular inter-European neoliberal capitalism’s mechanism of care extraction visible in migration flows from Romania to Spain. However, within Europe, a similar phenomenon can be observed, for instance, in the migration of Poles to Germany, Slovakians to Austria, or other postsocialist workers migration to Southwestern Europe, both Italy and Spain. We find this relationship between two traditional European peripheries, commonly marginalized in comparison to the core countries of North-Western Europe, an interesting case of the creation of new subtle, yet complex colonial-like relations. The dominant focus on injustices and imbalances on the axis between the West and the East or the North and the South makes it harder to notice those processes of Europeanization that link “the margins” of Europe. Spain-Romania care corridor The management of the care crisis through migrant’s work is a large-scale phenomenon in Europe. As it was acknowledged by the European Union, there are
Care Extractivism in Migration Flows 63 9.5 million domestic workers in the member states, of which 90% are women; only 6.3 million of these workers are declared and at least 3.1 million are working undeclared by their employers.2 In the case of Southern European countries, it is estimated that migrant workers make up more than half of the workforce in the home care sector: 75% in Italy and 60% in Spain (Lebrun and Decker 2020: 23). In Spain, household jobs represent 27.6% of all this kind of employment in the EU (UGT 2019). We can see, though, that the level of privatization of care there is very high. Most migrant care workers in Spain come from Latin American countries, but those from Eastern Europe represent a significant number too. In 2019, 43,093 out of 160,113 of all foreign domestic workers affiliated in Social Security were from European Union countries (UGT 2019), and these numbers refer only to the employees officially registered in the Spanish Social Security system, while 30% to 40% of domestic workers work in the underground economy (Lebrun and Decker 2020: 26). Romanians in Castellón city concordantly estimate that it would be about 80% of Romanian care workers who work informally there. Most of the care workers there come from Romania and they are recruited to occupy this niche through their own personal transnational networks (Instituto de Mayores & Servicios Sociales 2005: 162). Domestic work in Spain is characterized by bad work conditions and weak social security. In 2017, 51.6% of domestic work employees, mainly women, had part-time contracts (85% of them received a salary less than 717.2 euros). Employees are exposed to labour abuses like too long working hours, unrecognized real working hours in the contract, unpaid holidays, as well as on sexual and mental harassment (Chulvi 2020). They are also discriminated against by law, since domestic work is registered upon a Special Regime of Household Employees, as opposed to the General Regime of Social Security and as such domestic workers do not benefit from the same rights as other workers of paid leave for illness or accident, either to unemployment subsidy. As León (2010) explains, historically, the expansion of the household sector as the main source of care provision for the elderly was encouraged in Spain during the last three decades by the country’s familistic welfare regime and the migration model. Not without importance for this social organization of care, which remains based on the exploitation of migrants’ work, were the pressure exercised on the Spanish welfare system from Brussels as a form of neoliberal management of the 2008 debt crisis based on the idea of the need for “austerity” measures. Despite the state’s support of long-term care –mainly through the 2007 Law on Dependency, the first normative framework towards granting a universal subjective right to be cared for –the subsequent structural adjustment programs and neoliberal logics behind social policies’ design weakened the state’s intervention in health and care provision. This included the decreased annual public spending on such public services like dependency (Peña-Longobardo et al. 2016), contributing to its marketization. On the other side, in postsocialist countries after 1989, the massive accumulation of capital took place, which was based on wide-ranging privatization, commodification, and marketization (Hardy 2009), also in the care sector. In the
64 Angelina Kussy and Łukasz Moll conditions of structural unemployment and deindustrialization of the postsocialist economy, the admission to the European Union opened new possibilities for migration flows from Eastern to Western Europe. The neoliberal logic of the EUs treaties like that from Maastricht (1992), which subjugates the employment policies to the monetary ones (based on the control of deficit, inflation, and public debt), prevents states from job creation while at the same time, structural adjustments do not let the margin for alternative models of social security. The situation of massive unemployment and lack of alternative opportunities for social security expulsed Eastern Europeans, including Romanians, to work abroad. Women are affected in a particular way since the neoliberal policies and discourses which re-positioned them mostly as carers (and not mainly as workers like in the socialist regime) in the public debate contributed to their expulsion from the market and to suffer from larger periods of employment inactivity. From being informal carers of their families after 1989, they become waged carers abroad as the context of the care crisis in the destination countries delegates them to that particular market niche. This tendency was strengthened by a conservative backlash against women rights which in Eastern postsocialist countries accompanied the neoliberal economic reforms. The re-discovery –after an “abnormal” era of socialist experiments with gender roles –of “normal”, “traditional” women with her maternal and caring responsibilities served the new European division of care labour very well. In the case of postsocialist Romania, Marinescu (2021) discussed the construction of “the myth of motherhood” which was functional to the application of the neoliberal logic of governance. When looking at both sides of the former Iron Curtain, we see that the rising demand for foreign care workers on the Western side was partly fulfilled by the Eastern part, which was ready to answer it. Thus, we can speak of the opening of the Spain-Romania care corridor in the enlarged Europe. The spectre of new orientalism … Different structural conditions: policies and laws in Europe, including the European Union and the existence of complementarity of the inequalities created by the weak welfare systems from different European countries, construct the social reproductive regime in Europe based on the exploitation of migrant’s care work. But these policies and laws can function at all because they are supported in the form of essentialist and stigmatizing discourses, which practical examples we could see at the beginning of this chapter. The construction of the much-celebrated unified Europe should be seen from the perspective of “multiplication of labour”, as it was advocated by Mezzadra and Neilson (2013). The authors highlight the role of the mechanism of the “differential inclusion” of migrant workers in which the discursive difference of nationality, ethnicity, race, gender, etc., is mobilized in order to deprive migrants of full status, rights, or dignity. In the case of female migrant care workers, they observe the overlapping strategies of “excluding by including” (2013: 159–164): being a reproductive/care worker, a woman and a migrant locates them outside the realm of “full-fledged” male, productive and native worker. To this, we should add the imprint of “Eastness”, or –be more precise – “Eastern-Europeanness”.
Care Extractivism in Migration Flows 65 It is far from obvious how to conceptualize the discursive position of “Eastern- Europeanness”. With the rise to prominence of postcolonial studies, it is now much easier to criticize past and present dependencies between Europe/the West and former Third World or global South countries. Nevertheless, the position of Eastern Europe in global cartographies of power and knowledge is still harder to map. It still falls out of the picture: both the dominant/Eurocentric and the postcolonial one. It is partly because the concepts such as Eastern Europe, Central-Eastern Europe, or Central Europe sneak out from clear binary oppositions between Europe and Orient or Europe and non-Europe. In that regard, they are close to other fuzzy, liminal, and threshold concepts, such as the Balkans (Todorova 2009) or the Slavdom (Janion 2006). In Inventing Eastern Europe, Larry Wolff (1994) demonstrated how the title concept was created –starting from the era of Enlightenment –as a poorer and outlandish twin brother of the proper/Western Europe. Thus, Eastern Europe is stretched between Europe and Orient and its borders are far from obvious, constantly shifting, porous, and imaginary. They participate in the European “borderline syndrome” (Balibar, 2004: 3–6), in which the lack of the essence and borders of Europe causes the obsessive need to create it stably. This mechanism of semi-orientalization or half-Europeanization of Eastern Europe has important consequences for our analysis. It contributes to the discursive creation of the reservoir of cheap and compliant care labour for the Westerners. We follow Michał Buchowski (2006: 473) in his observation that orientalization from abroad gets its extension in postsocialist Eastern European countries as the “internal orientalisation”. The Easterners compete to prove that they deserve to be regarded as “true” and “authentic” Europeans. In order to reinforce their claims, they need to differentiate from other Easterners who are still in the waiting room to become Europeans. This strategy is visible not only in competition between Eastern nations –in quarrels on who is the last bulwark of European civilization in the East (Žižek 1999) – but also inside nations. Buchowski observes that in postsocialist countries, “internal orientalisation” is possible not only through geographical and spatial divides such as city/countryside or regional core/peripheries but also through temporal/historical constructions which refer to the bad socialist past. The discourse of anti-communism contributes to (self-)orientalization of the Eastern Europeans because these groups that are seen as the remnants of the socialist past are depicted as unable to modernize, uncompetitive, and backward (Moll 2019). Thus, the neoliberal transformation was presented by its advocates as another civilizing project of producing “normal” Europeans in the Eastern outskirts (Buden 2020: 40–41). Its success depended on overcoming the stain of socialism and transforming the old homo sovieticus into the new homo oeconomicus. Those who failed the exam were regarded as “losers” of the transition to normalcy. These abnormal subjects were thus enrolled in the neoliberal “shock therapy” (Klein 2014). The emigration of a superfluous population to the West was a standard procedure to deal with redundant working classes from the advent of capitalism, so it was used once again with the restoration of the system in Eastern Europe. The position of the second pole of the East-South care chain in the discursive construction of Europe is no less intriguing. Similarly, to Easter-ness, Southern-ness
66 Angelina Kussy and Łukasz Moll also often does not meet the criteria of a model Europeanness. We can supplement the analyses of the semi-orientalization of the East with an equally persistent tendency to otherwise the Southerners which manifested itself recently with the discourse on the so-called “PIGS countries”. Southern PIGS (Portugal, Italy, Greece, Spain), soon accompanied by another liminal case (Ireland) to become PIIGS, were depicted by politicians and media as unproductive, lazy, demanding, and irresponsible. These stereotypical and unfair depictions were instrumental to refuse European solidarity to indebted Southern countries, to blame them –and not the politics of the Eurozone –for THEIR debt, and to apply to them painful neoliberal therapy (austerity measures). Once again, as in the case of the East after 1989, asynchronous capitalist development in Europe served as a reason for civilizing the peripheries. In his proposal to deconstruct the European identity as inherently orientalist, Italian thinker Roberto M. Dainotto (2007) exposes similarities between the differential inclusion of both Eastern and Southern (aspiring) Europeans. He claims that Europe has – in fact – not one, but two Orients. The first one was created by orientalists in the Eastern outside: in Asia (Said 2014). The second one is more subtle because it was internalized by Europe. According to Dainotto, every delimitation of the outside contributes to the creation and demonization of “the inner outside” in Europe. The internal Orients in the West, the Souths of the North, inner Africas, and our barbarians in the heart of Europe, the migrant jungles in the midst of civilization, the peripheries weaved in core countries –these and similar constructions are haunting Europe and –in result –they defer its closure and unification (Derrida 1992). They are the symptoms of differential inclusion, and they contribute to unequal labour conditions in Europe. … And the making of the new servant class Both the East and the South of Europe also play an intermediary role in securing differences between Europe and non-Europe which is even more naturalized and racialized. For Easterners and Southerners, second-league Europeanness could not be the main trouble if there are people located even lower on the ladder to being full-fledged European. We adhere here to the view presented by József Böröcz and Mahua Sarkar (2017) that the top of the ladder is occupied by hyperreal and ideological “Whiteness”, understood as the phantasmatic and unattainable standard of Europeanness. The specific content of “Whiteness” is unclear and shifting – it might change according to the need and context. We do not restrict “Whiteness” to white pigmentation of the skin or pseudo-biological concepts of the “White race”. Whiteness is an unstable and contestable discursive outcome of strategies of racialization –the creation of seemingly natural differences between people. While in the context of the United States, care work is racialized more openly (Glenn 2010), then in Europe, we might observe racialization also beyond the black/ white binary, e.g., concerning Muslims, Easterners, or people who are regarded as Romani and travellers (Gonzalez-Sobrino and Ross 2020: 3).
Care Extractivism in Migration Flows 67 Whiteness is a kind of mirror that makes Europe an empty measure of the difference of the Others (Braidotti 2006: 82). For those who feel at the same time so close and so far away to attain their “Whiteness” –as in the case of Easterners and Southerners –it serves as a type of capital to aspire to. The aspiration to “Whiteness/ Europeanness” has its advantage in making it harder for the outsiders to apply with their own demands. But the white subject cannot exist without its shadow –the servant, who will perform the dirty job. The European is universal because he can take every seat; his servant follows him as luggage, waiter, or steward to support his free mobility (Razack 2018: 78). The unpaid or underpaid care work is the condition of the modern Western free subject of Man. According to Sylvia Wynter (2003: 310), the overrepresented European man aspires to the privileged ethno- class that delegates the costs of its reproduction to nature and racialized subjects. While freedom of mobility may be officially celebrated as the founding principle of contemporary Europe, the mobility of subaltern groups is tolerated until it becomes too excessive, untamed, and incorrigible, as in the case of working poor who migrate through Europe and experience their mobility as un/free disposition (Yildriz and De Genova 2019: 10–12). The servant who transgresses his role gets too much freedom of movement as for a proper European –from the perspective of regimes of circulation, he/she becomes an unwelcome “gipsy”. It is important to recognize the specific associations that serve the mechanisms of otherization. We claim that they are overdetermined by more general patterns of accumulation of capital and uneven development. Thus, care should be conceptualized as one among several “cheap things” (Moore and Patel 2017: 111– 137) that capital relegates to its outside to appropriate them as “free gifts of nature”, “generous act of love” or “unpaid reproduction of nature”. Donald A. Clelland (2013) views this mechanism in terms of the extraction of emotional surplus labour in gendered commodity chains. He refers to the concept of “dark value” which is generated at the outskirts of the capital and then appropriated as something which is unregistered and unmeasured: domestic and informal labour –heavily gendered –exists there beside devalued resources from global peripheries and ecological and social externalities (2013: 78–80). As Ehrenreich and Hochschild (2004: 4) commented on the new care economy, in an earlier phase of imperialism, northern countries extracted natural resources and agricultural products –rubber, metals, and sugar, for example –from lands they conquered and colonized. Today, while still relying on third world countries for agricultural and industrial labour, the wealthy countries also seek to extract something harder to measure and quantify, something that can look very much like love. We must identify the Eastern European frontiers of accumulation of emotional surplus-labour, in which the difference of status is created and mobilized with the aim to “discursive deskill” and then exploit female migrants (Guttierez-Rodriguez 2010: 121). Following Williams (2017: 24), we can identify such strategies of
68 Angelina Kussy and Łukasz Moll devaluation of care work as genderization (representing care as feminine and femininity as care, which leads to treating care as the almost natural vocation of women), postcoloniality (reproducing former forms of servitudes in new contexts, as the permanent disposition of people from peripheries) and racialization (regarding “otherised” subjects as servants). According to Helma Lutz (2008: 205–207), various mechanisms of stigmatization are essential to produce class differences and legitimize “new gender order” in Europe. Racialization, feminization, ethnicization, nationalization, sexualization, and criminalization of migrants go hand in hand and the internalization of these discourses by migrant workers serves as the basis for the acceptance of devaluation of their labour. This strategy is effective because it helps to “divide and rule” among migrants from different countries and parts of the world –for example, women from Eastern Europe are regarded as more trustworthy and “clean” than their competitors from the global South (Stefanelli 2016: 76). It is possible because apparent differences and stereotypes become embodied in the essentialist identity of the migrant female worker. It happens not only in the case of objectifying essentialization (e.g., die Putzfrau, or the cleaning lady) but also in a patronizing stance towards “the poor thing” from abroad (Guttierez-Rodriguez 2010: 113). As with the mechanism of “internal orientalisation”, which was discussed above, migrant care workers might not necessarily contest stereotypical and hierarchical divisions among themselves. Instead of adopting more universal class, migrant, or female identities, female care workers are often reluctant to self-identify as exploited precariat or victims of the care crisis –they rather seek to accentuate their dignity, independence, and agency (Christensen and Guldvin 2014: 3), which suits well to postsocialist Eastern European image of hardworking and resourceful women (Amelina 2017: 161). Often, as it was visible in the quotes from the beginning of the chapter, they try to differentiate themselves in a typically postcolonial way, searching for yet a “worst” subject on the colonial imaginary ladder, pointing at the “lazy Gypsies”. It does not mean that migrant care workers are unready or unable to stand for their interests and well-being, but their strategies of everyday resistance are more subtle and performative, i.e., in their attempts to negotiate favourable conditions of division between working time and free time during home-in care (Iecovich 2015: 152). Although the desire not to be seen as belonging to the new class of servants from abroad (Tkach 2014: 134–153) might provoke more subversive attempts of opening the racialized models of being good European citizen to what is alien, unfitting or seemingly contradictory to them (Erel and Reynolds 2019: 56), more compliant and conformist strategies are often the case. The negotiation of status in the European regimes of care takes place in the conditions of heterogeneity. Cultural differences act here as resources in “transnationalization from the bottom up” (Lutz 2011: 23–24), which is far from a universalizing or equalizing process. It rather gives the possibility to distinguish yourself from those who are below you in the stratification of migrant subjectivities. Thus, while it is crucial to grasp a certain autonomy of migrant care workers, we should remain aware that these acts take place in structures that tend to delimit their agency or shape them, to neutralize their more subversive potential (Paul 2017: 50–52).
Care Extractivism in Migration Flows 69 Breaking up the care chains: a messy Europe and care municipalism Opposing the clean and purified concept of Europe, which maintains the ladder of Whiteness and extract the care work from its surroundings, we believe that it is more fruitful to think about the possible alternatives to the current care extractivism, starting with the idea of “messy Europe”, as it was proposed by Loftsdóttir, Smith and Hipfl (2018: 1–30). According to the authors, the closed, essentialist image of Europe creates a false sense of internal stability and transparency and explains the crises that happen in Europe as caused from and by the outside. Backward peripheries, incoming migrants or former colonies are regarded from this perspective as anomalies that disrupt the European state of normalcy. The notion of clean and complete Europe provokes the representation of the Other as a dirty and excessive troublemaker who must be controlled and subjugated (2018: 9). The alternative imaginary of “messy Europe” departs from binary oppositions. Europe is re-staged here not as a reified and unified entity, to which its internal and external Others must aspire, but as the space of antagonisms, of different temporalities that coexist with each other in relation to hierarchy, dependency, neocolonialism, extraction, etc. In “messy Europe”, the postcolonial shadow ceases to be regarded as a strange intruder –it becomes recognized and approved as fully European. And the care responsibilities are no longer regarded as a burden that could be transferred to more vulnerable and exploitable populations. “Messy Europe” is a useful point of departure for our purposes also because it stresses the banal fact that there will always be a mess to clean up in Europe, no matter how “clean” and “civilised” it might be. But as long as some groups of people are regarded as “dirtier” than others, the reproductive work will be naturalized as their “dirty work”. In the case of female care work, such a strategy is based on the identification of “dirty work” with “women’s work” (Rodriquez 2014: 14). In effect, in the “clean Europe” (dirty) care work is delegated to cleaning ladies –in a large part, to robust and exploitable migrant women (Gottfried 2013: 205). “Messy Europe”, on the other hand, would reject such externalization of care and seek for communal and solidarity strategies to deal with the mess we are in. In conclusion, we want to ask about the possibility of unleashing the subversive potential of the caring class and contesting transnational regimes of rights and status in care work. We bind our hopes with alternatives developed by contemporary social movements: care commoning and care municipalism (Dowling 2018; Zechner 2021). We adhere to the decolonial approach put forward by Guttierez- Rodriguez (2010: 157–168) that instead of securing the rights of the white, Western, male, middle-class, strong, and healthy individual –by organizing care work around his needs and interests –we need to focus on the generalized state of precarity and care crisis of global population. Hence, it is not enough to demand better working conditions for care workers or regularization and professionalization of their jobs. These aims are important to reduce exploitation and organize care workers, but they are not enough to re-shape transnational regimes and processes of extraction of care. We agree with Guttierez-Rodriguez that feminized care work must be decolonized and denaturalized.
70 Angelina Kussy and Łukasz Moll We are interested in how the Left from Southern and Eastern European countries could join forces to address the issue of the care crisis. It seems obvious that no national strategy will suffice in that regard: the problem must be dealt with on both sides of care corridors. Higher wages, labour rights and workers’ representation might improve the conditions of care workers in one country or another, but it will not change the colonial drainage of care. Without new ways of organizing collective care in the community –or care commoning (Barbagallo, Beuret and Harvie 2019) – more affluent European countries will still rely on the imported migrant workforce, while European peripheries would seek to respond to the care crisis by immigration from outside of Europe. The alternative for a transnational vacuum for care work is much needed. We claim that the Eastern European Left should seriously embrace the growing exodus from its countries of cheap labour to the Western and Southwestern European countries. This could be done by joining the Global South in developing different epistemologies and practices than those represented by the Occidental world (de Sousa Santos 2015; Karkov and Valiavicharska 2018). In the realm of care, it would be a project of “putting life in the centre” and “people over profits” through the plan of democratization of care, its re-commoning and grounding in the locality. In that regard, the European Left could enter into dialogue with the municipalist movement of progressive cities and for building a “care economy”. These movements found their momentum in Southern European countries in times of austerity crisis to find alternatives for overcoming the systematic devaluation of care in patriarchal societies (Kussy et al., forthcoming), recognizing it as a valuable social contribution –not only a prerequisite for productive processes but constitutive for any social relations and bonds (Thelen 2015). The Eastern-Southern dialogue on care, that we advocate here, should not be regarded as unilateral. What we need is not “one-size-fits-all” solutions. But care commoning, which found its fertile ground under new municipalism advocated by social movements in Spain, seems to us quite immune to the risk of simple transfer from one context to the other. It is because care commoning, as was demonstrated in the study by Manuela Zechner (2021: 158), is the set of open, reflective, and emergent practices of care that is developed according to the needs of its participants. And the needs are positioned here in a relational and interdependent way –instead of extraction of care from vulnerable groups, the collectives try to realize their embodied and situated condition in order to respond to it with the communal organization of care. We believe that the projects of care commoning and new municipalism should be attentive to the relations of care in which migrant care workers remain involved. It means that what these projects need is transnationalization of their gaze to the outside –beyond the city gates and towards newcomers, what Stavros Stavrides (2016: 41–44) calls “expanding commoning”. Expanding the scope of “mobility justice” (Sheller 2018) of municipal commons in the South would have its important consequences also for Eastern Europe and other regions that suffer from care extractivism. As for now, care responsibilities and chains are already transnational, and the most political strategies of the Left
Care Extractivism in Migration Flows 71 remain attached to the perspective of the nation-state. It makes the European Left unable to respond to the existing reproductive sphere and regimes of care. The transnationalization of strategy towards postcolonial breaking the (care) chains, could dynamize the circulation of feminist struggles, ideas, and inspirations, expanding the definition of reproductive rights beyond the issues of abortion and contraception. We share the view that it is the collective dimension of the care provision which represents a potential for transformation of the current social reproductive regime and that looking for the alternatives to the current care extractivism, we too often focus on the states, market, and family (Vega Solís et al. 2018). Applying the paradigm of the commons to the realm of care provision, both supported from the progressive re-municipalization of basic care infrastructures and services and implementing public policies towards more local and rooted in the neighbourhood care provision, as well as bottom-up civil societies’ initiatives, has the chance of envisioning an alternative care provision model. Commoning could be understood as a strategy against enclosures and privatizations, and a more radical way of dealing with the injustices related to the care crisis: by breaking up the “care chains”. Acknowledgements Work on this publication was realized within the research projects “Idea Europy w kontekście kryzysu migracyjnego” (Idea of Europe in the context of the migratory crisis, 2018/29/N/HS1/00853), financed by the Polish National Science Centre (NCN). Notes 1 Spanish Statistical Office –INE. 2 https://ec.europa.eu/social/main.jsp?catId=89&furtherNews=yes&langId=en&newsId= 10037.
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4 Postsocialist Migration from North Macedonia The Case of “Work and Travel” Students in the USA. Is the American Dream Still Alive? Irena Avirovic Bundalevska Introduction Even though the process of decolonization in the world happened during the 20th century, the major world powers have not changed considerably in the period that followed, and former imperial powers continue to dominate ex-colonies and countries in a less direct way. Today, the division of people on racial and ethnic grounds or more precisely, the division between Western and non-Western countries and cultures is even more highlighted with the increased mobility of population and wide-ranging world immigration. One of the greatest imperial powers that has dominated the world in the 20th and 21st centuries is the USA, a country that has constructed its identity on the concepts of freedom, liberal democracy, capitalism, a nation of immigrants, a nation of mixed cultures, traditions, and histories, a “Melting pot”. On the opposite sight, there is the Republic of North Macedonia, a small postsocialist landlocked country in the Western We Balkans, facing a three-decade period of economic and political transition which has resulted in a high level of unemployment, an armed conflict, permanent political instability, and general distrust in institutions, the judicial system, etc. One of the consequences of the general instability of the country is the high emigration rate of its citizens, resulting in depopulation of rural areas and continuous brain drain of highly skilled workers (Bundalevska and Elezi 2021). The emigration of the population from North Macedonia due to economic and political reasons is not a new phenomenon, on the contrary, North Macedonia is historically a migratory country. Since the period of the Ottoman Empire, Macedonian migrant workers moved to major cities in the region for temporary work. Later, in the period between the two world wars, migrant labour shifted to permanent emigration, especially to overseas countries (USA, Australia, and Canada). During the Yugoslav period, however, Macedonian emigrants replaced labour migration with temporary work (gastarbeiter) in Western European countries. Finally, since the independence of the Republic of Macedonia in 1991 until today, traditional overseas emigration continued, in addition to the increasing trend of temporary and permanent migration to the European Union countries (Avirovic 2012; Чепреганов 2010; Николовски-Катин 2002). Furthermore, it is important DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-7
Postsocialist Migration from North Macedonia 77 to underline that after the dissolution of Yugoslavia, Macedonian citizens could only travel to a limited number of countries. Specifically, the EU imposed a visa regime that lasted until 2010 and overseas migration is controlled additionally by destination countries with rigid quota systems and visa regulations, for instance, the Green card lottery in the USA. Despite all restrictions, temporary and permanent migration from North Macedonia continued, and illegal migration flourished. Young generations were impacted explicitly by these general restrictions and turned to alternative means to travel. Schooling abroad, summer courses, student exchange programs, and other similar curricula seemed the perfect fit for a legal way to obtain a regular visa, to be able to travel, and in some cases, people used these programs as a possibility to migrate abroad permanently. European programs have always been popular among Macedonian youth; however, they seem moderately easily accessible, especially after the new visa-free regime was implemented. On the contrary, American programs remained very attractive and a greater challenge for students and youth in general. In this chapter, I will analyze the Work and Travel USA programme as one of the most popular programs chosen by Macedonian students to travel abroad. In the following section, I will present the results of a qualitative research conducted in North Macedonia during 2021 on 20 participants focused on the process of application to the programme, the experience of the participants in the USA, their overall opinion on the programme, as well as their reflections on American society and the concept of the American dream. The purpose of the study is to evaluate the benefits of the Work and Travel USA programme, the impact it had on participants on a personal and professional level, and to explore a possible politicization of the programme. The programme Work and Travel USA and the experience of Macedonian students Work and Travel USA is a cultural exchange programme that aims to enable students to work in the USA during their summer vacation. The duration of the programme is up to four months (in the period from 15 May to 30 September) and enables students to get insight into the American way of life, customs, and culture while simultaneously working and earning money (State.gov 2021; Kontext.mk 2021). The programme has several eligibility criteria including holding a full-time student status, being from 18 to 26 years old, having a good conversational knowledge of English language and possessing a minimum 800 to 1000 USD pocket money upon the arrival in the USA (State.gov 2021; Kontext.mk 2021). The programme is available for students from their 1st to 4th year of studies, however, in North Macedonia, it is mostly popular among students in their last year of study possibly due to their higher level of maturity and possibility to extend student life once it is approaching its end. When deciding which research method was the most adequate for the study, I opted for the qualitative method and the analyses of non-numerical data mainly due to several reasons. Firstly, this method allows one to better understand concepts,
78 Irena Avirovic Bundalevska and in this case, my focus was on the perception of the idea of the American dream by Macedonian students. Secondly, qualitative research permits the analysis of opinions and experiences, thus consenting to analyze in depth the experiences of the participants in the Work and Travel USA programme, American lifestyle, their opinion on American society, etc. More specifically, I wanted to evaluate in which way the experience and perception of this programme shaped its participants on a personal and professional level. Finally, I preferred narrative research in order to see how their stories are told and possibly understand the impact of their experience. The data collection method of this study included two mix methods: in-depth interviews with the participants, which due to the pandemic of COVID-19 were mostly conducted by phone and surveys, distributing questionnaires with open- ended questions if participants were unavailable for interviews. Additionally, in the initial phase of research, I was able to conduct pre-interviews with some participants, which allowed me to better shape the questionnaire and the structured interviews. Besides the general information sections, the questionnaire consists of three main topics with sub-questions with the possibility of open-ended answers. The research on the experience of 20 Macedonian students who attended the Work and Travel USA programme was conducted between July and December 2021, mainly in the capital Skopje, where the majority of respondents currently live and originate from. However, a smaller number of participants come from other cities in North Macedonia: Bitola, Prilep, Strumica, Shtip, Kochani, and Vinica. All students were born in the 1990s, more precisely between 1990 and 1999. The majority of them had already graduated when the interviews were conducted or were in the last year of their studies. All respondents are unmarried and live in families of two to five members, in middle-income households. The participants attended the Work and Travel USA programme between 2011 and 2019. Two of them have attended the programme twice and two students did not return back to North Macedonia after finishing the programme, more precisely, one managed to get his visa extended and stayed more than the duration of the programme and the other is currently living in the USA. The gender division of the respondents is as follows: twelve female versus eight male participants. After organizing and exploring my data, I identified some recurring themes and topics, and I opted for thematic analyses in order to interpret and identify such patterns and themes: (a) details about the Work and Travel USA programme and its application process, (b) experience of the participants in the USA, and (c) evaluation of the programme and its impact. Besides my observations and data interpretation, I also applied textual and discourse analyses to better examine the content, structure, and language used in participants’ discourses. All citations from the interviews are original and are translated from Macedonian to English language by the author. The first set of questions concerns the Work and Travel USA programme and the process of application. In this part, the participants were asked to explain how they learned about the existence of the programme and the reasons that prompted them to apply for it, and to describe the process of application in detail. It is well-known that the best marketing in North Macedonia is still word-of-mouth advertising. Thus,
Postsocialist Migration from North Macedonia 79 it is not surprising that the Work and Travel programme is mostly disseminated among friends and acquaintances, although agencies are actively advertising the programme through social media platforms, leaflets, and flyers. This was the case with most participants of my study, who stated that they have learned about the existence of such a programme through friends or family members who had already experienced the programme firsthand or had knowledge about it. According to recent studies regarding contemporary migration and mobility from North Macedonia (Ivanov and Bundalevska 2020), economic factors remain the main reason of migration from the country, followed by political and social instability, schooling abroad, lack of perspective in the homeland, etc. The need for adventure is a more individual reason for migration, both permanent and temporary, and it is probably a universal phenomenon concerning youth (Amit 2011; Heckert 2015), best applied in the case of the Work and Travel student mobility programme combined with the financial gain the programme offers. As the main reasons for adhering to the programme indicated by my respondents were: the possibility to travel and live through new experiences and adventure, meeting new people, improve English language skills, the opportunity to live the American dream, explore the USA and their culture while being able, simultaneously, to work, seek independence and acquire certain financial gain. As far as the application process is concerned, it is preceded by an English language test upon which students sign an agreement with the agency that acts as an intermediary between the programme and the students. During the application process, students are required to submit general documents that include a valid passport, proof of students’ status, CV, and motivation letter, etc. The agencies work as well as intermediators for the American visa application and support the applicants in the process. Most applicants from my study used the Macedonian intermediator agencies “Kontext” and “Intrax” to apply for the Work and Travel programme and the American visa. Other Macedonian agencies that intermediate the process and offer this and other similar programs within Europe are: “Zip Travel Macedonia”, “Kouzon”, “Narom Travel” and “Viking”. The process of application has several steps which could be summarized as follows: (a) information about the program, (b) payment, (c) job interview, (d) visa interview, (e) final documentation, and (f) travel. By many respondents, the process of application was qualified as fast and easy and rarely described as long and time consuming. In general, it lasts up to several months and requires documents and certificates from the faculty, specific formulars, photos, visa documentation, etc. However, although it requires attention, the agencies lead and coordinate the entire process of application and administrative tasks (Kontext.mk 2021; Naromtravel.com.mk 2021; Kouzon.com.mk 2021). Usually, the agency suggests which city or state to travel to in accordance with the choice of work position. Otherwise, if a bigger group of students is applying together, they might prefer a shared destination. Some respondents choose the destination regarding their lifestyle: some prefer big cities and famous tourist places near the ocean or by the beach; others favour nature and peace, choosing smaller towns where they could focus on work and party less. As one female respondent
80 Irena Avirovic Bundalevska from Skopje stated: “My wish was to see the Aurora Borealis, and I wanted to stay in peaceful mountainous places therefore I choose Alaska as my destination and I am very glad I did”. The most popular destinations according to Dobrinka Demjanski, responsible for the implementation of programs at the Kontext agency, are big cities such as New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles as a result of the influence of media and American films (Avirovic Bundalevska 2021, personal communication, 3 December). However, as they get to know the programme better according to the suggestions and guidance of the intermediator agencies, they are advised to choose tourist places and cities suitable for summer work. Finally, late applications mean fewer choices, and some respondents had to travel to destinations they did not plan to or dream of. While being on the Work and Travel cultural exchange programme, students gain the status of temporary employed persons in the USA with an average of 32 working hours per week. Students can apply to a variety of jobs which are mostly of seasonal character due to their temporary residence in the summer period. Students usually work in restaurants, hotels, amusement parks, campgrounds, or stores, holding the position of food server, host or hostess, pool attendant, sales assistant in stores, receptionist, etc. These job positions are paid between 7 and 10 USD per hour and different levels of English language might be required for each of them (State.gov 2021). If we calculate that those who attended the programme earned approximately 8.5 USD per hour or roughly 1400 USD per month (8 working hours, 5 days a week), they could earn almost triple the average wage (circa 545 USD) in North Macedonia calculated in December 2021 (Државен завод за статистика на РСМ 2022). Additionally, most respondents had a second or even third job and worked more than five days a week, thus earning up to four times the average Macedonian salary per month. Most of the respondents chose the job position according to its remuneration and previous work experience; however, some students preferred to work with clients in order to practise the English language more actively. This outcome was confirmed by Dobrinka Demjanski, from the Kontext agency, who underlined that “all job positions from the service sector are an interesting experience for the students; however, certain positions such as waiters, bartenders, assistant waiters are most required since are paid with tips but require at the same time experience and should be supplemented with students’ CV” (Avirovic Bundalevska 2021, personal communication, 1 December). Less attractive positions among Macedonian applicants resulted in those of housekeeping, cleaning positions and kitchen help. In this context, a female respondent from Skopje stated “I opted for the job position of food server because it offered the highest salary and although it was physically intense, I was determined to succeed”. Finally, the programme allows the participants to find a second or third job, so that all students gain experience in more than one position and have the possibility for a greater financial gain. The second part of my research regards the general experience of the participants in the USA. The first question concerns the reasons this programme was chosen by the participants over other similar programs offered by the agencies across Europe. As expected, most of the applicants considered that an overseas destination was
Postsocialist Migration from North Macedonia 81 more challenging than nearby European countries. Overseas countries (USA, Canada, and Australia) have been traditional destination countries for Macedonian migrants, while West European countries took their primate only in the last two decades (Avirovic 2010: 57–58). Furthermore, some of the students had already attended similar programs in Europe and preferred to live a new experience. The whole experience in the USA itself was indicated by one female student from Skopje as “an educational journey far from family and close friends, where one can relearn one’s own personality, experience self-affirmation, move personal physical limits by working more than one job and improve personal mental health as well”. Some answers suggested a connection with the perception of the USA as a country of opportunities which a male respondent from Skopje summarized as “being able to live firsthand everything I had seen in movies”. The responses to the previous question led, as expected, to the discussion of the perception of the American dream by Macedonian students participating in the Work and Travel USA programme. Their general perception of the American dream is rather positive and reflects the universal definition of this concept. To paraphrase Robert Wuthnow (1996), the American dream is the opportunity to work a relatively high-paying and possibly rewarding job, while living in the suburbs and creating opportunities for family and children. The dissemination of the American dream followed the evolution of society and technology and while in the beginning (the concept was coined in 1931 by historian James Truslow Adamas), it was a notion transmitted from the experience of people to the others, in the past decades it gained major representation in television media and the film industry. The spreading of this positivistic concept to the whole world made generations dream of a better life, freedom of choice, and opportunities in a country called the USA. Furthermore, the idea of the American dream has evolved from its fundamentals related to work, financial gain, and consumerism and sheds light on other important insights such as work–life balance (Wuthnow 1996), the racial dimension, and the whiteness of the American dream (Madriaga 2005; Alba 2006). However, due to limitations in time and space and in accordance with our research topic, this chapter will only consider the basic definition of the American dream as pursuit for better life and opportunities. In this regard, the respondents were asked to reflect on this concept, to define it, and to answer whether they believe in it. The majority of the students were already familiar with the concept and usually defined it in a positive connotation linked to successful living achieved through hard work in a merit-based society. However, some respondents specified that the period spent in the USA during the Work and Travel programme did not allow them to experience it appropriately or let them understand just a glimpse of it. Some respondents had a rather realistic approach to this idea and pointed out that the reality of the American dream and its perception, as seen in the movies, were two totally different concepts. As a female respondent from Skopje stated “I do not believe that the United States of America have a magic formula for this. I believe that every person can achieve their own dream vision if they work and try hard, independently from the place they are living in”. Furthermore, some respondents had a rather negative attitude towards this concept, defining it an “illusion” or “meaningless” for those who are
82 Irena Avirovic Bundalevska not American citizens. There were also some respondents that had no knowledge of the meaning of the American dream or did not want to express their opinion. However, the concept of the American dream is also an idea that resembles American society and its values. It symbolizes the importance of the American flag, and it compounds the uniformity of American life, which has expanded worldwide as a result of the globalization of the past decades (Young 2001: 60). In this context, a similar opinion was given on their perception of American society prior to the departure to the Work and Travel programme. Mainly, respondents had big expectations and perceived American society as a friendly and open-minded environment in regard to its people, a place of differences, where motivated and positive people live. Some respondents expected a different lifestyle from the European one, others, instead, expected a similar lifestyle with Western European countries. Moreover, many of them expected to see life as pictured in movies and media, especially its positive sides only, for instance, developed infrastructure, big and developed cities, living a fast life, earning high salaries, and enjoying life. However, many respondents were surprised by some facts they did not expect to face. For instance, some indicated the American bureaucratic system being as unorganized as the Macedonian one and were surprised by the general insecurity on the streets, visible poverty, and hunger. Nevertheless, these general views and perceptions differ from city to city, from state to state, thus are a stereotypical or biased representation. In this regard, a more deep and detailed analysis would be needed to give general conclusion on this matter. The respondents were asked for a second time to reflect on their perception of American society and whether it changed after their experience in the USA. Many students expressed the same positive impression they had prior to their departure. They stressed that as its denomination “Melting pot” suggests, American society is a great fusion of cultures, mentalities, and customs. In addition, some respondents indicated better rights and laws that ensure an easier general societal functioning. However, they were aware of the fact that it is impossible or rather difficult to have a generalized opinion on the country and its society exactly due to its mixed cultures. On the one hand, there are many educated people who are open-minded; on the other hand, there are people who are stereotypical and racist towards foreigners. Some respondents indicated to have changed considerably their opinion on the USA and American society. In this context, they either idolized the USA or did not expect to face some realities which are not that visible or present in Macedonian society, such as many homeless people and evident class divisions in the society. As a male respondent from Vinica stated “my idea of America was completely different. I agree that it is a country where you can find a job and earn money easily. However, in my opinion, it is also a country where family and family values are underestimated, a country with too many fake smiles and class differences”. Furthermore, this reality influenced their stereotypical opinion that American society is somewhat discriminatory and that most people living there are obsessed with work and earning money, while free time is generally underrated. Additionally, they said that in substance, American society does not differ much from other countries they have visited, including their homeland North Macedonia.
Postsocialist Migration from North Macedonia 83 Due to these diverse experiences, many respondents expressed their will to return to the USA as tourists, but the majority would not migrate there permanently. Besides travel, some respondents would return to gain more professional knowledge and experience. Few respondents would like to live there and one student who did not return to North Macedonia after the termination of the Work and Travel programme stated that “I wish I never had to leave this country”. The third and last section of the research is focused on the evaluation of the programme and it consists of another subsection that is specifically for those students who did not return to North Macedonia after completing the programme. However, this subsection was disregarded in the presentation of the results in this study partly due to lack of relevance to the main topic and the underrepresentation of this category of respondents. One of the prerequisites for the Work and Travel USA programme is a good conversational knowledge of the English language. In this regard, I asked the respondents to self-evaluate their level of English language knowledge prior to their departure to the USA and the improvements achieved during the programme. Most respondents rated their language knowledge as very good, or good enough or even excellent. Some of them stated that their knowledge was even better than they expected it to be. As expected, active usage of the language and natural interaction with native speakers (Pica 1983; Collentine and Freed 2004) during the four months programme contributed to the general improvement of Macedonian students’ language skills, including higher level of conversational English language, gaining a better accent and vocabulary as well as confidence while speaking. The overall perception of the Work and Travel USA programme is positive. In general, respondents are considered to have been prepared by the Macedonian agencies for the outcomes of the programme including travel, work, accommodation, and life in the USA. The majority of respondents stated to have been in contact with their agency during their stay in the USA and received help and support in unexpected situations like bad weather conditions, problems, and changes regarding their job position or accommodation. In this regard, all experiences are individual and depend on many factors. For instance, some students decided deliberately to change their initial destination without informing the agency, two students overstayed in the USA and did not return to Macedonia in the expected time or at all. Some respondents did not face any particular issues that could have prompted them to contact the agency. In general, everybody rated the programme as safe though the majority of students consider that a certain level of personal maturity and knowledge of general safety concerns as a tourist, as well as respecting local laws and rules is essential for a positive experience. This was confirmed by an anonymous employee from a Macedonian intermediator agency who stated that besides the visa being the major concern prior to the departure of the students, the initial cultural shock experienced by the students represents the main distress of the students upon their arrival (Avirovic Bundalevska 2021, personal communication, 20 November). This is linked to their unrealistic expectations or possible labour inexperience and is sometimes reflected in interpersonal relations with roommates or problems with working hours or superiors at work.
84 Irena Avirovic Bundalevska However, the programme is not only dedicated to work and travel, as its name suggests. It is very important for the experience itself: meeting new people from different backgrounds and cultures, making new friendships, and learning important elementary life skills, including cooking, cleaning, and maintaining a household, especially for those students who prior to the programme have not experienced independent living. The respondents confirmed the above-mentioned skills as part of their overall experience with the Work and Travel programme and other important benefits from the programme, such as the improved level of English language and even learning the basic level of other foreign languages. Moreover, they reflected on other personal aspects from their experience which brought value to their life: learning how to manage personal finances and other administrative tasks, as well as learning to know oneself better and sometimes in a completely new light. Accordingly, as put in the words of a female respondent from Skopje: “even negative experiences were important experiences”. Finally, respondents have stated to have become better persons, more independent, responsible, serious, and confident. They consider that this experience has positively influenced their personal growth towards adulthood. In conclusion, the majority of respondents had a rather positive opinion of the programme, evaluated it with high marks and would recommend it to their friends and peers. The negative aspects that were highlighted by the students regarded not having enough time to travel or not being paid enough for American standards. Especially in regard to the financial remuneration, the respondents were quite divided. Some individuals were more satisfied with their job positions and salaries, while others were considered to have been underpaid, and thus forced to work on more than one job. Some students’ perception is that American employees use the programme to have access to low-paid workers. Nevertheless, all experiences are linked to personal expectations and intentions. In this context, a female respondent from Skopje explained: “Negative experiences might be experienced by those who applied to the program for a wrong reason: to solely earn money, equate the program with a relaxed holiday or even misuse the program to obtain a visa to migrate permanently to the USA”. Besides official political propaganda, some authors consider that the USA after the Second World War has created cultural and study programs that could possibly influence its participants’ opinions, have ulterior motives or even hidden agendas. In this context, Fulbright, one of the most famous American international programs, has been criticized to promote “national globalism” and to have certain historical and institutional relationships to the propaganda of the US government (Lebovic 2013: 281–283). Based on this, I wanted to explore whether the participants of the Work and Travel USA programme shared this opinion to a certain degree. The outcome was that none of the respondents of this research considers that the Work and Travel USA programme has circumstantial intentions other than cultural exchange and the possibility to visit and learn about American society. In fact, increased knowledge about the USA is indeed one of the main “exports” of the American educational and cultural exchange programme (Canter 1969: 87).
Postsocialist Migration from North Macedonia 85 After the working part programme competition, students have approximately one month left to travel within the USA. Naturally, their travel destinations depend on the state they were initially located in. However, big and popular cities remain the favourite travel sites of Macedonian students, such as Miami, Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Washington, Chicago, and Las Vegas. New York City is the absolute champion destination. Dobrinka Demjanski, a person responsible for implementing programs at the Kontext agency, informed me that some students choose to overstay in the USA. She explained that the agency is obliged to send a list of all students who returned or remained in the USA to the US Embassy in Skopje every year. Those who decide to overstay regulate their status in different ways. They have the opportunity to extend their tourist visa for 6 months, which, however, is not allowed by the US embassy and the programme regulations. Besides this semi-legal possibility, students have tried to stay permanently in the USA by other means, for instance, by getting married to an American citizen. In this regard, she indicated that what exceeds the framework of the programme is not in competence with the agency. She stated that agencies always explain to the students the rules of the programme explicitly and the limitations of their visa type J1 issued by the US Embassy, which requires them to return to North Macedonia upon the termination of the programme. In case their plans are different, they are advised to return legitimately to North Macedonia and submit a new visa application (Avirovic Bundalevska 2021, personal communication, 3 December). The general outcome of my research is focused on the topics covered by the interviews, namely, the general positive experience and the evaluation of the Work and Travel USA programme by its participants, their divided perception of American society and reflections on the concept of the American dream as well as their personal evaluation of the overall experience. The Work and Travel USA programme was evaluated as professional, safe, and without any hidden agenda. Major benefits from attending this programme were identified as: (a) improved language skills, (b) positive professional experience and development of work ethics, and (c) possibility of personal growth. In regard to the main topic of the research, namely the perception of the concept of the American dream and American society, a general conclusion could not be drawn, mainly due to the rather diverse individual experiences of the interviews as well as the relatively small sample of the study which could lead to a stereotypical and generalized view on the matter. The flexibility of the qualitative analysis method enabled us to uncover some novel issues during the study and adapt the newly emerged ideas which were not decided beforehand. Within this framework, I started my research in July 2021 with a flexible approach, conducting open-ended conversations with several students whom I knew had been to the Work and Travel USA programme. After these initial nonstructured interviews, I was able to create a more specific questionnaire that served both the in-person interviews and the surveys. Moreover, after collecting all data, I was able to reach again the participants for several questions that emerged after the preliminary data analyses and appeared to be important themes for the
86 Irena Avirovic Bundalevska study. In this context, I initially did not plan to focus on the application process of the programme, nevertheless, as I started conducting the interviews, I understood that the job position and city selected in the agency would later influence significantly the experience of the applicants. Namely, those groups of students that applied to work in the same city, had the possibility to travel together, form a mini-community or even live together during the programme, thus supporting each other during difficult times. On the contrary, those students who decided to apply to remote and less attractive places, had a more international experience as well as the possibility for a more individual personal growth. In regard to the disadvantages of the qualitative method which was applied to this study, I would consider the small sample of 20 respondents which might be biased and/or unrepresentative of the wider population and the generally perceived subjectivity in data interpretation within this research method. Another disadvantage of the study is possibly the sample itself. In fact, as the results of this study suggest, the American dream cannot be experienced appropriately in such a short period of time that is offered by the programme. As a result, similar further research could be conducted on Macedonian citizens who have permanently migrated to the USA in order to better understand in which way they would perceive and define this concept. Finally, there is a topic that was initially intended to be covered by this study, but did not emerge clearly in the outcome of the interviews. There was a hypothesis that the professional experience gained through the Work and Travel USA programme shaped the future professional life of students. However, the participants of the study did not confirm explicitly in which way their experience in the USA contributed to a better professional position in the homeland, thus this subject was disregarded in the data analyses. Discussion and conclusion This chapter presented the outcomes of qualitative research of the programme Work and Travel USA and the experience of Macedonian students who attended this programme during the last decade. It examined in detail the process of application to the programme, the personal and professional experience of the students in the USA during the duration of the programme, as well as their personal evaluation of the programme. The study confirmed three main benefits of the Work and Travel programme taken as a model of student exchange programme (Messer and Wolter 2007; Canter 1969) as recognized by the respondents included in this research: (a) improved language skills, (b) positive professional experience and development of work ethics, and (c) possibility of personal growth. Besides participants’ personal experiences, my study was to a greater extent focused on the perception of the American dream of Macedonian students and temporary migrants to the USA. This concept exists almost 100 years and is simplistically defined as the pursuit and the possibility of a highly-paid job and successful life in a free society. As explained in the chapter, the concept of the American
Postsocialist Migration from North Macedonia 87 dream has evolved and changed over time, hence its definition has today a broader and more compound meaning. My starting position and main hypothesis was that one of the main pull factors that influenced Macedonian students to apply to the Work and Travel USA programme was the possibility to experience personally the positivistic image of the American lifestyle as presented through the contemporary globalized media and film industry. This assumption was partially confirmed by the participants of the study, however, many respondents had also realistic views on American lifestyle and society, especially after being able to live there firsthand. Even though the research showed that many students who attended the Work and Travel programme believe to a certain extent in the concept of the American dream in its simplistic definition, their opinion was also shaped by personal experiences and practices, usually defined by the places they have visited and people they have met. In this context, I would also point out once more the limitation of the study, in terms of the research sample, both in regard to the number of participants and the choice of temporary migrants instead of permanent ones. What is clear from the study is the quality of the experience that the Work and Travel USA programme offers to its participants. Many students who have participated in the programme, have decided to do it a second time or expressed their willingness to repeat it in the future. The respondents evaluated the programme in a positive connotation and no particular remarks surfaced from this study. In this regard, the agencies that act as intermediators in North Macedonia were praised by the students in terms of their organizational skills as well as support during their stay in the USA. Yet, in this relatively small sample of 20 respondents, there were two participants who decided to overstay in the USA after the termination of the programme, hence “abusing” the exchange programme to gain American visa regularly and being able to migrate there permanently. Besides my efforts to reach more students who did not return regularly to North Macedonia after the Work and Travel programme ended, I faced their indisposition to be interviewed due to their current irregular citizenship status in the USA and the fear of being exposed. Consequently, in this study, the stories of these two students were disregarded in the presentation of the results partly due to lack of relevance to the main topic and the underrepresentation of this category of respondents. Finally, this study was unable to discover or demonstrate whether the Work and Travel USA exchange programme has a possible ulterior motive other than offering cultural exchange to foreign students as well as the possibility to travel and work in the USA, and learn about American lifestyle and society. None of the respondents indicated a possible politicization of the programme nor felt to be mistreated in some way. The only negative observation from the Work and Travel USA programme that emerged from this study was students’ perception of being relatively underpaid, thus indicating the programme as a possible source of poorly paid workers for American companies. Nevertheless, to confirm the general outcomes of the study as well as analyze in-depth novel issues that have emerged from it, the research should be further developed and a bigger sample of students should be considered.
88 Irena Avirovic Bundalevska References Alba, R. (2006) “Mexican Americans and the American Dream” Perspectives on Politics, vol. 4, no. 2, [American Political Science Association, Cambridge University Press], pp. 289–96. Available at: www.jstor.org/stable/3688267. (Accessed: 12 August 2021). Amit, V. (2011) “‘Before I Settle Down’: Youth Travel and Enduring Life Course Paradigms” Anthropologica, vol. 53, no. 1, Canadian Anthropology Society, pp. 79–88. Available at: www.jstor.org/stable/41475731. (Accessed: 12 August 2021). Avirovic, I. (2010). Patterns of Migration –Patterns of Segregation? A Macedonian Micro- study, Saarbrüken: VDM Verlag Dr. Müller. Avirovic, I. (2012) “Macedonian Post-Socialist Migration”, Der Donauraum: Zeitschrift des Institutes für den Donauraum und Mitteleuropa (IDM), 52. Jahrgang, 3-4/2012, Vienna, pp. 465–481. Avirovic Bundalevska, I. and Elezi, E. (2021) “Migrant Families from Western Macedonia”, Proceedings of the International Scientific Conference “Social Changes in the Global World”, 2(8), pp. 425–444. doi: 10.46763/SCGW212425ab. Canter, J. (1969) “Our Cultural ‘Exports’: A View of the United States Exchange Program”, The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, vol. 384, [Sage Publications, Inc., American Academy of Political and Social Science], pp. 85– 95. Available at: www.jstor.org/stable/1037291. (Accessed: 15 September 2021). Collentine, J., Freed. B.F. (2004) “Learning Context and Its Effects on Second Language Acquisition: Introduction”, Studies in Second Language Acquisition, vol. 26, no. 2, Cambridge University Press, pp. 153–71. Available at: www.jstor.org/stable/44486767. (Accessed: 15 September 2021). Државен завод за статистика на РСМ (2022). Соопштение од областа: Пазар на трудПросечна месечна исплатена нето-плата по вработен, декември 2021 година, 22 февруари 2022. Available at: www.stat.gov.mk/PrikaziSoopstenie.aspx?id=40&rbr= 13891 (Accessed: 25 February 2022). Heckert, J. (2015) “New Perspective on Youth Migration: Motives and Family Investment”, Demographic Research, vol. 33, Max- Planck- Gesellschaft zur Foerderung der Wissenschaften, pp. 765–800. Available at: www.jstor.org/stable/26332004. (Accessed: 25 February 2022). Ivanov, M. and Avirovic Bundalevska, I. (2020) “Challenges of Migrant Families from Eastern Macedonia”, Proceedings of the International Scientific Conference “Social Changes in the Global World”, 2(7), pp. 643–663. doi: 10.46763/SCGW207-20643i. Kontext.mk (2021) Work and Travel USA. Available at: https://kontext.mk/?page_id= 517&lang=en (Accessed: 20 June 2021) Kouzon.mk (2021) Work & Travel. Available at: www.kouzon.mk/work-travel-2/ (Accessed: 20 June 2021). Lebovic, S. (2013) “From War Junk to Educational Exchange: The World War II Origins of the Fulbright Program and the Foundations of American Cultural Globalism, 1945-1950”, Diplomatic History, vol. 37, no. 2, Oxford University Press, pp. 280–312. Available at: www.jstor.org/stable/44254519. (Accessed: 20 June 2021). Madriaga, M. (2005) “Understanding the Symbolic Idea of the American Dream and Its Relationship with the Category ‘Whiteness’ ”, by Sheffield Hallam University Sociological Research Online, Volume 10, Issue 3, Published: 30 Sep 2005. Messer, D., Wolter, S.C. (2007) “Are Student Exchange Program Worth It?” Higher Education, vol. 54, no. 5, Springer, pp. 647–63. Available at: www.jstor.org/stable/29735 140. (Accessed: 20 June 2021).
Postsocialist Migration from North Macedonia 89 Naromtravel.com.mk (2021) Work and Travel USA. Available at: www.naromtravel.com. mk/worktravel-usa/ (Accessed: 20 June 2021). Николовски-Катин, С. (2002) МАКЕДОНЦИТЕ ВО САД И КАНАДА. Скопје: Македонска Искра. Pica, T. (1983) “The Role of Language Context in Second Language Acquisition”, Interlanguage Studies Bulletin, vol. 7, no. 1, Sage Publications, Ltd., pp. 101–123. Available at: www.jstor.org/stable/43136020. (Accessed: 15 September 2021). Robert J.C. Young (2001). Postcolonialism. A Very Short Introduction. United Kingdom: Blackwell Publishing. State.gov (2021) Exchange programs. Available at: http://exchanges.state.gov/education/jex changes/ (Accessed: 12 August 2021) Wuthnow, R. (1996) Poor Richard’s Principle Recovering the American Dream Through the Moral Dimension of Work, Business, and Money. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Чепреганов, Т. (2010), Историски фази на миграциите од Македонија, во Петко Христов, Балканската миграционна култура: исторически и съвременни примери от България и Македония, Българска академия на науките, Етнографски институт с музей, София: Парадигма.
5 Neocolonial Migration Policies, EU Resilience, and the Role of Greece Critique and the Possibility of Alternatives1 Costas Gousis and Alkisti Prepi
Introduction During the 2010s, Greece had to deal with a double “crisis”. First, the “debt crisis” in the context of the global capitalist crisis of 2008 and secondly the mass arrival of immigrants and refugees during and after 2015, which has been predominantly labelled a “refugee crisis”.2 Starting with the debt crisis, Greece was among the most affected countries in the European Union, as well as the object of a series of massive neoliberal economic restructuring policies. In the seven years following the 2008 crisis, Greece lost more than a quarter of its GDP. The Eurozone debt crisis and the bailout packages for Greece implemented in the country by the “Troika” –the European Commission, the European Central Bank (ECB), and the International Monetary Fund (IMF) –provide a view of the “dark side of the European integration” (Sotiris 2012b) and align with the long history of debt as a “weapon of dispossession” (Toussaint 2017). On these grounds, media reports and scholarly work have often described the treatment of Greece by the Troika as “neo-colonial”.3 As Jonas van Vossole explains, the loss of sovereignty during the Eurozone crisis can be related to what the Ghanaian politician and revolutionary Kwame Nkrumah defined as “neocolonialism” in the mid-1960s: the continuation of colonial power relations through processes of economic dependence, conditional aid, and cultural hegemony (Vossole 2016). Or, as Tariq Ali points out, Greece has been reduced “to the status of an EU colony, with all key decisions made in Brussels and Berlin” (Ali et al. 2016). After winning the January 2015 legislative elections with an explicitly antiausterity agenda, the Syriza-led government began negotiations with Greece’s three main creditors (the EU, ECB, and IMF, known as the Troika) regarding the terms for further bailout loans. On 27 June 2015, prime minister Alexis Tsipras announced a referendum to be held on 5 July 2015: the Greek people would vote on whether or not they approved of the new bailout programme the Troika had proposed to Greece. The subsequent victory of the “Oxi” (“No”) vote (61.3%) has been aptly described as a “tremendous show of determination from the part of the subaltern classes” (Sotiris 2017). But a week after the referendum, Tsipras returned DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-8
Migration Policies, EU Resilience, and Greece’s Role 91 to Athens from Brussels having agreed to a third Greek bailout on neocolonial terms, worse than the ones rejected by the 61.3% of the voters in the referendum. In parallel, 2015 has been characterized as the “long summer of migration” (della Porta 2018: 2), or “a historic year in terms of the scale and dynamism of its migrant movements”, with around 850,000 people landing on the Greek Aegean Islands (Ataç, Rygiel and Stierl 2016: 528). In view of these events, an explosion of solidarity practices occurred, with mass participation from Greek society. Most of these immigrants and refugees followed the Balkan route in order to reach Northern Europe. However, after the EU–Turkey refugee deal in March 2016, the Balkan route was closed and tens of thousands of refugees were trapped in Greece. As a result, Greece has been called to assume the role of Europe’s “gate- keeper”, implementing what we identify in this chapter as neocolonial policies on migrants and refugees, which include serious violations of basic human rights on a mass scale, atrocious conditions in detention, illegal pushbacks, and inhuman and degrading living conditions around Europe. These policies were not only the result of how migrants and refugees have been perceived from 2015 onwards but also the practical application of a large and complex framework that has been drawn by development agendas since roughly the turn of the century. Further, they were “incompatible with the guarantees of the existing asylum system and the level of protection of human rights which has been achieved within the international and European legal framework” (Adamou et al. 2016). In the dominant European narratives, migration has been baptized as a “risk” and a “crisis” but also as an “opportunity” for capitalist growth and development. And this has led to the implementation of a new risk and crisis management tool, that could function both as the medium and as the goal of a “managed” migration, beneficial for any future development. The notion of resilience appeared to be the best solution. Resilience, an ambiguous and highly contested term,4 works as a means of subjectification, creating the figure of the migrant/refugee both as a “threat” and as an agent of development. Spreading from security policies to development agendas, we will try to demonstrate how the malleable notion of resilience could shed light on the neocolonial policies on migration in Greece and, more broadly, in Southeast Europe. As Kušić, Lottholz, and Manolova (2019) explain Southeast Europe, as a term and as a notion, helps us tease out the important commonalities –both historical and contemporary –that mark this space, understood as including former Yugoslavian republics, Albania, Bulgaria, Romania and, in a broader sense, Greece and Turkey. As they add in their contribution to pathways towards decoloniality in Southeast Europe: decolonial thinking can be helpful in appreciating the region’s imperial and (quasi-)colonial legacy, in analysing contemporary forms of domination, hierarchy and resistance, and for identifying their corresponding practices of complicity and collaboration, but also of struggle, protest and reversals of the current neoliberal trajectory. (Kušić, Lottholz and Manolova 2019: 8)
92 Costas Gousis and Alkisti Prepi In this line of thought, our approach builds on the work of the Indian political scientist Ranabir Samaddar and, more specifically, his comments on “the post-colonial bind of Greece” (2016). The central pillars of his argument could be summarized as follows: First, he points out that what Europe is doing today, as a strategy to cope with migration, marks a broader transition of the continent towards becoming a neoliberal empire. Secondly, he stresses the structural link between the debt crisis and the responses to the “refugee crisis” in Greece and argues that the debt- migration nexus is hard to analyze without an understanding of the postcolonial world, its histories of debt, war, peace, and resistance, and of course the anticolonial revolutions. Finally, he proposes a critical postcolonial framework as the best lens through which to understand the situation in Greece, noting that Europe also has peripheries depending on neocolonial domination (Samaddar 2016: 11, 24, 118). To enrich the above perspective, this chapter deploys an interdisciplinary and decolonial framework and relates European policies on migrants and refugees to the concept of neocolonialism and the framework of resilience, emphasizing the link between the debt crisis and the so-called “refugee crisis”. To approach the question of decolonial politics in European peripheries, such as Greece, we need to further shed light on the position that the periphery holds within that very system. The main argument we will try to elaborate on will be that the case of Greece allows us to rethink coloniality through the double role that the European peripheries can assume, namely that of both the colonized and the colonizer. European apartheid We should first start with the relation between the concept of neocolonialism and the EU migration policies. In his analysis, Aamir Mufti highlights how certain immigration patterns were first set in France and the UK in the 1950s and 1960s (Mufti 2014a). Considering that the immigrant populations in these countries were largely from the former colonies, Mufti argues that these patterns re- established the imperial metropole/colonial periphery relationship in postcolonial times. Subsequently, contemporary anti-immigrant EU policies can be seen as the continuation of these immigration patterns. A milestone in the establishment of new policies on migration has been the Dublin Convention (European Union 1990), which first came to force in 1997 and was later toughened with surveillance and fingerprinting systems (the “Eurodac” system). According to the Dublin Convention, the “entry states”, such as Greece, are responsible for processing asylum applications. Mufti identifies the two Dublin protocols as demonstrating the ways in which the EU’s North–South disparities work on the ground concerning the immigrant question. The following comments illustrate well his critical view: In a sane world, the politicians of the southern countries who signed the two Dublin protocols would be tried for treason. Since the overwhelming majority of undocumented workers, refugees, and asylum seekers entering the EU do so typically from the south and southeast, across the Thrace corridor or across
Migration Policies, EU Resilience, and Greece’s Role 93 the Mediterranean system of seas, and not from the direction of the North Pole or of Greenland, Dublin II in particular makes stunningly clear the inequality inherent to the EU as a geopolitical structure. (Mufti 2014a) Focusing on the role of Greece with regard to the immigrant question, Mufti explains that in entering the European system, a society like Greece in effect became a former imperial metropole. Which, as Mufti adds, seems quite paradoxical considering that Greece has its own long history of foreign rule (Mufti 2014a). Michael Herzfeld offers insightful comments on the historical development of the relations between Greece and the West throughout the last two centuries, describing the phenomenon as “crypto-colonialism”. As he explains: I shall call it “crypto-colonialism” and define it as the curious alchemy whereby certain countries, buffer zones between the colonised lands and those as yet untamed, were compelled to acquire their political independence at the expense of massive economic dependence, this relationship being articulated in the iconic guise of aggressively national culture fashioned to suit foreign models. Such countries were and are living paradoxes: they are nominally independent, but that independence comes at the price of a sometimes-humiliating form of effective dependence. (Herzfeld 2009: 342–343) Focusing on the period after the Second World War, Neni Panourgia explains how Greece has been used “as a laboratory for neo-colonialism at the outset of the imperial expansion of U.S. power” (Panourgià 2009: 30). Further, she relates this neocolonial treatment of Greece to state repression against the Greek Left in the decades before and after WWII and identifies “the Greek Leftist as a paradigmatic figure of abjection” (ibid: xxiii). She particularly focuses on political detention and exile camps and describes how dozens of islands, strewn throughout the Greek seas, were transformed into a web of fenced and strictly disciplined spaces of existence. In this context, Panourgia suggests that seemingly recent legal “innovations”, like the indefinite detention, can be traced back to these aspects of Greek history (ibid). Following this line of thought, the contemporary EU immigration policies practised in Greece can be described as neocolonial, in the sense that they reflect, here and now, the long history of European colonialism and state authoritarianism, which is yet to end in the 21st century. Within this context, one can argue that the Greek state finds its own place in what Balibar calls the emergence of a real “European apartheid”, the dark side of developing a formal “European citizenship” (Balibar 2003: 121). During the last decades, successive Greek governments have had their proper history of neocolonial immigration patterns, especially practised on a mass scale in the 1990s as a response to Albanian immigration to Greece. However, neocolonial immigration policies’ “flourishing period” started with the 2008 global capitalist
94 Costas Gousis and Alkisti Prepi crisis. The existing structures of discrimination in Greece escalated, leading to a well- orchestrated scapegoating of the so- called lathro-metanastes (“illegal immigrants”) for the coming crisis. The main motto was to “make immigrant lives unbearable”5 –or, as the then Greek Prime Minister, Antonis Samaras, summarized in his 2012 campaign: “We will reclaim our cities from the illegal migrants that have taken them over” (Samaras 2012).6 It is no coincidence that one of the first initiatives of Samaras’ newly elected government in 2012 was constructing a 12.5- kilometre barbed-wire fence with surveillance equipment along Greece’s land border with Turkey at the river Evros. But this brings us to the following phenomenon, which can be described as the vicious circle of scapegoating and highlights the double role of the colonizer and the colonized. What happened in Greece in the post-2008 period played out in the European North as well, the only difference being that in place of the “illegal immigrants” were the “lazy Greeks” who, according to the mainstream tendency, deserved to be punished by the Troika. Patterns of racism against the Greeks were related to the general stigmatization of “the Balkans” (Todorova 2009), as well as the racial framing of the crisis-ridden countries, the so-called “PIGS” (Portugal, Ireland, Greece, Spain, and sometimes Italy), a term derived from the first letter of each country’s name (Vossole 2016). This vicious circle of scapegoating underlines the paradox of the signifier “Greeks” as victims of racist patterns, as related to the European north-south divide, and of the same signifier, embodied by the Greek state and far-right groups, engaging in acts of racism against immigrants.7 Mufti relates the patterns of anti-immigrant racism during the Greek crisis to “the threat of the withdrawal of Europeanness” (Mufti 2014a). Indeed, in the name of “Europeanness”, the Greek state was willing to assume the role of “the gate-keepers for Europe’s border regime” (Kouvelakis 2018: 16), simultaneously creating favourable terrain for hatred against the immigrants already living in the country. This is linked to what scholars describe as “a misplaced alliance within national communities” (Agustin and Jørgensen 2016; Mayo 2016). As the scholars explain commenting on the emergence of populist right-wing movements and parties and their impact on the working class: Misplaced alliances hinder the recognition of a subaltern, albeit heterogeneous, class and set the agenda for homogeneity as the main goal, ignoring the consequences of the capitalist system. (Agustin and Jørgensen 2016: 13) Resilience as a new crisis management tool The need for the implementation of an adaptive crisis management tool that can at the same time “secure” “Europeanness” without obstructing further development was answered through the notion of resilience. Resilience, abstract and flexible enough to connect everything today defined as a “crisis” – from the migrants and the refugees, the economic crises, climate change, to pandemic diseases –talks not
Migration Policies, EU Resilience, and Greece’s Role 95 only about being able to recover and rebound after a disturbance but also about the capacity to distinguish “opportunities” for further development within each crisis. Resilience was first defined in ecological theory, as “a measure of the persistence of systems and of their ability to absorb change and disturbance and still maintain the same relationships between populations or state variables” (Holling 1973: 14). In the social sciences, it describes “the ability of human communities to withstand external shocks or perturbations to their infrastructure, such as environmental variability or social, economic or political upheaval, and to recover from such perturbations” (Adger 2000: 347). Resilience in fact talks about socially adopting unconditionally the concept of natural selection, of winners and losers, of adaptive and maladaptive, of resilient and nonresilient (Joseph 2013; Neocleous 2012), within the context of the neoliberal competition, the new bellum omnium contra omnes. As Sarah Bracke suggests, resilience relies fundamentally and dialectically on dangers presented as permanent, since “without disasters or at least a threat of it, there is no (need for) resilience” (Bracke 2016: 59). By capitalizing on catastrophe, the main underlying principle of resilience is the continuous emergence of nonpreventable crises thus creating a context of a permanent state of siege, where “the poison is used as an antidote” (Ribault 2021: 32). On the same line, Evans and Reid correctly emphasize that resilience teaches us “to think that individuals and societies must accept catastrophe as the start point for comporting themselves towards the future” (Evans and Reid 2014:xii). In this context, everything is perceived as a danger that threatens us in the same way, equating natural and social phenomena, political and economic crises, neutralizing social problems, power relations, and the implications of specific political choices. And hence it becomes the most advised solution and one of the central imperatives of every development plan. We suggest that resilience guarantees first and above all the survival, security, and reproduction of the capitalist system itself and of capitalist growth. In this sense, resilience is structurally linked to neocolonialism and as a development imperative, it embodies its theoretical and practical corpus. Above all, resilience proves to be neocolonialism’s most effective contemporary tool since it establishes a strictly hierarchical and multiscalar approach, where every part of the system owes to be resilient in order for the system itself to survive. The new security-resilience nexus promoted is in fact the means of a class policy that allows the ruling class to maintain its dominance and its profits in periods of crisis. So, resilience emerges as a global way of thinking, a global way of analyzing the relation between “uncontrollable” subjects and their environment. Or, as Samaddar eloquently notes, resilience is part of the “neoliberal strategy to overcome the division in the global capitalist order between the developed world and the post-colonial world, if necessary by making life in the bourgeois world post- colonial” (Samaddar 2015: 142). The way resilience functions becomes evident when we turn our attention to how it works as a means of subjectification. Resilience is in fact reproducing the Thatcherite “There Is No Alternative” (TINA) rhetoric, by creating subjects whose imperative is their adaptation to situations extending far beyond their control, and
96 Costas Gousis and Alkisti Prepi bears the seeds of neoliberal social Darwinism, according to which only the most capable and adaptive ones can make it. The resilient subject, true to the neoliberal demand for individual responsibility, owes to be self-secure against any kind of possible dangers. Deprived of any possibility to imagine alternatives, (s)he is called, in order to exist, to embrace and adapt to the disastrousness of her reality. As Mark Neocleous (2013: 5) summarizes: “Neoliberal citizenship is nothing if not a training in resilience as the new technology of the self: a training to withstand whatever crisis capital undergoes and whatever political measures the state carries out to save it”. However, it is important to note that the notion of the resilient subject itself can be differentiated, depending on his or her social and economic context. Bracke (2016) distinguishes two types of resilient subjects, formed through adapting to different threats and dangers. First, the resilient subject of the global North, which feels threatened mainly by terrorism, demanding securitarian and social control policies in their more classical form. Second, the subject of the global South who has survived colonisation, exploitation, and wars, and has been subjected to austerity programs, most often conceptualised in the Global North […]. We might call this a subject of subaltern resilience, or the resilience of the wretched of the earth […] (Bracke 2016: 60) As resilient subjects, their main aim is survival “in conditions of often unbearable symbolic and material violence” (Bracke 2016: 60), mainly imposed by the North. To put it differently, the resilience of the global North depends on the dispossession of the global South. Resilience as a policy framework The practical use of the term resilience was limited, until the turn of the century in the military. It was initially recorded in the US army manuals concerning the developing world metropoles with high social and economic inequalities, searching for methods of suppression of possible uprisings (Taw and Hoffman 1994; Norton 2003). Resilience has been introduced into the political discourse during the Clinton presidency as part of Homeland Security where it has been completely established after 9/11.8 As a crisis management rhetoric, it was empowered after the Katrina disasters in New Orleans in 2005 and became the absolute strategy after the 2008 capitalist crisis. During the 2010s, the dominant approaches to the situation of migrants and refugees started to be based principally on the framework of resilience. Migrants occupy the first place in the long list of “threats” connected to the vocabulary of fear, insecurity, and violence, but also to climate change to which migration is presented as an adaptive response. The UN leads the way: It is clear that in the coming decades, the rural poor will be tested as the impacts of climate change manifest. There are no cities in the developing world large
Migration Policies, EU Resilience, and Greece’s Role 97 enough or wealthy enough to absorb the migration of the poor who have no buffer against these dangers, and can find no means to adapt. The political and social instability inherent in such potentially massive movements of people is of increasing concern to the international community. […]. The consequences of not acting may well test the depths of our compassion. (United Nations Development Programme et al. 2008) In the contemporary development discourse, both the issues of climate change and migration become central. As argues the Rockefeller Foundation’s 100 Resilient Cities programme (100RC)9: “The mass migration we are witnessing today is not a temporary state of emergency, but the beginning of a new reality. Most likely, the factors pushing migrants to cities will only become more common and impactful” (100 Resilient Cities 2016: 17). Therefore, migration is no longer presented just as a threat but also as a “challenge” and an “opportunity” for any further development. Within the context of the contemporary developmental discourse of, as Samaddar (2020: 76–77) describes, the “uneven geographies of protection and labour market [where] the globe is conceived in terms of sanctuaries, third countries, hotspots, border zones, safe corridors, legally run labour regimes, remittance- centric segments of global economy [and] places with multi-stakeholder operations”, Greece finds its proper place as not only EU’s but also NATO’s border. It marks the place where the global North’s resilience-security meets the resilience-survival of the global South, implementing strategies to separate migration into “acceptable” and “non-acceptable” according to its developmental value, as we shall see later on. In what follows, we will provide some aspects of the legal, political, social, and economic aspects of neocolonial migration policies at the south-eastern European borders. Border control: From the EU–Turkey deal to NATO’s security strategies The EU–Turkey deal, made in March 2016, is a statement of cooperation between the European Council and Turkey, according to which: “All new irregular migrants and asylum seekers arriving from Turkey to the Greek islands and whose applications for asylum have been declared inadmissible should be returned to Turkey” (European Parliament 2016). The EU–Turkey deal was implemented by the Syriza-Anel government elected in January 2015, namely a coalition between a party with a pro-immigrant and pro-refugee electoral program and a small right- wing populist party promoting xenophobia. If imposing austerity measures was the nadir of Syriza’s economic politics, we argue that implementing the EU–Turkey deal was its counterpart regarding the protection regime for migrants and refugees. In other words, it was the translation of the TINA doctrine in the field of the protection regime for migrants and refugees. Implementing the statement in practice resulted in a complete abandonment for thousands of migrants and refugees trapped after the shut off of the Balkan corridor and the EU–Turkey deal. From Idomeni, “Europe’s biggest favela”, as was reported in the Guardian (Smith 2016) to Moria camp, for which the New York Times
98 Costas Gousis and Alkisti Prepi has offered the title “ ‘Better to Drown’: A Greek Refugee Camp’s Epidemic of Misery” (Kingsley 2018), the living conditions amount to inhuman and degrading treatment. “How are these things still possible in the 21st century?” is an everyday question, usually rhetorical, often raised by people with good intentions, human rights activists, researchers, etc. Recalling Walter Benjamin, this kind of astonishment is “by no means philosophical. It is not the beginning of knowledge unless it would be the knowledge that the conception of history on which it rests is untenable” (Benjamin 1974: thesis VIII). Based on the premise of Turkey as a safe country for immigrants and refugees, we argue that no agreement could better illustrate the neocolonial immigration patterns of Fortress Europe than the EU–Turkey deal. In fact, a postcolonial lens allows us to view the EU–Turkey deal as a turning point as well as in continuity with the new global paradigm. To widen this perspective, we suggest rethinking the EU–Turkey deal as similar to Australia’s refugee externalization policies, both on an ideological and practical level. As Nethery and Lea (2020) point out, many refugee externalization policies around the world are forged upon old colonial relationships. For example, Australia’s two partners in its offshore processing policy, Nauru and Papua New Guinea, are its two former colonies. In August 2016, more than 2,000 leaked incident reports were published by The Guardian (Farrell, Evershed, and Davidson 2016). Released from inside Australia’s detention camp for asylum seekers on the remote Pacific island of Nauru, these 8,000 pages provide an illuminating view of the routine dysfunction and cruelty caused by these refugee externalization policies. Further, the EU–Turkey deal should be linked to the externalization arrangements between the EU and North African countries, which build on the legacy of the European colonization of Africa. In spring 2016, the African Civil Society (2016) condemned the “hunting policies for migrants that grow everywhere on the African continent with the support of the European institutions under the guise of the fight against ‘irregular’ migration”. According to the statement, illustrative of these hunting policies is the EU-funded, heavily armed anti-immigration brigade in Libya. As Afailal and Fernandez (2018) explain: The construction of the externalised European borders represents a new form of coloniality, classifying the population (migrant vs. EU citizen) and the countries (EU members vs. countries where control has been externalised to) according to the level of threat they represent for the EU. In this context, the EU–Turkey deal marks a turning point and, at the same time, aligns with the realities of the postcolonial world. Considering the above, the role of NATO and Frontex complements the picture pointing to the militarization of borders. Specifically, resilience constitutes one of the central principles of NATO’s security strategies: Each NATO member country needs to be resilient to resist and recover from a major shock such as a natural disaster, failure of critical infrastructure or an
Migration Policies, EU Resilience, and Greece’s Role 99 armed attack. Resilience is a society’s ability to resist and recover easily and quickly from such shocks and combines both civil preparedness and military capacity. Robust resilience and civil preparedness in Allied countries are essential to NATO’s collective security and defence. (NATO 2023) Further, the former Supreme Allied Commander Transformation speaks about “hybrid threats” and explains that “an arc of insecurity is stretching along NATO’s borders and periphery, defining the two strategic directions, East and South” (General Mercier 2018:v). In this context, in the Warsaw Summit of 2016, the Allies, in order to confront future “hybrid/terrorist” attacks, agreed on seven baseline requirements for strengthening their resilience, which is understood as the “first line of defence for today’s modern societies” (NATO 2019). NATO (2019) explicitly notes that one of these requirements is the “ability to deal effectively with the uncontrolled movement of people”. In this case, resilience strategies focus on the “deterrence by denial: persuading an adversary not to attack by convincing it that an attack will not achieve its intended objectives”. And this, in practice, is embodied in the NATO’s Aegean Sea activity, which, as “part and parcel of the militarisation of migration management that has characterised the Mediterranean in [the] past few years” (Garelli and Tazzioli 2016), actually facilitates the drowning of migrants arriving in Greece through the sea, the confinement of migrants in hotspots and concentration camps on the Greek islands as well as the inhuman living conditions they have to face there. And so, the subjects of the global North can achieve their resilience, securing themselves from the looming threat of the migrants. NATO’s operations in the Aegean started in February 2016, after requests were made by Germany, Greece, and Turkey for NATO “to join international efforts in dealing with [the refugee] crisis” (NATO 2021). NATO fleet’s role in the Aegean was not to directly enforce the pushbacks but “to conduct reconnaissance, monitoring and surveillance of illegal crossings” (NATO 2021), and to “enable the Greek and Turkish coastguards, as well as Frontex, to do their job even more effectively” (NATO 2016). In other words, the patrolling of the Aegean Sea from Greece to Turkey, as well as the provision of real-time information to Frontex. NATO’s intervention was in fact a move towards the further externalization of the European borders even further since Frontex cannot operate in Turkish waters. As Garelli and Tazzioli (2016) correctly point out, “this military mission in the Aegean Sea extends the EU preemptive maritime frontier into Turkey, with the mandate to control ‘illegal crossings’ ”. It is not surprising that such “fruitful initiatives” as the EU–Turkey agreement and the NATO-Frontex cooperation, were soon to become “innovative” examples to be “further developed”, as the Italian prime minister Matteo Renzi suggested in April 2016 in his “Migration Compact” to the European Union (Italian Non-Paper 2016). While proposing a duplication of the EU–Turkey deal with Libya, Renzi also presented another view of migration, that of the agent of development: “At the same time, if well managed, migration may represent an opportunity both for
100 Costas Gousis and Alkisti Prepi the EU and partner countries, in terms of economic growth and development, and for an ageing Europe in terms of sustainability of social security systems” (Italian Non-Paper 2016: 1). Migration as development Security appears to be the fundamental prerequisite for any future development. As Hilary Benn, former UK Secretary of State for International Development, argued: “development without security is not possible; security without development is only temporary” (Benn 2004). But the image of a “fortress Europe” and a “fortress NATO” is one of Janus’ faces. The other, which legitimizes the first one, is humanitarian reasoning, embodied in notions such as vulnerability, social cohesion, and migrant integration. In practice, it is about those migrants that are considered to be “selectable”; the adaptive migrants, the resilient migrants. The part of the migration that is claimed to have “beneficial effects” for global development. As the World Bank’s 2010 report argues: […] policies designed to restrict migration rarely succeed, are often self- defeating, and increase the costs to migrants and to communities of origin and destination. In facilitating migration as a response to climate impacts, it is better to formulate integrated migration and development policies that address the needs of voluntary migrants and support their entrepreneurial abilities and technical skills. (World Bank 2010: 109) Thus, migrants, the subjects of subaltern resilience, become agents of development. The very existence of a Global Forum on Migration and Development (GFMD) since 2007 is proof of the practical implications of this nexus.10 Its 2017–2018 agenda placed resilience at the centre, with a Roundtable session titled “From vulnerability to resilience: recognising migrants as agents of development”. However, behind this humanistic façade, the only “acceptable” migration is the economically productive one. Hence, the goal is “to ensure that migration occurs in a way which maximises benefits to the individual, and both source and destination communities” (UK Government Office for Science 2011: 10). Cities become important partners in this context. Having for a long time presented migration as a “threat”, the city of Athens changes its discourse and follows the migration- as- development imperative after 2015.11 Athens’ resilience plan for the 100RC programme, which defines “refugees” as one of its main “challenges”, is indicative of this shift in the migration vocabulary. Moreover, the mayor of Athens, in a common letter with the mayors of Paris and Rome, demanded to adopt a leading role in the discussions for the Global Compact on Refugees, connecting the migratory movements with the first terrorist attacks in Paris in 2015. They called for “the big European cities [to] have an active part in the discussions between the European Commission and governments for the formulation of the Global Compact on Refugees, given the fact that one of the cities” main aims is
Migration Policies, EU Resilience, and Greece’s Role 101 “the security of citizens, the regulation of migratory flows and the protection of our borders” (Kaminis, Marino, and Hidalgo 2015). At the same time, the 100RC programme itself is indicative of the way migration is seen as a “challenge” and an “opportunity” for development. One of its most prominent works is the “Global Migration: Resilient Cities at the Forefront” report (2016), composed of 8 member cities, among which Athens and Thessaloniki, the two major Greek cities.12 Migrants and refugees are named “newcomers” and “new arrivals”, thus attached to more positive connotations. Under bold titles such as “thrive together”, “lead to change”, “shared pursuit of opportunity and prosperity”, the report talks about “valuing and leveraging the talents of migrants [in order for the] cities to harness the economic energy of new arrivals” (100 Resilient Cities 2016: 10). Or as it is eloquently noted, the objective is the “effective use of migrant human capital” (100 Resilient Cities 2016: 90). In this case, migrants are not only seen as a labour force or as remittance-carriers but also as a way of attracting capital: “Hosting large numbers of displaced persons can attract significant international investment” (100 Resilient Cities 2016: 18). Aligned with the neoliberal demands for individual responsibility, one of the main objectives of all resilience and development agendas is for migrants to become “self-reliant”. A different way of defining resilience is survival. Personal survivalism follows the new approach to development, which places human agency at the centre and is measured, as David Chandler explains, in terms of individual capabilities (Chandler 2012). An argument that is all too familiar, in accordance with the famous Thatcherist phrase “Who is society? There is no such thing! There are individual men and women and there are families” (Thatcher 1987). Migrants thus ought to become resilient against any form of labour conditions, any form of exploitation, and so on. As Bettini rightly points out: the subjectivity envisioned/fantasised in the figure of the resilient […] migrant is that of a docile and mobile individual able to put herself on the (inter)national labour markets –a good entrepreneur of herself. What the docile migrant should follow, as a part of her becoming resilient, are labour markets and economic efficiency (primarily for capital), which become the main vehicles for adaptation. (Bettini 2014: 189–190) In this context, the migration-as-adaptation moto allows, as Bettini (2014) explains, the creation of a biopolitical rule that promotes managed migration as a beneficial development practice, separating migration into “good”, which is encouraged, and “bad”, which is policed. Resilience can work both as a means and an end for the migration-security-development equation. Conclusion: the possibility of alternatives Focusing on the security-resilience nexus in junction with the debt-migration nexus in the case of Greece, this chapter tried to highlight the double identity of the colonized and the colonizer in the European peripheries, that mark the peculiar
102 Costas Gousis and Alkisti Prepi grey zone of the border, or, –to paraphrase Gloria Anzaldúa –the open wound where the global South grates against the North and bleeds (Anzaldúa 1987: 3). The descriptions of the systematic economic and social abuse of migrants deprived of their basic civil rights align with Susan Ferguson and David McNally’s (2015) descriptions of the migrant worker, as “the ideal precarious labourer of the neoliberal era”. In this context, the formation of the resilient subject individualizes the responsibility of survival in terms that reproduce dominance in the higher level of internal divisions of the subaltern classes. Instead of political subjects, refugees and migrants are conceptualized as subjects of global development linking issues of care, protection, and security to the market economy (Samaddar 2020). What is promoted is the apotheosis of victimization in terms of multiple divisions and investment in trauma. As Mark Neocleous sharply points out: the language of trauma and anxiety, and the training in resilience that is associated with these terms, weds us to a deeply conservative mode of thinking, with the superficial “humanitarianism” supposedly captured in the discourse of trauma in fact functioning as a means of cutting off political alternatives. (Neocleous 2012: 189) It is all about how to think against the dominant reasoning that reproduces the strategy of “There Is No Alternative” (TINA) not only through the process of adaptation to the perpetuated capitalist accumulation through economic dispossession but also through the dispossession of the possibility to imagine and struggle for a different reality. Elaborating on “the nexus of debt and migration”, revealing the deep and structural connection between the Greek bailout referendum and the EU–Turkey deal, we highlighted the following two dimensions. First, both the austerity package and the EU–Turkey deal were imposed on Greece by the EU based on the TINA narrative. In the first case, Greece was threatened with expulsion from the Eurozone, and in the second case, with expulsion from the Schengen Area. In fact, the Greek Government was asked to implement the neocolonial refugee agreement with Turkey in order to keep the benefits of European integration. In both cases, the Syriza-led government ultimately accepted the blackmail and adopted the TINA narrative. Second, it is important to note that Syriza’s capitulation seriously impacted social movements. As Kouvelakis (2018) argues, these developments had a “stunning –and lasting –effect on the political capacities of the subaltern classes, curbing the will to resist and, for some time at least, blocking the possibility of creating a subaltern counter-hegemony”. In this period of defeat and disorganization, the impressive refugee solidarity movement kept alive the spirit of the pre-2015 struggles. Concerning the broader picture of the history of the political and social struggles in Greece in the 21st century, a decolonial perspective highlights the need for its rewriting through the lens of the subaltern classes, which are multiracial, multiethnic, multicultural, and multigendered. From migrant worker strikes, social
Migration Policies, EU Resilience, and Greece’s Role 103 centres, housing projects, antiracist mobilizations, and justice campaigns, migrant agency before and after the EU–Turkey deal offers many cases of best-practice activism. Instead of adopting the framework of resilience, we conclude that the contemporary discussion on the possibilities of an anticapitalist perspective with the aim to end the “varying degrees of subordination, rule, discrimination and segmentation” (Mezzadra and Neilson 2013: 159), will seriously benefit from postcolonial critique. As Samaddar explains, post-colonial critique does not aim to provide any alternative theory, but a dialectical mode of analyzing contemporary capitalism and suggest that there is much to learn from the vast reservoir of anti-colonial politics in the present phase of the global struggle for ending capitalism. (Samaddar 2016: 119) This chapter tried to elaborate progressive alternatives based on a radical view on human rights and political subjectivity beyond and against resilience agendas. Instead of the “duty to integrate” and “remain resilient”, a decolonial perspective highlights the need to rewrite the recent history of the political and social struggles through the lens of the subaltern classes, which are multiracial, multiethnic, multicultural, and multigendered. Rather than adopting the homogeneous concept of the “Greeks” or any other nation and capitulating to the TINA doctrine, the real challenge for leftist politics in Greece, Southeast Europe, and everywhere is to rethink resistance strategies and inclusive alliances towards a potential counter- hegemonic bloc offering the possibility not only to (re)imagine but also to (re) claim a different world. Notes 1 The present chapter is partly based on our joint presentation at the Fourth Annual Research and Orientation Workshop on Global Protection of Migrants and Refugees, organized by the Calcutta Research Group (CRG) in collaboration with the Rosa Luxemburg Stiftung, held in Kolkata, India from 25 November to 29 November 2019. 2 For a critique, see De Genova (2017). 3 The following are some illustrative examples of these analyses: Ali et al. (2016); Kouvelakis (2018); Samaddar (2016); Mufti (2014a, 2014b); Sotiris (2012a); Douzinas and Papaconstantinou (2011); Varoufakis (2017); Vatikiotis (2012); Vassalos (2018); Vossole (2016); Martin (2016); Mason (2015). 4 See Walker and Cooper (2011); Watts (2015); Evans and Reid (2014); Zebrowski (2016); Ribault (2021); Neocleous (2012); O’Malley (2010); Joseph (2013). 5 These words were attributed to the Greek chief of police. Amnesty International (2013) intervened by demanding the government’s investigation of the case. 6 Antonis Samaras was elected prime minister in the June 2012 parliamentary elections. This was actually one of the basic pre- election promises of the right- wing New Democracy party. 7 In light of the above, the most dangerous development in Greece, especially after 2010, was the rise of Golden Dawn, a neo-Nazi criminal organization that assumed the form
104 Costas Gousis and Alkisti Prepi of a political party and managed to enter parliament, winning 18 seats in the 300-seat Parliament (Greek Ministry of Interior 2012). This criminal organization considered the immigrants “subhumans who invaded our country with all kind of diseases” (Hellenic Parliament 2012) and who even deserved physical extermination (Psarras 2015: 19). 8 See, for example: US Department of Homeland Security (DHS), special topic Resilience (www.dhs.gov/topic/resilience). 9 A programme created and sponsored by the Rockefeller Foundation from 2013 to 2019, aiming at creating a global network of 100 cities to share their knowledge and strengthen their resilience against various “challenges”, “shocks” and “stresses”. It is until today the largest programme developed on a world scale to promote resilience policies in urban development agendas. 10 The GFMD, formed in 2007, is presented as “the largest informal, non-binding, voluntary and government-led process, bringing together expertise from all regions and countries at all stages of economic, social and political development” (GFMD 2007). 11 See, for example, Athens’ urban development plans: Special Permanent Committee on Environmental Protection (2010); Inter-ministerial Coordination and Athens Municipality (2010); Laboratory of Planning and Regional Development (2013). 12 100 RC Network Exchange programme with the participation of Paris, Los Angeles, Athens, Medellín, Montreal, Amman, Ramallah, Thessaloniki.
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6 Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies Notes from Borderlands Nergis Canefe
Introduction My goal in this article is to expand the horizon of decolonization as a method in the specific context of forced migration studies. Decolonization is not “simply a metaphor for other things we want to do to improve in our societies” (Tuck and Yang 2012). Such easy adoptions of the decolonizing discourse via educational advocacy and scholarship, evidenced by an increasing number of calls to “decolonize our schools”, to use “decolonizing methods”, or, to “decolonize academic thinking”, turn decolonization into a placeholder with no clear meaning, a roadmap for action devoid of actual content. As important as their goals may be, debates on social justice, critical race theory, critical methodologies, or approaches that aim to decentre settler perspectives do not allocate substance to decolonization, either. Rather, decolonization continues to be framed more as a technique than as a game changer in these aforementioned contexts. In Tuck and Yang’s words, As important as their goals may be, social justice, critical methodologies, or approaches that decentre settler perspectives have objectives that may be incommensurable with decolonization. Because settler colonialism is built upon an entangled triad structure of settler-native-slave, the decolonial desires of white, non-white, immigrant, postcolonial, and oppressed people, can similarly be entangled in resettlement, reoccupation, and reinhabitation that actually further settler colonialism. (Tuck and Yang 2012) In contradistinction, I strive to reappropriate methodologies developed by scholars who work directly on decolonization in order to foreground “an ethic of incommensurability” (Mair and Evans 2015; see also Baldwin 2017) recognizing what is distinct in project(s) of decolonization in relation to forced migration studies. I do so by pointing out the unsettling themes that emerge out of transnational/Third World takes on decolonization and critical pedagogies with particular emphasis on conceptualizations of dispossession and displacement in South Asia. Proponents of decolonizing methodologies declare the necessity of prioritizing Indigenous and non-white scholars in knowledge production, particularly in the DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-9
Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies 111 postcolonial and anticolonial settings, as well as making the assertion that one must have a clear understanding of decolonization as a political movement centrally concerned with the return of appropriated land and resources rather than being a mere an intellectual exercise (see Bhatia 2012; also Xavier et al. 2021). Otherwise, reproducing the very structures of privilege, which decolonization seeks to unsettle and ultimately undo is a distinct possibility, whereby academics from the global North once again are rendered as prime agents of “decolonizing knowledge” while Indigenous scholars, postcolonial voices, advocates, and activists become decorative figures. This particular worry cuts to the core of the need I see to reshape the disciplinary self-understanding of forced migration studies. It also exposes a fundamental epistemological tension that runs across all forms of knowledge production. Designation of ideas, experiences, histories, and values in the construction of forms of collective belonging, such as disciplinary training, and the emergence of a shared critical consciousness shaping public understanding of events are key aspects of both knowledge production and mobilization. Undoubtedly, the traditions of thought and critical inquiry associated with postcolonialism and decoloniality are long standing and diverse (Bhambra 2014). Scholarly work emanating from these traditions addresses issues related to not just the material or the socio-economic realms but also those of cultural and political orders. However, only with the interventions formulated by thinkers such as Anibal Quijano, Walter D. Mignolo, and Ranabir Samaddar did we begin to see strong connections made between these realms and the sustenance of the dominant narratives marking the core, leading to coloniality/ postcoloniality being defined as a condition (see Mignolo 2002, 2007, 2009, 2013; Quijano 2000; Samaddar 2015, 2020). From the inclusion of the world-systems theory to the incorporation of theories of unequal development, as well as the Frankfurt School critical social theory tradition, Foucaultian and Gramscian scholarship on power, hegemony, and historical change, these lines of debate are hybrid and well-versed in multiple schools of thought and yet also bring forth something essentially different. The unique perspective marking the experiences and study of forced migration in the Global South, particularly in South Asia, overrides disciplinary differences. The geographical locations from where these scholars hail and the focus of their discontent as well as visionary expanse mark the work of what I would call diasporic scholarship from the Global South. Their positionality also required them to utilize a much longer time frame in their analyses of dispossession. If postcolonialism refers mainly to the unfolding of events during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, decoloniality has even a longer history as it starts with the European incursions of the Americas from the fifteenth century onwards. In this context, postcolonial and decolonial methodologies directly challenge the insularity of historical narratives and historiographical traditions emanating from Europe. Concerning the statements about endogenous origins of modernity, for instance, the postcolonial voice speaks loud and clear about the necessity of understanding the emergence of the “modern world” vis-à-vis histories of colonialism, racism, empire, and enslavement. Traditions of postcolonial thought and
112 Nergis Canefe decoloniality combined thus present a radical potential in unsettling and reconstituting processes of knowledge production and in the following pages, I hope to articulate a particular direction for unleashing this potential in the context of forced migration studies as it relates to South Asia. This form of engagement with would allow us to articulate the suffering of others not in terms of vulnerability but through a radically different template: understanding of spatial displacement in tandem with its temporal dimensions and in conversation with the discourses of everyday politics of existence and survival. Crowned by neoliberalism and its long shadow cast upon the university, reanimating discussions on forced migration from the borderlands and with an emphasis on decolonization could herald radical new beginnings for the field. Temporality of dispossession In the aftermath of wars and mass displacements, those who survive the atrocities try to rebuild their lives in spaces that no longer are what once was. These “plunder spaces” are like replanted gardens: they are built upon the remains of others’ lives (Bryant and Knight 2019). In these contexts, questions of what belongs to whom, who belongs to where, who can return, and what is not to be remembered are always contested while one tries to rebuild a present and imagine a future that is marked not just by uncertainty but also by every day remnants of war, destruction, violence, and irreparable loss. The kinds of divides and deprivations emanating from such circumstances chain the present to a past that is marked by a tormented relationship with time as well as with our understandings of the self (Bryant and Knight 2019). Justice and call for closure are recurring themes virtually in all genres of writing concerning mass violence and dispossession. Similarly, trying to understand other peoples’ sense of time and temporality remains a persistent endeavour that characterizes the work on long-term impacts of conflict-related displacement and postconflict realities. But it is not only the past that motivates decolonial methodologies: the future has become a growing interest across disciplines in studies of alternative takes on temporality. As such, discussions on the past and present and how these relate to imagined futures gained renewed currency (Agathangelou and Killian 2016). These are not the kind of debates that will bring us to praise preordained ends. Inclusion of everyday experiences of austerity and dispossession does not provide a direction for the very people who are caught in the middle of mass population movements. Similarly, turning our gaze to the future on its own does not bring forth the possibility of alternative trajectories. Engagement with futurities is by no means an invitation to establish new theologies. Neither is it an effort to delve into the lives of collectivities that are dispossessed and displaced in order to chart the futures of societies in the Global South. Decolonizing forced migration studies is an absolute political and ethical necessity and choice but with no predetermined yield. Indeed, there is always the danger that we place too much emphasis on historical time and mainly concentrate on the past. This kind of methodological prioritization of what has happened creates difficulties in terms of
Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies 113 developing an adequate understanding of ruptured paths in regions mapped out postcolonial existences. On the other hand, availing openness to the future and the ability to imagine what could be requires a notable redefinition of our purposes for understanding histories of violence. In this regard, key concepts such as anticipation, destiny, potentiality, and hope are essential for engaging with the decolonizing practices in forced migration studies. Our understanding of time, not just the past or the future but temporalities of violence, transforms the way we see the world and directly influences the way we choose to act. Speaking from the vantage point of anticolonial, postcolonial, and decolonial methodologies, a direct address of patterns of political violence, oppression, new forms of slavery, and unending wars wrapped in the protective cover of state criminality, along with structural poverty and novel forms of exploitation predicated upon precarity, change the tone of how we speak of forced migration. Displacement is not a point in time, but a multiscalar event that is fluid in terms of its temporality as well as spatiality (Çağlar and Schiller 2021). This relationship between our understanding of temporality and histories of violence is best explored in the context of formulating radical alternatives (Agathangelou and Killian 2016). Space and time coordinates brought together constitute the grounds for exploring transformative promises of the unsettlement that is introduced by mass migration. Reimagining forced migration studies will not bring redemption for the exaltation of difference in the field. However, if we are to talk about a global present, then the kind of postcolonial chronologies that are embraced by studies of force migration in South Asia as one of the traditional borderlands of the Eurocentric mapping of the field force us to deal with the tensions between colonization, accumulation, the imperial gaze, the inside and outside of the national time, and ambivalences concerning the construction of global geographies. Traditionally speaking, forced migration studies are not often considered to be a site for the examination of global power relations; they are also rarely recognized as a place to develop new theoretical enterprises, methods, or insights concerning global history. However, the field itself has a very direct impact on our understanding of the global political distribution of power and human misery. Do the formulations entertained by the field in effect amount to interventions that shape the academic formulation of geographies of scale? Ultimately, the more the field refrains from using terms such as global violence, the more contentious will become the kind of analysis that it produces using the language of victims, perpetrators, and protectors (Agathangelou and Turcotte 2016). Indeed, critical approaches to force migration studies have to start with epistemic re- positioning of the field. Questions about the geopolitical character of population movements will have to undo the static conception of migration that territorializes, compartmentalizes, and thus creates a fixed point about historically informed and essentially global patterns of violence. This is despite the fact that the regions that are separated from each other as Africa, Asia, Latin America, Middle East, and Eastern Europe are the very locations and destinations whereby seeking refuge is a fact of life rather than being an exception. Forced migration within these geographies led to the proliferation of borderland regimes marking histories of struggle
114 Nergis Canefe and contestation of oppression in the language of geographies of segregation. The perceived geographical immobility of populations in the postcolonial condition is in stark contrast with the fluidity of moving bodies across the Global South which is characterized as an anomaly vis-à-vis the static construction of the state is a fixed geographical site (Banerjee 2010). Furthermore, histories of forced migration written from the perspective of the Global North present gender, race, sexuality, religion, class, and other forms of intersectional identities as separate moments as opposed to providing a holistic understanding of violent inequalities (Chowdhory 2018). The geopolitical imagination naturalizing postcolonial borders and imposing global immobility pushes aside the question of unequal access to resources. Historical forms of denial of justice are portrayed as arbitrary instances that lead to presumably unfathomable crises and waves of disruptions in the Global South. Coming back to the problem of relations of power in knowledge production, the kinds of engagement and critique that are informed by decolonizing practices allow us to interrogate assumptions and presumptions concerning what is deemed as “international” in forced migration studies. Is it the Westphalian state system that sets the limits of what we are to understand from the term “international” in this context? Or is it the grid of international refugee law that perpetually excludes in the name of invitations for future inclusions? In effect, I would go as far as to argue that the term “international” is a dangerous façade which blocks the possibility of disembodying power relations. Instead, it leads to their cyclical containment and reification. Forced migration as vantage point The historical, legal, and methodological dominance of Europe in particular and the Global North in general in forced migration studies has led to the referential coding of the rest of the world as areas of trouble, turmoil, and sites of observable problems in the field (Achiume 2019). The multidisciplinary understanding of forced migration typically rests on the ideals of stable societies and populations contained within their prospective state. Such an understanding conflates forced migration with instability, failed or unjust states, and internally violent societies. Alongside this argument is the staple idea that “the rest of the world”, wherever that is, was external to these central and essential world-historical processes of state- making. Colonial/postcolonial connections and pressures providing the backdrop to these movements are categorically excluded. This grand narrative, rendering forced migration exceptional, violent, crisis-ridden, and culturally specific is squarely Eurocentric in character. It often remains untouched and unquestioned even when the particular histories within it are contested. The experiences of “others” such as societies and communities in South Asia have not been recognized as constitutive of the canonical understanding of forced migration which is mainly dependent upon a formulation that is episode-ridden. The direct contribution of other factors and historical events to this paradigm has rarely been considered within the discipline.
Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies 115 Of course, the empirical reality of colonialism has not been denied outright in the field; instead, it is represented as something that is resolved over time. The societies that were addressed via modernization theory, for example, were societies subject to colonial domination, though neither domination nor resistance to it was a feature in these accounts. However, limitations of theories of statehood embraced by forced migration studies cannot be addressed simply by exposing the posited deficiencies of the field through pluralizing and multiplying narratives of modernity. Seeking to interrogate the field inside out, we need to walk along theorists of dependency and underdevelopment, of Indigenous subjectivities, accompanied by postcolonial and decolonial writers, in order to begin witnessing a shift of focus. Postcolonial critique, which originally emerged from the humanities, has never been about the establishment of separatist trajectories, but rather should be understood as a process of interruption and reconfiguration of our shared stories and histories (Mignolo 2007). In this way, postcolonial and decolonial scholarship can be seen to be integral to the opening out and questioning of the assumptions of dominant discourses and disciplines that are also in question in forced migration studies. However, the formal ending of colonialism and empire as explicit political formations did not lead to an increased recognition of the role that either colonialism or empire played in the formation of modernity and the associated processes of knowledge production. The business of writing and thinking through “connected histories” is not a pleasant one. In this specific context, forced migration as a vantage point may be uniquely appealing. While decolonization, seen through the lens of global mobilities, brings together a remarkable array of arguments concerning historically informed structural injustices; it needs to be complemented with a committed rethinking of forced migration studies as a distinct area of study. Such a rethinking is necessary if we are to take seriously the claims made by various scholars offering methodological interventions. What, for example, are the consequences of the sustained entanglement of colonialism and empire with current cases falling under the purview of forced migration studies? We cannot continue as usual with new case studies creatively framed to ask “new questions” rather than radically reconfiguring the discipline. We cannot account for the missing narratives if we do not acknowledge their place in our shared histories. The inequalities and generational injustices with which forced migration is associated are not cases to be examined. They are histories made and unmade, told and yet silenced. Vignette: The Canadian canon of indigenization as decolonialized academia?
Following the release of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada’s 2015 Calls to Action (National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation 2015, 2019), Canadian universities and colleges have felt significant pressure to “indigenize” their institutions. What “indigenization” has looked like, however, has varied significantly. Indigenization in this context can be considered in a three-part spectrum. On one end is Indigenous inclusion, in the middle reconciliation indigenization,
116 Nergis Canefe and at the far end, there is decolonial indigenization. Despite using reconciliatory language, postsecondary institutions in Canada focus predominantly on Indigenous inclusion and not so much on decolonization. Policy and praxis which are related to treaty-based decolonial indigenization are yet to be entering institutional parlance. The main issue is how to ethically engage Indigenous communities and Indigenous knowledge systems with existing institutional systems of knowledge production and dissemination. Conceptually, indigenization amounts to a move to expand the academy’s current conceptions of knowledge, to include Indigenous perspectives in transformative ways (Kuokkanen 2008). However, what exactly this transformation would look like in practice is a matter of debate. Many Indigenous scholars argue for an indigenization that provokes a foundational and structural shift in the academy, requiring the wholesale overhaul of academic norms, including syllabi and curriculum, to reflect a meaningful relationship with Indigenous nations. For most university administrators, however, such a radical vision of indigenization feels too destabilizing. Instead, universities propose more modest and numerically traceable goals, such as increasing Indigenous student enrolment and hiring more Indigenous faculty and staff. Consequently, indigenization leads to the adaptation of Indigenous people to the current and often alienating culture of the Canadian academy, rather than creating a new, broader consensus on debates such as what counts as academic knowledge. Alternatively, decolonial indigenization envisions the wholesale address of the academy in order to fundamentally reorient knowledge production, balancing power relations between Indigenous peoples and Canadians, and thus transforming the academy into something other than what it is now. Rhetorical adoption of an aspirational vision of reconciliation and indigenization has in fact effects that possibly deepen the status quo as opposed to contesting and changing it, thus leading to the continuation of the unjust exclusion of Indigenous nations from an academic establishment built on top of Indigenous homelands. Decolonial indigenization sees further than the stated “need” to better serve Indigenous students and communities and to better support Indigenous faculty and staff. These are policy measures rather than a program for substantive change. Universities constitute a microcosm of the society and as such, traditionally they have been hostile places for Indigeneity to begin with. Simply including more indigenous bodies will not and cannot change this legacy. Furthermore, indigenous inclusion policies often amount to a vision that ultimately expects Indigenous people to bear the burden of change. They are the ones to propose curricular change, transitional justice mechanisms adapted to the existing academic culture, and find a place for themselves in existing structures. Again as Rauna Kuokkanen argues, Indigenous students and faculty are often expected to “leave their ontological and epistemological assumptions and perceptions at the gates of the university” if they wish to be included in the conversation (Kuokkanen 2008). This discourse assumes the academy is a natural, or at least neutral, place in which human knowledge is already adequately represented and only further advances are to be made.
Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies 117 Suffice to say that research has shown that Indigenous inclusion policies have had a beneficial impact on Indigenous peoples in the academy, most notably on student completion and retention rates. However, this is not decolonizing the Canadian academy. It is part of the reconciliation process and Indigenous students benefiting from supports readily available to all students in academic advising, health, wellness, and accessibility services, having access to specialized, Indigenous- focused services and receiving additional support for learning can hardly be presented as structural changes in Canadian academia. Indigenous inclusion policies are vital components of improving the experiences of Indigenous people on university campuses. However, inclusion policies are not indigenization policies and they certainly do not engage with decolonization of the academia. Indigenous scholars’ calls for wider societies’ engagement in processes of decolonization often start with disruption of colonial research dynamics. The articulation, grounding, and deployment of anticolonial research methodologies and aspiration for decolonizing fields of study or even whole require the development of specific projects of transformation and reversal and assumption of different forms of agency for their actualization. In the words of Elizabeth Carlson, With increasing engagement of white settler scholars in theorizing decolonization, scholars who carry this colonial socialization and the scholarly practices associated with it, it is no surprise to observe theory devoid of its connections to practice (action) and to land. Eurocentric scholarly hegemony venerates detachment and abstraction. Connection to practice is further disrupted by the propensity for those who identify as settler to frame the term as synonymous with non-indigeneity rather than centring its “set of responsibilities and action”. (Carlson 2017) Here, I would like to call for articulation of protocols and strategies of anticolonial and decolonial scholarly practices not with reference to indigenization of the Canadian curriculum but something with wider and in effect global merit, forced migration studies. In the midst of ongoing processes by which Eurocentric and settler-colonial dominance is actively reconstituted as part of the disciplinary geographies of the field, the difference between the “good intentions” of conscientious scholars who want to be a part of the decolonization efforts and the actual impact of their academic activities and outputs speaks truth to power. Anticolonial research methodologies are required to produce scholarship and to ask questions relevant to relationally accountable decolonial change, a task far too challenging for the field as it is. The increasing pace at which new literature on forced migration, refugee and asylum resiliency, precarious labour, and graded schemes of citizenship, as well as global solidarities, is emerging creates the impression that scholars of forced migration studies en masse are breaking entirely new ground and this is without precedent. However, this view is mistaken. The kind of engaged work with a clear focus on decolonization, solidarity building, and anticolonial strategies has been in circulation for decades.
118 Nergis Canefe Neither are explorations of methodological interventions revealing the disparity between the theoretical content and research practices of scholars in the Global North and Global South, a new phenomenon. Seeking to subvert colonialism through the articulation of anticolonial research methodologies, and extending this discussion to the disparities between anticolonial/decolonial commitments and academic practices of established global academia have long found its way to standard curricula on forced migration/international migration/citizenship studies. Denunciations of settler colonialism, as well as its other forms, have become the standard greeting for academic meetings, institutional addressing of the public, and self-identification of scholars (Sinclair 2004). Indeed, my own e-mail signature includes the addendum of: I acknowledge the land on which the York University operates and recognize the longstanding relationships Indigenous nations have with these territories. For thousands of years it has been the traditional land of the Huron-Wendat, the Seneca, and most recently, the Mississaugas of the Credit River. Tkaronto (Toronto) is in the Dish with One Spoon Territory and is home to Indigenous peoples from many nations across Turtle Island who continue to care for this land today. And my students often cite the same text with changes to the tribal names depending on where they currently reside, including what is known as the Canadian cottage country. Indeed, these are called the “ethical demands of settler colonialism” by Alissa Macoun and Elizabeth Strakosch (2013). No doubt, sustained critical analyses of power relations along with the dismantling of inequitable social structures, and solidarity with populations that experience marginalization, dispossession, othering, structural poverty, oppression, and exploitation are lofty tenets, many of which are pronounced in the work produced by forced migration studies scholars North and South. But could these aspirations and aims amount to decolonization of an entire field? I would argue that unless we directly address the extractive, dispossessing, and pathologizing impact of mainstream research practices on colonized peoples, lands, and knowledge; declarations of distancing academia from tainted pasts do not suffice. Decolonization, as a method, emphasizes “other” worldviews, ontologies, and epistemologies as integral to the way we observe, experience, and decipher the world. Historically speaking, it embodies reciprocity, rootedness in land and place, honours self-determination of how we know and what we know, and treats knowledge as relational, seeks accountability, connection, and honours the memory and the present of insurable horrors that mark the way things are today. As such, decolonization requires what Margaret Kovach calls situational appropriateness, which means that it can only be actualized when the whole context is relevant to the questions we ask and the answers we seek (Kovach 2009; Smith 1999). What I suggest is a fundamental reorientation of our research values and practices. The global academy is designed to centre, promulgate, cherish, reward, and accommodate Northern/Eurocentric research practices. The time, planning,
Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies 119 effort, resources, and rigour required for anticolonial and relationally accountable research paradigms, methodologies, and practices cannot naturally happen in institutional settings whereby the status quo is not only normalized but also presented as historically frozen. Decolonizing forced migration studies from the borderlands: From margins to the core In terms of an overview of forced migration studies in the context of South Asia, it is apt to state that we are faced with an impossible task if we were to provide a summary of the kinds of critical scholarly endeavour emanating from the region. However, suffice to say that in this article, the criteria for engaging with this kind of scholarship will not be determined by national contexts but interventions that lead to substantive methodological inquiries (McConnachie 2014). Furthermore, many of the countries in the region remain outside the global refugee regime in terms of established legal norms of international refugee law. Hence the notation of “borderlands” of the Eurocentric refugee protection landscape, a nomination I wish to turn upside down in this section. Does this “informal” and “ad hoc” character of reception of forced migration flows mean that states and societies in the region refuse to grant asylum or host large-scale refugee flows for the last half-century? On the contrary, it only means that national and regional approaches to asylum have not been mediated by formal legal obligations alone. There is a wide range of mass displacement scenarios actualized in the region, certainly not limited to the impact of the partition of India and Pakistan. Indeed, there have been several crises that led to the creation of multiple forms of dispossession and statelessness including development projects across the region (Banerjee 2003, 2005, 2014). In the wider context of hubs of migration, South- South migration, and fluid and unorthodox models of accommodation versus strict juridification of asylum processes, the relationship between histories of international law and refugee law provides a notable entry point to unpack the mystery of why a region so central to understanding modern forms of forced migration is rendered one of the borderlands of the scholarship on the subject. This is not just about cherishing unorthodox approaches to forced migration or the inclusion of settler colonial examples of cleansing in histories of forced migration. Contemporary foundation of the refugee regimes in South Asia was built on the partition of India. Subsequent waves of forced migration across newly created national borders in the region further forced us to conceptualize an alternate definition of refugeehood which is not on par with the dictates of the global refugee regime defined by international law. The kinds of practises that are sanctioned by international institutions in charge of refugee protection are not only Eurocentric but they also have a very specific mandate in terms of delegitimizing any other kind of movement that does not fit into the canon of international law pertaining to state sanctity (see Anghie 2008; Eslava and Pahuja 2012; Mutua 2000). Decolonizing forced migration studies is not a matter of developing plurality in our understanding of what constitutes mobility. As the South Asian postcolonial
120 Nergis Canefe experiences demonstrate, the assumed universality of the global refugee regime presents us with a very limited arsenal of options concerning legitimate forms of protection and humanitarianism. The methods and approaches developed for dealing with mass human suffering and crises in South Asia are never registered in this canon. Developing an alternative frame of reference requires us to destabilize the mainstream narrative concerning international refugee law and undo the presumption that it emanated from an agreement that took place within an order constituted by a formally equal sovereign state. Instead, the key constitutive dynamic of the discipline has to become the colonial/postcolonial experience, as is plainly obvious in the South Asian context. The legal architecture of the global regulation of forced migration is such that international refugee and humanitarian law largely function to the ends of perpetuating historical inequalities and new forms of oppression. The idea of it being utilized as an emancipatory force that may be mobilized on behalf of the excluded, displaced, and oppressed populations thus presents us with a curious paradox. There is no doubt that what is cited as a global refugee regime is an imperfect and incomplete framework providing protection only to select groups of people of concern. The workings of the regime itself reflect a struggle concerning power balances that defined this regime in the first place. If we are to follow B. S. Chimni’s criticism, then the trouble with critiquing international law in general and the global refugee protection and regulation regime in particular, is not so much identifying its Eurocentric origins and impositions. It is what he calls the collective failure to articulate an alternative (Chimni 1998). Recontextualizing forced migration in South Asia may perhaps be one way to shake off the perceived inability for the critical scholarship on forced migration studies to develop a counter vision. This is despite the fact tracks such as India’s employment of alternative protection mechanisms are widely criticized and the country is put on the spot to develop a comprehensive refugee law in tandem with its commitments and obligations to customary international law (Acharya 2016). Notwithstanding this objection, the constitution of India provides the directive for the protection of asylum seekers, nonstatus people, and forced migrants alike. It is true that legislative interventions such as the citizenship amendment act of 2019 should alert us to a degree of indifference towards refugees, as they highlight India’s pragmatic approach to force migration. In fact, since the Tibetan refugee crisis in the early 1960s, India has been rejecting the assertion of an independent oversight body to examine the protection of ways to asylum seekers (Singh 2010). The kind of refugee protection India offered, has been in parallel with nonaccession to international refugee law by many postcolonial states. However, this situation by no means led to denial of access or protection in India or in other South Asian states concerning mass involuntary migration. Just to name a few, following the partition of India in 1947, we can cite the Tibetan crisis and the subsequent influx of refugees during the 1960s, forced migration flows following the Bangladesh liberation war of 1971 and refugees from decades-long Sri Lankan civil war from 1980s onwards; each of these events leading to mass human mobility ultimately
Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies 121 contained within the region. Adding to this tally is the influx of Rohingya refugees from Myanmar since early 2000s and it becomes clear that the hegemonic view of the refugee reception framework, which declares the entire region inapt to deal with mass population flows, is basically repeating the same colonial/postcolonial story of declaring the states constraints’ and varied interpretation of protection regimes as an inherent failure. International law has a colonial ethos which shapes its contemporary institutionalized practices (Falk 2020). In this context, postcolonial South Asia remained as an object of regulation if no longer repression and discipline. Refugee law and its global understanding constitute no exception to this trend of homogenizing all possible legal traditions and subsuming postcolonial identities. South Asia continues to be a site of practices of resistance and struggle against the colonial/ postcolonial imposition of globalized law in a violent world with a violent past and that is why decolonizing forced migration studies could truly benefit from the debates and defiant declarations emerging from South Asia. The South Asian experience is more than a subaltern intervention into the mainstream of international law concerning refugees, dispossession, and displacement. It produced the kind of scholarship that embodies a different approach to what constitutes a global regime of protection. It forces us to recognize that what is excluded as South Asian esoteric practices are indeed an essential part of that very regime. Naming and shaming postcolonial states that contravene the terms of 1951 Convention relating to the Status of Refugees and its 1967 protocol is not only Eurocentric in its strict imposition: It also overrides the fact that refugee reception frameworks pre-existed these international legal instruments. What is often cited as subcontinental defiance, in the case of India, is not so much of a deviant position as perhaps a norm across the Global South of defining their own path in terms of dealing with regular mass human mobility across the postcolonial borders. South Asia is not peripheral to the international refugee regime just like the Middle East never was. The full sense of universalism that emanates from international refugee law has to be put under the decolonizing lens, in order to unpack the doctrines that are doctrinally racial and historically lop-sided. In this specific context, events like the complex and taunting history of the partition of India present a different path in understanding the global dynamics of dispossession and disfranchisement, which resulted from imposed cartographic divisions mapped on peoples and societies of the region. Furthermore local constellations and legal arrangements had to pay attention to postcolonial realities of dispossession: for instance, in Pakistan, the term Mohajir was included as a category in the 1951 census (Ansari 1995; Zamindar 2007). At least in the case of India and Pakistan, it could well be argued that South Asian states adhered to the core principle of nonrefoulement, which corresponds with Article 33 of the 1951 Convention. Ad hoc mechanisms which are constitutionally justified were also used in countering Tibetan, Sri Lankan, and Bangladeshi refugee crises in India; Afghan refugees in Pakistan; and Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh. All these groups had been allowed to cross the national borders either for temporary sanctuary or to receive mid to long-term protection. As to the 1951
122 Nergis Canefe Convention, if it is viewed from the decolonial perspective, the emergence of postcolonial states in what was once colonial territories and the enrolment of former colonial powers in the shaping of this new system of states are important factors leading to the destruction of the societies in the region. The 1951 Convention and its protocol created an idealized image of a refugee, who was primarily a white male, not involved in any form of political violence, but mainly suffering as a victim of societal turmoil. This normalized refugee figure is sharply in contrast with hundreds and thousands of individuals fleeing in masse in the Global South. Why this latter group is considered as disproportionate compared to what is to be expected and why they are characterized as crisis-ridden are questions which need definite methodological answers. Even major events such as the partition of India are characterized as exceptional circumstances rather than being historically framed by the very colonial practices prior to the emergence of postcolonial states. Not only the subcontinent’s experiences of colonial and postcolonial displacement have been rendered peripheral by the very international refugee law, the subsequent waves of displacement and their regional reception continued to be perceived as anomalies. If so, decolonizing forced migration studies means, first and foremost, dismantling the “normal” of international refugee law as well as declaring the figure of the refugee as an insider of the postcolonial state. Conclusion In their 2012 article titled “Decolonization as Metaphor”, Eve Tuck and Wayne Yang argued that there is a lot which is unsettling about decolonization (Tuck and Yang 2012). Decolonization brings about the possibility of the repatriation of Indigenous land and life, which is not at all the same thing as aspiring for social peace and seeking forgiveness and historical closure. Every return induces the dismantling of what was built upon the loss and suffering of others, and hence creates shifts which are not welcome by all. They also insist that decolonization isn’t a metaphor for other things we want to do to improve in our societies. In a similar vein, decolonizing methodologies are costly and often painful endeavours. They are not just an aspiration or a public address of goodwill to make amends with the colonial past. In effect, many of the current practices presented as anticolonial are incommensurable with the tenets of decolonization. As Tuck and Yang suggest, since the mentality of settler colonialism is built upon the triad structure of settler- native-slave, the decolonial desires of white, non-white, immigrant, postcolonial, excluded, marginalized and oppressed peoples are similarly entangled in the original logic of historical legacies of supremacy. The problems I see here regarding a historically engaged and global mapping of forced migration studies, taking my cues from contemporary Canadian takes on decolonization, are related to issues such as reconciling settler guilt, attacking settler complicity, and undoing the rescue of settler futurities but at a different platform. I fully agree with the ethos of subscribing to “an ethic of incommensurability” that recognizes what is distinct and what is sovereign in project(s) of decolonization, in this case, in relation to global movements of dispossession
Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies 123 and displacement. If we are to challenge the way the present is normalized under the weight of multiple pasts, unsettling themes within transnational/Third World decolonization and critical pedagogies readily come to our aid (Escobar 2001; Freire 2000 1987; Johnson 2012). As forced migration scholars in the Global North increasingly declare to have turned to matters of reflexivity, epistemology, and ethics in their research and academic practices, questions which have been raised about how those in positions of privilege ought to situate their knowledge/power and take responsibility for telling singularly focused stories about global mobilities remain unanswered. Positioning scholars of the Global South, such as those who work from within South Asia as constructive participants in decolonizing forced migration studies is the first step forward and it goes hand in hand with what Amar Bhatia and others of TWAIL (Third World Approaches to International Law) persuasion already identified as the only way of academic tourism and voyeuristic research. By working through experiential, imaginative, and narrative moments associated with our work on forced migration in the subcontinent, we can illuminate how to deal with accountability for colonization and colonial complicity in this troubled field of ours. Augmenting conceptualizations of global justice has to begin with acknowledging the power of metaphors in understanding worldmaking practices through dispossession and displacement. For the dispossessed of the Global South, memories of their condition are etched onto the landscapes of a fluid time, through both individual and collective consciousness of communities of the postcolonial condition. These landscapes are not just partitioned territories or porous borders; they harbour knowledge, which has increasingly been pushed aside by the “gray uniformity” of “internationalized” forced migration studies and its progenitor: European colonization. It is within the multiplicity of narratives emanating from these very places that we can glimpse alternatives to the oppressive charting of borderlands, as exceptions to the core history of capitalism, modernism, and the ethos of the state. Destroying the roots of a field firmly embedded within Eurocentric toponyms, standing against the proposition of a historical terra nullius for each wave of displacement, is no easy matter. As Paulo Freire invites us to do, we must decode “the images of our own concrete, situated experiences with the world” (Freire and Macedo 1987). Decolonizing forced migration studies, similar to the counter reading of what it does not mean in the Canadian context of Indigenous knowledges, has to start with the recognition of the very experiences of displaced communities not as singular experiences but as grounded in shared histories, stories and postcolonial politics of place. South Asia stands tall in this regard as one region which insistently sought to reinhabit the partitioned lands and borders as sites of injury and exploitation, rather than completion. References Acharya, B. (2016). “The future of asylum in India: Four principles to appraise recent legislative proposals”. National University of Juridical Sciences, Kolkata, Law Review, 9, 173.
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Decolonizing Forced Migration Studies 125 Johnson, J. T. (2012). “Place-based learning and knowing: Critical pedagogies grounded in Indigeneity”. GeoJournal, 77(6), 829–836. Kovach, M. (2009). Indigenous methodologies: Characteristics, conversations and contexts. University of Toronto Press. Kuokkanen, R. (2008). “Globalization as racialized, sexualized violence”. International Feminist Journal of Politics, 10(2), 217 (p.2), DOI: 10.1080/14616740801957554. Macoun, A. & Strakosch, E. (2013). “The ethical demands of settler colonial theory”, Settler Colonial Studies, 3(3–4), 44. Mair, J., & Evans, N. H. (2015). “Ethics across borders: Incommensurability and affinity”. HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory, 5(2), 201–225. McConnachie, K. (2014). “Forced migration in South-East Asia and East Asia”. In The Oxford handbook of refugee & forced migration studies. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 626–638. Mutua, M. (2000). “What is TWAIL?” Proceedings of the ASIL Annual Meeting, 94, 31–38. Cambridge University Press. Mignolo, D. W. (2002). “The geopolitics of knowledge and the colonial difference”. South Atlantic Quarterly, 101(1), 57–96. Mignolo, D. W. (2007). “Delinking: The rhetoric of modernity, the logic of coloniality and the grammar of de-coloniality”. Cultural Studies, 21(2–3), 449–514. Mignolo, D. W. (2009). “Epistemic disobedience, independent thought and decolonial freedom”. Theory, Culture & Society, 26(7–8), 159–181. Mignolo, D. W., & Escobar, A. eds. (2013). Globalization and the decolonial option. Routledge. National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation. (2015, 2019). TRC Website: Truth and Reconciliation Website. https://nctr.ca/about/history-of-the-trc/trc-website/ Quijano, A. (2000). “Coloniality of power and Eurocentrism in Latin America”. International Sociology, 15(2), 215–232. Samaddar, R. (2015). “Zones, corridors, and postcolonial capitalism”. Postcolonial Studies, 18(2), 208–221. Samaddar, R. (2020). The Postcolonial Age of Migration. Routledge India. Sinclair, R. (2004). “Aboriginal social work education in Canada: Decolonizing pedagogy for the seventh generation”, First People’s Child and Family Review. 1(1), 49, http://journ als.sfu.ca/fpcfr/index.php/FPCFR/article/view/10/41 Singh, P. (2010). “Indian international law: from a colonized apologist to a subaltern protagonist”. Leiden Journal of International Law, 23(1), 79–103. Smith, L. T. (1999). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous peoples. London: Zed Books. Tuck, E., &Yang, K. W. (2012). “Decolonization is not a metaphor”. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society, 1(1), 1–40. Xavier, S., Jacobs, B., Waboose, V., Hewitt, J. G., Bhatia, A, eds. (2021). Decolonizing law: Indigenous, Third world and settler perspectives (1st ed.). Routledge. Zamindar, V. F. Y. (2007). The long partition and the making of modern South Asia: refugees, boundaries, histories. Columbia University Press.
Part III
Intersectional Decolonization and a Struggle for Recognition and Empowerment
7 Beyond Multiculturalism Minority Intellectuals in the Postsocialist Predicament of Southeast Europe Francesco Trupia
Introduction Much has been written about multiculturalism and minority rights in Southeast Europe after the dissolution of the socialist regimes. Since 1989, however, the massive decline of the quality of democracy in the last years has replaced the euphoria that kicked off the transition toward a full-fledged democratization. The revival of ubiquitous histories of ethno-nationalism has hijacked the discourse over the protection of human rights, the division of power, and pluralism in support of order and social cohesion against external subjects, antinational actors, and cosmopolitanism. Considered as unsustainable in the postsocialist predicament (Enyedi 2020), liberal democracy and its multicultural model have thus become the proverbial elephant in the room. A rampant distrust toward the role of the civil society has shifted its gears along with the assumption that minorities of all sorts have got special privileges and their demands “have gone too far” (Castellino 2018: 350; Murray 2018: 94). Many have denied any success of multiculturalism in Southeast Europe and beyond (Sampson 2002), others have nevertheless paid lip service to the need of establishing a better and stronger multicultural society vis-à-vis the executive powers (Enyedi 2020: 369). While in the 1990s, the mantra of returning to Europe went hand in hand with distinguishing normative modes of inhabiting diversity and thereby avoiding aberrant phenomena of tribalism (Atanasoski 2013: 34), ethnic particularism subtly captured the anti/decolonial discourse across the region. Viktor Orbán’s misuse of the 1848 slogan “We will not be a colony” against the bureaucracy of Brussels, the new Moscow, and the threat of terrorism by immigrants (Vermeersch 2019: 117) have also influenced the grandiose, somewhat elusive and highly malleable, claims for more sovereignty in Southeast Europe. The spectre of secessionism still haunting Bosnia and Herzegovina, the diatribe over the Kosovo statehood yet unsettled, and lately, Bulgaria’s cultural veto against North Macedonia, show how old wounds have remained unhealed. It, therefore, appears rather problematic to think that the same region has remained at the centre of benevolent programs implemented by an extremely high number of charities, donors, and international aid networks working in praise of democratization. DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-11
130 Francesco Trupia The problem of civil society has never necessarily been its absence, nor its unpreparedness to tackle major concerns. On the contrary, it has been the decline of its role which has seen many actors that had mushroomed within civil society, be easily absorbed and patronized by the (pre-)existing terrain of hegemonic rhetoric and practices (Laclau 2000: 48; Voza 2018: 2; Sampson 2002: 28). Concerning minority issues, among others, studies do not only show how internal demands have been toned down and overlooked. They also particularly unravel how minority élites have found different avenues to secure one’s resources (Wunsh 2018: 163) by uncritically re-evaluating the role of the State (Enyedi 2020: 369), thereby squeezing European grants, benefiting from social assistance, and achieving comfortable socialization with power and control. Relatedly, many of the intellectuals and activists advocating minority rights, are themselves members of subaltern groups about which, and from which, they write and speak. Yet they remain the beneficiaries of a benevolent form of colonialism (Sampson 2002: 32) stemming from the “progressive” interventions of the liberal state, which, in order to survive, has to rely on the opposition of critical voices throughout the whole society. This benevolent colonialism no longer displays the violent facets of traditional European colonialism, but it similarly penetrates systems of knowledge and intragroup dynamics by subtly reinforcing images of helplessness, backwardness, and hopelessness over unschooled traditional institutions and poorly maintained civil organizations. Granted that, this article does not reject the societal model of multiculturalism by default. Nor does it stand against the idea of strengthening the NGO sector and other bottom-up strategies of civic society organizations (CSOs). It rather contends that, in Southeast Europe and other postsocialist countries, a taken-for-granted assumption over the success of liberal multiculturalism has not merely handed the discourse of diversity and universality to ethno-nationalist actors. Rather, it has dangerously allowed the latter to perform a simple act of political mimicry by borrowing both strategies and objectives of minority discourse with the scope of warning about some sort of external and universal majority positing a threat to the nations (Krastev and Holmes 2020; Vermeersch 2019: 120). Hence, it is argued that the postsocialist democratization cannot be associated with western neoliberalism uncritically –especially in the provinces, in the local council, among the local politicians and their party cliques. Furthermore, a serious critique needs to avoid the naïve celebration of classic liberalism along with the frivolous ideas that the triumph of democracy will turn the postsocialist fatigue into a radiant future ahead (Tamás 2009: 30). The following sections will unpack Antonio Gramsci’s lexicon in order to juxtapose it with the current crisis of multiculturalism in Southeast Europe. From the perspective of Gramsci’s theory of hegemony and civil society, the latter is particularly relevant as a centre of gravity of any “universal class” arising a political momentum of radical change which, metaphorically, recalls a powerful system of fortresses and earthworks (Gramsci 1971: 238). In other words, Gramsci’s civil society does not make room for the reconciliation of the whole society with its own essence, but rather constitute a momentum of political reactivation of “unpolitical”
Beyond Multiculturalism 131 subaltern cultures, to turn them into politicized counter-subaltern cultures (Marchart 2018: 122). Thus, focusing on a few cases in Southeast Europe, this article argues that most of actions undertaken in favour of minority (e.g. subaltern) groups recuperate a State-led form of benevolent colonialism which penetrates the methods of doing politics and thereby engulfing any grassroots dynamic of civic mobilization and change (Sampson 2002: 32). Against the above, the first section knowingly overlooks the problem of whether or not subalterns can speak, as Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s most famous essay pointed out (Spivak 1988). Instead, it raises the question of how subalterns can speak, and in praise of whom they can do so? Staged as an attempt to avoid the fight between the middle class and the rest (Tamás 2009: 37), this inquiry is more precisely focused to have a critical look at the domain of liberal multiculturalism, which is the domain of ideology. It is therefore attempted to venture the normative parapet of how majority-minority relations are schematized around the legal norms and moral behaviour of “tolerating” and “being tolerated” (Žižek 2018: 230). Hence, how can minority (subaltern) groups create themselves the conditions for pursuing a truly egalitarian politics and dialogue with the cultural majoritarian system? Is some kind of counter-violence needed to render visible what is wrong in their entire socio-political situation? (Žižek 2019: 225). In the attempt of answering to these questions, the second section advances the sophisticated and mass-popular Gramscian analysis of the actorness of intellectuals and their societal functions in Southeast Europe. It is here argued that Gramsci’s analysis of the formation of intellectuals shines a spotlight on a wealth of minority leaderships whose coming into existence unravels the original terrain of organic and traditional functions of contestation and organization of potential awakening. With the scope of scrutinizing intragroup relations of subordination vis-à-vis the State’s hegemon actors, Gramsci’s lexicon is still paramount if placed at the centre of the current crisis of the relations of minority political representation and the same system of representation. Gramsci’s philosophy of praxis thus helps to better unravel mechanisms of power (e.g. subalternity) and control (hegemony/ culturalization) that minority groups in Southeast Europe are particularly concerned with. Since minority intellectuals are also hand-picked by the State-driven hegemonic discourse and nested intragroup relations, Gramsci’s notion of civil society along with his interpretation of the leading role of intellectuals can rethink a potential way out of this conundrum. Multiculturalism and its discontents If we agree that Gramsci needs no introduction, yet dealing with his vocabulary is undoubtedly a mammoth task due to a large number of slippery and unclear paradigms that he himself could not, even in theory, systematically organize (Irves 2004: 37). Within the postcolonial readership, Spivak largely misled the philosophical meaning ascribed to the term “subaltern”. Spivak’s (mis)understood “subaltern” as a military thing (Spivak and De Kock 1992), later framed in the so-called “censorship thesis” (Green 2011), assuming that the Italian Marxist had to mock
132 Francesco Trupia his writings through a series of code-words in order to avoid the Fascist prison censorship. Since both terms –namely, “subaltern class” and “proletariat” (Notebook n.13) – appear throughout the Prison Notebooks (1971), there is no indication of the use of any code-word or euphemism in Gramsci’s theorized roadmap for the Italian masses and Communist Party. However, it should be pointed out that Gramsci left unclear whether subalterns are a particular social group or a class, or whether they reflect or move beyond the societal conditions of Karl Marx’s proletariat, or even whether their intragroups relations can be at best handled through class/group alliances (Adamson 1980: 212). Granted that, Joseph Buttigieg’s translation of the Prison Notebooks (Gramsci 1971) remains a milestone for better putting Gramsci’s lexicon into perspective. Within the domain of cultural studies, indeed, the legacy of Gramsci’s “philosophy of non-philosophers” has thus proven to foresee unexpected horizons (Frosini 2020: 279). The renowned theory of hegemony cannot be dialectically detached from the theory of civil society. Both constitute the terrain in which Gramsci’s philosophy of praxis unfolds itself across time and space. Tellingly, Norberto Bobbio extended the Gramscian conception of civil society, which does not belong to the structural moment but the superstructural one (Bobbio 1979: 30). By placing Gramsci’s Marxism out of the traditional orthodoxy, Bobbio advanced the idea that the whole theory of civil society could even enter the liberal space after the crisis of Italian and European Marxism during the 1970s and the 1980s (Del Roio 2007: 63–71). For instance, the conception of hegemony as the terrain where every political relation is constituted (Laclau 2000: 44), lies in the potential of new leadership. More precisely, hegemony is a horizon of opportunities for those who may participate in it and thereby create a condition for which subaltern actors –namely, those lacking representation and capability of being represented – can become major in the political and cultural arena. While both distinct spaces overlap each other, the political form of hegemony relates to the material power of the ruling élites, whose capability of maintaining control is legitimized through the use of coercive measures throughout the whole society. On the parallel side, instead, the cultural form of hegemony develops through a subtle and implicit mechanism of control that does not rest on the material force but influences the realm of ideology (Gramsci 1971; Žižek 2000; Mkrtchyan and Hovnannisyan 2016; Laclau and Mouffe 1985). Hence, cultural hegemony exercises itself through culture-centred domination composed of a system of moral norms and values within a certain societal form of intellectual leadership (Gramsci 1971: 57), whereas the political hegemony is constituted by the intellectual and moral unity of the dominant social group over a series of subaltern groups (Gramsci 1971: 181–182). Paraphrasing yet again the Italian Marxist, many currently accuse the societal model of liberal multiculturalism for becoming the new socio-cultural hegemony (König 2001). Suspicion often falls on those attempts of promoting certain cultural diversity as means to legitimize minority policies of differentiation, which have been recuperated by the State’s language of ethnicism (Tamás 2016) imposing a direction of what people think, who they think they are, and how they socially must behave. Regardless of
Beyond Multiculturalism 133 the simple designation of social class, or ethnic and religious groups, this “common sense” hosts an array of subalterns who uncritically reproduce conceptions of the world they have been ascribed to. They are, in a few words, absorbed by various social and cultural environments typical of the average man (Adamson 1980: 86). As follows, minority groups contribute de facto to their status of subordination, which is a societal condition systematically fabricated across topographies and temporalities of liberal multiculturalism. In this regard, Gramsci highlighted the role of language as the main vehicle of the State to impose such a “common sense” and dominate social structures of thought (Steedman 2004). Nowadays, the Gramscian assertion of “common sense” operates likewise. By identifying a specific group with a series of arguably one’s own cultural features and historical legacies, out of which recognition and rights are granted, the (neo)liberal predicament of multiculturalism has deepened separateness in praise of one’s “pure” state of identity. Classifying polyethnic, immigrant, and national minorities in line with cultural patterns and every culture’s shades (Kymilcka 1995; Hys 2004) has largely weaponized identity politics along essentialist lines, turning issues of diversity into a purely uncritical image of majority-minority traditions, folklore, rites and so forth (Marchart 2018: 123). This holds particularly true whereby “ethnicity” has been used for speculating about postsocialist societies. Liberal multiculturalism has thus fertilized the terrain to “meta-racism” (Balibar and Wallerstein 1991) by postulating a legitimated presence of a “superior tolerator” vis-à-vis another “to be tolerated”. As long as “the other” is recognized as such, a moral and benevolent set of superior values and ethics is allowed to tolerate; hence, the tolerator simply possesses such a form of tolerance by being allowed to perform it, yet pre-empting “the tolerated” from their political subjectivity and identity (Trupia 2019). The sense of agency of “the tolerated” is robbed, too, since “the tolerant” keeps the tolerated under false protection (Žižek 2018: 179–224). As a matter of fact, the latter form of tolerance does not tolerate, nor does it assimilate. It rather (re)produces an asymmetric relation of power and social hierarchies from the State through the civic society, in which subaltern actors are culturally digested even by those who are supposed to speak on their behalf (Gramsci 1971: 10). Moreover, in Southeast Europe, the phenomena of professionalization and institutionalization of civil society and intrasociety relations (Wunsch 2018: 33) no longer make room for exchanging ideas and lessons learned to counteract the State. Both have turned communities into trade unions of individual interests (Fanon 2001), whose spokespeople and representatives have become the entrepreneurs of identities and managers of the political will of a given collective. Assumed as a distortion of the realm of ethno-politics, the latter is, in turn, functioning through subtler mechanisms of veiled race-politics. Within this, ethnic factors move beyond identity politics and operate as a racial episteme that informs varied contexts (Suchland 2021: 22) where particular features matter only because they have a political meaning attached to them (Saini 2019: 79). Although the category of race has been mistakenly overlooked for its arguably obvious political baggage, in Southeast Europe race-politics and ethno-politics seem to mirror each other. Many
134 Francesco Trupia scholars dealing with minority issues in the region assert that scholarly reliance on the American notions of race is out of place (Resnick, Rucker-Chang, West Ohueri 2021; Bjelić 2021). However, as Elana Resnick argues that this is exactly the phenomenon that needs to be studied as denials of race and racialized hierarchies is an assertion of white supremacy (Resnick et al. 2021). After all, the ethnicity and race studies were both born out of a certain order and unfolded on the ruins of previous regimes where different political actions had no experience of liberal models of society. While subalterns and leaders were clearly stated, ethnicity has rather been used in Southeast Europe for classifying cultural differences. At the intersection of science and politics, culture and economics, the category of race mirrors that of ethnicity not only as a way of measuring human progress but also as an instrument to place judgement on the capacities and the rights of others. In this, paraphrasing Gramsci’s discourse on race from his Southern Question, subalterns and their agencies are amorphous and disintegrated due to being trapped by their organic incapacity, barbarity, and inferiority to establish themselves into the economic and societal model of a nation (2004: 3) where they can be uplifted from their subalternity. Ironically, liberal multiculturalism has provided nativist voices and nationalists with the vocabulary to twist the “category of difference” through a considerable process of inflation (Laclau 2000: 76). While communism and liberal democracy are both considered authoritarian for trying to impose a postnational, antireligious, and progressive model of society, subaltern voices and agencies escape the theoretical and methodological toolkit for a radical change by being caught by a discourse that does not uplift them from their subalternity. Reckoning socialist legacies Similar to the idea of thinking of full-fledged democratization of Southeast Europe within the neoliberal predicament, a societal model of liberal multiculturalism has likewise associated the actorness of public intellectuals with values and ideals of classic liberalism. However, it should be pointed out that the postsocialist condition has largely shown that, in some sense, the real crisis of most public intellectuals deepened after the dissolution of the socialist regimes (Langdon, Luber, and Shore 2019: 42). In accepting the end of history on both cultural and political ground, Gáspár Miklós Tamás noticed that, in some Eastern Bloc countries, one of the difficulties was that intellectuals and critics had welcomed the return to Europe by opposing whatsoever the socialist experience and its legacy. The long tradition of critical Marxists and leftist dissidents has not only been ideologically castrated from the party apparatus years before 1989 but also neutered it self in a wealth of intellectual positions in the postsocialist society. From Weberian “modernising” theories to aestheticism, from nationalism to socialization of new party cadres, the post-1989 “new” Marxist thinkers instrumentally distanced themselves from “old” party members from the 1950s and 1960s who had never read Marxist literature in their life (2009: 35). Yet, while “new” Marxist intellectuals were committed to liberal programs to simply oppose a large number of recycled political figures who
Beyond Multiculturalism 135 positioned themselves on the left and centre-left side of their respective country’s political spectrum since the early 1990s, yet another group of intellectuals genuinely stood on the liberal side. Among them, many had travelled to the West in the 1970s and 1980s and got acquainted with liberalism and capitalist societies in order to foresee how the Western normalcy would have soon looked like in their countries (Krastev and Holmes 2020). In post-Yugoslavian countries, the recent rise of the Balkan left had not only to oppose nationalist sentiments praising the social achievements of the previous Communist regimes. This legacy could not but plague any attempt of a genuine, antinationalist left-wing politics open also to the demands of ethnic and sexual minorities, as well as to alternative lifestyle and critical theory approaches that have been almost entirely discouraged in the wider public. In other words, the global zeitgeist of the 1990s generally dismissed socialist ideas and bordered on anti-Communist hysteria in the region (Štiks and Stojaković 2021: 13–22), consigning to the oblivion a long tradition of knowledge transfer between Western and Eastern Europe (Tamás 2009), as well as between the formerly Communist bloc’s dissidents and the Global South. In Southeast Europe, public intellectuals have managed to theorize a series of models and methods of cultural autonomy and political representation throughout the whole society. Currently, the massive democratic backsliding echoes a further shrinking of the space for intellectuals, whose expertise and critical insights, could neither tone down populist voices nor replace their nativist rhetoric especially in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic (Katsambekis and Stavrakakis 2020: 3). Tellingly, the epidemiological crisis further fertilized a pre-existing terrain of misbeliefs and misconceptions toward suspicious state-run mechanisms of human security that made bigger room for conspiracy theories in Southeast Europe (BiePAG 2020). If before 1989 intellectuals were instrumental in the various national awakenings and drives for people’s self-determination, the post-1989 transition saw many critics as well as academics and public intellectuals undergoing social rearrangements to achieve one’s strategy of change and prevent others from achieving theirs (Sampson 2002: 30). This holds particularly true among minority groups of all sorts to which the roadmap of recognition and empowerment would have opened, in theory, the greatest window of opportunities, but was weakened, in practice, by great losses during democratization (Ilisei 2017: 57). Having said that, it should also be pointed out that minority intellectuals have not deemed it necessary to detach themselves from both states’ public policies, nor do they disentangle their communities from mechanisms of state capture and dependency on international aid programs. As time has passed by, the latter and the former have penetrated the civic society at large, operating through their western donors and their ethnocentric views bearing limited affinities to the reality of majority- minority interactions (Devic 2006: 258). In this regard, public minority policies have been de facto drawn and problematized by experts and community leaders for rocking the boat. Voices of dissent have remained either on the margins or incorporated within state-run campaigns of solidarity and integration where social issues have been misleadingly centred on identity. This “heaven to hell” situation (Wunsh 2018: 33) highlights the managerial approach that community leaders and
136 Francesco Trupia intellectuals have employed in the calculation of striving and surviving, looking after those they are closest to, and seeking out interests from within the communities they speak in praise of. It should not come as a surprise that ideas of pluralism and multiculturalism are nowadays riddled with frustration, defeatism, and often with an apparently intellectual feeling of self-righteousness by those who used to promote them. Within the wider public, the idea that evolved in the hands of very talented East European intellectuals to single out the proportions of social representation and full-fledged recognition (Mungiu-Pippidi 2010: 70), has seemingly become part of the problem, not the solution. Yet again, Viktor Orbán’s rhetoric over indigenous nation-majorities is instructive to show how Hungary’s state campaigns for the protection of all Hungarians exclude “national foreigners”, such as feminist collectives, LGBTQI+ activists, cosmopolitans, philanthropists, or newcomers. Orbán’s liberal figure has craved power and popularity by figuring out an arsenal of strategies to attain and retain power from a liberal stance, namely, asserting the naivety of liberal multiculturalism by twisting relations of subordination (Laclau and Mouffe 1985) on a national and European level. If “Orbánisation” teaches anything, the main lesson to learn from it proves that intellectuals and cultural pioneers can neither take for granted their special status within a nation or a class/group nor they can culturally impose external formulas that patronize. On the contrary, they might make their voices heard on the political ground by negating their current subalternity and State-run practices of exclusion with the scope of destabilizing effects on existing, and already utterly ossified, democratic arrangements. Organic, traditional, and minority intellectuals Regardless of the above, Southeast Europe remains a goldmine of intellectuals and an important laboratory of ideas and practices being created in the European context (Kerskim and Reichardt 2019: 12). It is here, in fact, that the term “intellectual” along with the adjective “subaltern” reminds of a debate introduced by Antonio Gramsci along with his theory of hegemony and condition of subalternity. “Intellectual” is yet another term of the Gramscian vocabulary that needs a proper, philosophical explanation. In Gramsci’s eyes, intellectuals had fundamental differences from what they meant to the Hegelian-Marxist scholarship. Beyond economic factors, the role of intellectuals is centrally paramount to negate any condition of subalternity in the arena of sociality and politics vis-à-vis the State. Whereby the above- mentioned “common sense” is manifested and enacted, intellectuals must necessarily become aware of the contradictions of the realm they live in thereby leading the process of becoming hegemonic. Wherever impulses of awakening and desire for struggling are co-opted and dominated, the role of intellectuals is that of active participants in the terrain of hegemony (Trupia 2020). Acting as “permanent persuaders”, they are the moral and intellectual reformists capable of negating the material and socio-cultural realm of their subalternity (Del Roio 2007: 70–71). Within the terrain of hegemony, their (e.g. intellectual) capacity to negate ontologically, negates their political identity of subaltern actors
Beyond Multiculturalism 137 they have been ascribed to; hence, at the same time, they reactivate the “political” character which has been previously “depoliticised” (Marchart 2018: 135). In Gramscian terms, such as double-negation is a literary marriage of theory and practice (Adamson 1980: 51), leading to the emancipation of subaltern groups. Therefore, the role of intellectuals cannot be merely recognized as such along traditional lines, but as a collective élite of awakeners paving the way to a new horizon. The role of subaltern intellectuals cannot equalize that of “intellectualism”. Against this epistemological pitfall, a valid critique on the error to distinguish intellectuals should reflect the intrinsic nature of subalterns’ intellectual activities (Kearney and Rainwater 1996: 186). What appears to be a traditional and vulgarized type of distinction cannot be considered as a line along which intellectuals and nonintellectuals differentiate from one another. Whether or not intellectuals can perform muscular-nervous or culture-oriented efforts, is not a subject of discussion. In fact, the term “intellectual” was coined and employed by Gramsci distinctively from the typically old-fashioned Marxist tradition. In a few words, intellectuals may lead a new historical bloc to mature and arise; intellectuals do not always refer to the concrete economic-industrial bases shaping strata between members of society, but rather belong to two distinct groups –namely “organic” and “traditional”. The crucial difference between these two Gramscian categories is identified through their respectively different performativity and nature of leadership (Hovhannisyan et others 2016: 114). In general, an intellectual cannot be only identified as a teacher, an academic, a man of letters, but as anyone who can lead the change beyond a merely numerical understanding of becoming more (Adamson 1980: 50; Marchart 2018: 135). According to Gramsci, every man is an intellectual because he is equipped with the intellectual capacities of transforming the given status quo. All men are therefore intellectuals since their nature is deep-rooted in the homo faber –namely, a person capable to create and transform the given nature who cannot be detached from the societal role of the homo sapiens (Kearney and Rainwater 1996: 187). The actions of an intellectual ensure the triumph of the capability to act anytime and on every locality and site of potential antagonism (Marchart 2018: 122). In particular, however, when Gramsci foresaw a distinction between the “organic” and “traditional” intellectual, he also looked upon the ensemble of the system of intragroup relationships and dynamics that both typologies of intellectuals can contribute to the creation of activities resulting directly from a socio-cultural positionality that they differently and (un)consciously hold from within the same social groups. If juxtaposed with the political reluctance and minority disenfranchisement in Southeast Europe, Gramsci’s analysis of the actorness of intellectuals signals an issue of political representation. On the one hand, the formation of community leaders seems clear when it comes to figuring out how a leading group of awakeners can come into being (Raud 2016: 390). On the other hand, Gramsci precisely thought of a parallel community composed of intellectuals with organic and traditional functions that correlate one upon the other. While the former are generally drawn from the latter (Adamson 1980: 121), cultural and political representation remains yet another major concern. To a certain extent, minority organic
138 Francesco Trupia intellectuals can play a so-called “logic of consequences” through socio-political actions which are oriented toward an instrumental maximization of their benefits and minimization of risks over their status in the wider public. Southeast Europe’s minority groups are no exception in this instance. Among others, Bulgaria’s and Romania’s Roma members have always been stigmatized as “vote sellers” and ascribed through images of apathy with regard to political participation. Although in both countries, external pressure could encourage implementation on the ground of existing public policies, care has not ensured the protection of Roma communities from being blamed for delays in integration within the wider societies. Likewise, the Movement for Rights and Freedoms (MRF) – namely, the de facto Turkish party in Bulgaria –represents an enigma-within-an-enigma (Leview-Sawyer 2015) due to its posture within the political spectrum. While Roma people are accused of spoiling the healthcare system and other social benefits, the MFR has been always accused of stocking interethnic enmity anytime. Along the same line, the main Serb minority political party in Kosovo –namely, Srpska Lista (Serbian List) – has keenly backed Serbia in its role of representation of the Kosovo Serb minority. The Serbian List remains de facto the only organization that manages certain political performativity of the Serbian minority on the political and institutional ground. Nevertheless, these examples highlight how minority representatives are emanated from the hegemonic logic of power and control. Similar to what Gramsci himself noticed among the peasantry, masses of subalterns residing in rural areas, as well as peripheries and borderlands, do not succeed to elaborate their own organic intellectuals (mentioned by Kearney and Rainwater 1996: 185). This is why critical and prominent intellectuals among Kosovo Serbs have been systematically ostracized from having a say on the reconciliation between Serbia and Kosovo, and even not invited to attend recent official roundtables (Tadić 2019: 252–254). This scenario is also instructive for yet another and larger groups of subaltern actors, such as liberals and seculars within Muslim communities, LGBTQIs, and women’s rights activists, who lack representation. Within this subaltern counter-publics (Fraser 1992), minority organic intellectuals appear keen on circulating a counter, oppositional, and confrontational interpretation of community interests and needs. However, the common apathy and minority disenfranchisement of ordinary community members deceive any awakening or collaboration with their representative figures on a political level. Such lack of representation shows one of the conundrums of liberal multiculturalism. The evolution of the politics of diversity has not only been curtailed by often reluctant leaders and intellectuals who have turned the discourse over difference into entrepreneurial strategies of representation. When manifested, minority representation cannot but establish a set of intragroup and hierarchical relations that, allows organic minority intellectuals to hijack traditional minority intellectuals from succeeding to elaborate their demands in accordance with their system of knowledge and values, as well as aspirations and needs. Awakening thus falls systematically into a subtler form of organic assimilation which is, albeit officially within the sphere of minority interests and demands, ideological domination of traditional minority intellectuals at the grassroots level (Gramsci 1971: 10;
Beyond Multiculturalism 139 Marchart 2018). Such a disenfranchisement of traditional intellectuals, however, does not theoretically exclude organic intellectuals from potentially repaving a condition of possibilities (Laclau 2000: 80). Although minority traditional intellectuals are trapped by their organic functions of stabilization, they nonetheless endow with a character of their own which may potentially unfold an awaking leadership of the organization and collective being (Marchart 2018: 192). They are potentially independent and autonomous from the dominant social group. What is at stake their uncritical thinking of being “independent” and therefore their political and cultural autonomy from hegemonic and organic (e.g. intellectual) force? Traditional intellectuals do not only shield functional democratic institutions and even effective governance from potentially destabilizing, and democratically invigorating, contestation (Cianetti and Hanley 2021). They rather perpetuate an external ascription emanated by the State’s dominant group and its deputies, namely, organic intellectuals who impose a moral direction in the social and political fields (Gramsci 1971: 12). To a certain extent, Gramsci understood how the large majority of intellectuals remain organically subaltern to the State’s hegemonic functions of coercion and consensus. Within a minority group, organic intellectuals thus serve as members of the “party” –one which is linked with local élites competing for exerting control over community resources such as money, knowledge, and ideas (Fanon 2001: 105). As usual, the term “party” is not used by Gramsci in its typical socio-political sense. In other words, the characterization of the “party” does not recall any political entity, nor a space within which organic minority intellectuals confront the requirement of their political typologies. On the contrary, the term “party” signifies the primacy of the superstructure over the structure. Therefore, organic minority intellectuals are more likely to be authorized and legitimized by “the party” to keep up with playing their role of community colonizers rather than that of awakeners and persuaders in a potential momentum of contestation. Hence, traditional intellectuals who usually belong to peasantry and artisanship, or eventually are affiliated with rural or a local petite bourgeoisie, develop an atavistic and instinctive habit of distrusting political figures even from the community they are a member of. Moreover, while minority organic intellectuals reproduce predicable messaging that hands together in their respective ideological bubbles only (Langdon, Luber, and Shore 2019: 30), relations of subordination onto minority traditional intellectuals are institutionalized and constitute the very fabric of benevolent internal colonialization. On the one hand, the rhetoric of representation unfolds within the community, and on the other hand, none can concretely set in motion any disruptive action against their subordinated human conditions. A quest of a new paradigm? Although minority (e.g. subaltern) groups compose an extremely heterogeneous, complex organism of services and needs, their (un)consciously reproduction of hegemonic, and dominant discourse impinge on strengthening their conditions of
140 Francesco Trupia subalternity. When they often criticize dominant classes, their operability remains not only feeble to the dominant groups but even instrumental to the rhetoric of the latter. It might not come as a surprise that young Viktor Orbán’s admiration for Antonio Gramsci-inspired theory of civil society, helped Fidesz to return to power in 2010 after eight years in opposition (Krastev and Holmes 2020: 68). Reintroducing Gramsci’s analysis on the crisis of the relations between representation and the parties, is relevant for addressing the confluences of crises in nearly all spheres of multiculturalism and minority politics. As the model of multiculturalism in Southeast Europe routinely rests upon recognizing identity makers to smooth inequality and marginalization, Gramsci’s changing paradigm of subalternity is needed for refraining scholars and critics from addressing minority issues exclusively as socio-cultural concerns, and focusing solely on strategies of inclusion which do not even simply depend on matters of identity and self- identification. In a time when politics appears much less mediated than usual in the postsocialist predicament, Southeast Europe’s wide-ranging minority issues need to be “strategized” in the realm of everyday life vis-à-vis their fundamental characterization of lack, dislocation, and incompleteness (Marchart 2018: 110). Gramsci here looks at the socio-political and cultural conditions of subordination/ subalternity, which, as mentioned above, do not reflect a whole range of regional concerns necessarily articulated in politics. Tolerance and solidarity, among others, cannot be “schematised” in accordance with cultural and legal means of inclusion, to make them part of their living (minority) experiences. On the contrary, from both on a cultural and political ground, Gramsci explains how minority issues should repave the way to a space of confrontation, out of which intersectional identities can internally activate themselves through an antagonism able to (re)ground externally ascribed positionalities of subaltern groups. In this regard, Antonio Gramsci’s philosophy of praxis provides a still-relevant roadmap through which subaltern intellectuals of minorities of all sorts can lead themselves toward a new space of discourse and existence. In order to do so, however, the enquiry of investigation should place at the centre the absence of a radical resistance, a “war of position” in Gramsci’s terms, to the manipulation of minority demands and instrumentalization of their cultural rights in the intellectual milieu. Quoting Francis Fanon here, a very well-known reader of Gramsci’s work, the verb “to lead” can be understood in line with the French translation “to drive” (2001: 148), thereby following coherently up the Gramscian sense of the Italian verb “dirigere” –namely, “to lead”. Throughout this process amidst asymmetric structure that hegemony and divisions in society, intellectuals navigate coercion and consent for providing a newly appropriate direction of values and morals in society. They are not all entrepreneurs of one’s own identity in this case, nor are they managers of a political collective will. At least, they have the (e.g. intellectual) capacity of coming into existence as an élite leading the society in general, including all its complex organism of particularities, right up to the direct domination and command exercised through the State, because of the need to create a condition most favourable to the expansion of their own class. In other words, Gramsci’s praxis does not only shed light on the urgent (intellectual) purpose to
Beyond Multiculturalism 141 unveil the minority discourse being currently hijacked by nationalist forces and used for vested interests. He and his scholarship pose first and foremost the opportunity to guide today’s tensions over minority groups and their political representation from the heart of the State-led mechanisms of control and domination (e.g. hegemony) down to the realm of everyday life, particularly within the potential dynamics of the civil society. However, the division between the organic and traditional functions of minority spokespeople and ordinary members can suggest that public intellectuals and their critical voices do not prevent by default exclusion and marginalization from the core society. There is almost no doubt that organic minority intellectuals are implicated within phenomena of institutionalization and professionalism in Southeast Europe. As Gramsci noticed, indeed, those organic intellectuals with the most “specialisation”, are created and elaborated by every new class alongside the cause of its development (mentioned by Kearney and Rainwater 1996: 185). This perspective can easily suggest the rationale behind which nested relations of subordination have come into being. Due to a managerial model of dealing with today’s multicultural societies, subaltern subjectivities along with their political identities and cultural ontologies have all become subjects of instrumental calculations of benefitting from the “category of difference”. After all, minority traditional intellectuals too often refuse to be contempt for politics, turning a potential admiration for political figures and organic intellectuals into a mingled instinctive envy and impassioned anger. This subaltern disenfranchisement follows up as a collective incapability of criticizing dominant ideologies and hegemonic lifestyles as they can only be explained and justified in line with the historical necessities of day-present circumstances. A real dissolution of subaltern positionality does not pass by a fully disruptive or revolutionary momentum, nor by an implementation of new top-down approaches (e.g. normative) that destroy the status quo in a puff of smoke. Rather it passes by a momentum where mechanisms of “passive revolution” are activated. As Marchart argues, storming the Winter Palace is unlikely to pay off (2018: 152) as the war cannot be a single battle but rather a series of local engagements, and to tell the truth, none of these are decisive (Fanon 2001: 113). This passive revolution, which Gramsci refers to as a “revolution-restoration”, leads to a radical change. Yet it can last for decades, sometimes it can be more stable rather than more unstable at other times (Gramsci 1971: 178). In Southeast Europe, both integration and self- governing rights of minority subaltern groups need a concrete implementation on the ground; hence, a “revolution-restoration” can (re)activate a series of programs and public policies which do exist but, in practice, are in need of being performed and fully implemented on the ground. Therefore, subaltern minority intellectuals need to become less likely owners of “subjected knowledge” which are rendered culturally inferior and politically suppressed in the wider public. They should first and foremost achieve traditional socio-cultural emancipation and intellectual recognition from within their own socially marginalized community, making their voices heard to the organic institutions of representation. This may ontologically activate the moment of becoming political, which does not necessarily mount up to politics
142 Francesco Trupia but rather awakes subalterns in becoming major (Marchart 2018: 135). Such a “revolution-restoration” prepares a certain degree of revolutionary situations where in a status of pre-emerging (e.g. new hegemonic) dominancy, there will be political and cultural preconditions for replacing the current hegemonic mechanisms of power and command. This awakening momentum intends subalternity out of its traditional, political representation and leads subalterns to nullify their previous phenomena of political apathy and cultural disenfranchisement. It follows that the description of a “subaltern group” cannot uncritically refer to an “inferior” or “marginalised” social entity (Del Roio 2007: 64) –which is instead deep-rooted in the subtlety of the liberal multicultural discourse and its managerial public policies. To conclude, paraphrasing Gramsci once again, a process of power renegotiation and shifting ideology in the Southeast Europe can redefine politics and societies only through the societal role of intellectuals. They are to lead and drive themselves as a force towards a new terrain of domination, thereby fulfilling the crucial task of creating a new ideological terrain in which to determine a reform of consciousness (1971: 365–366). References Adamson, L. Walter (1980) Hegemony and Revolution. Antonio Gramsci’s Political and Cultural Theory, Berkley: University of California Press. Atanasoski, Neda (2013) Humanitarian Violence: The U.S. Deployment of Diversity. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. Balibar, Êtienne, and Wallerstein, Immanuel (1991) Race, Nation, Class: Ambiguous Identities. London: Verso Books. Bjelić, Dušan (2021) Abolition of a National Paradigm: The Case Against Benedict Anderson and Maria Todorova’s Raceless Imaginaries, Interventions: International Journal of Postcolonial Studies, Vol. 24. 239–262. BiEPAG (2020) “The Western Balkans in Times of the Global Pandemic”. April 2020., accessible at: https://biepag.eu/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/BiEPAG-Policy-Brief-The- WesternBalkans-in-Times-of-the-Global-Pandemic.pdf Bobbio, Norberto (1979) Gramsci and the Concept of Civil Society, in Gramsci and Marxist Theory (ed. Chantal Mouffe), London: Routledge, pp. 21–48. Castellino, Joshua (2018) Identity and Human Rights in a “Populist” Era: Urging Caution and Pragmatism in Minority Rights Protection, in: Populism, Memory, and Minority Rights. Central and Eastern European Issues in Global Perspective (ed. Anna-Mária Bíró), Leiden: Brill, pp. 342–356. Cianetti, Licia, and Sean Hanley (2021) The End of the Backsliding Paradigm? Avoiding Reverse ‘Transitology’ in Central and Eastern Europe, in: Journal of Democracy, Vol. 3, No. 1, pp. 66–80. Del Roio, Marcos (2007) Gramsci e a Emancipaçãodo Subalterno [in English: Gramsci and the Emancipation of the Subalterns], in: Revista de Sociologia e Política, Vol. 29. 63–78. Devic, Ana (2006) Transnationalization of Civil Society in Kosovo: International and Local Limits of Peace and Multiculturalism, in: Ethnopolitics, Vol. 5, No. 3, 257–273. Enyedi, Zsolt (2020) Right-wing Authoritarian Innovations in Central and Eastern Europe, in: East European Politics, Vol. 36, No. 3, 363–377. Fanon, Frantz (2001) The Wretched of the Earth, London: Penguin Classic.
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8 “Thank You For Not Attending” The Relevance of the Issue of Sociocultural Inequalities in the Process of Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia1 Ivana Vesić Introduction The post-Milošević democratic transition in Serbia that was initiated on 5 October 2000, was marked with numerous challenges in different social spheres. Controversial economic, political, and cultural policies of the 1990s thoroughly affected the inherited socialist hierarchy of power-relations inside Serbian society, its dominant order and values stimulating, among other things, the thriving of corruptive practices, illiberal economy, nationalistic and far-right narratives as well as widening of the gap between the wealthier and disadvantaged classes.2 In the aftermath of Milošević’s fall, the problematic legacy of his era started to emerge in its various embodiments, putting a lot of pressure on the newly elected governments regarding the process of Serbia’s profound reforming. Apart from highly neglected infrastructure from the socialist times that threatened to plague the yearly budgets in the 2000s, the sphere of culture also “inherited” other plights as a result of its overall centralization during the previous decade along with nontransparency of adoption of cultural policies, the complete deregulation of media and cultural production, etc. (see Đukić-Dojčinović 2003: 5– 18). Focusing on the cultural emancipation of workers and peasants typical before the late 1980s which was grounded on belief that the appropriation of legitimate cultural production (high-art practices such as classical music, jazz, rock)3 was possible through regular “exposure” to it or through its popularization in media and in venues outside urban cultural centres, was not only brought to an end in the 1990s but there was also a sharp turn in the approach to social groups with lesser cultural capital. By providing local and national commercial and entertaining TV and radio stations a dominant position in the public sphere without any control over their broadcasted contents, the political elite, driven by different interests, stimulated a thorough restructuring of cultural hierarchy and values in Serbian society (cf. Anastasijević 2003). In contrast to socialist emancipatory cultural projects, the Milošević era inaugurated a populist model whose main feature was the promotion of the most commercial aesthetics and production parallel to the marginalization of those that stood outside its norms (see Đukić-Dojčinović 2003: 18). As a result, mass media were swept over with the so-called turbofolk/neofolk, dance and locally produced pop music (Kronja 2004), Latin American telenovelas, DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-12
146 Ivana Vesić television (and radio) shows with psychics, astrologists, and tarotologists as well as “low brow” satirical sketches (cf. Radulović 2019), while aesthetically more demanding and socially provocative genres (jazz, rock, new wave, techno, hip-hop, postpunk, etc.) were available primarily in a small number of independent, locally broadcasted radios and TV stations and through numerous other “intermediaries”.4 Therefore, the complex cultural policy characteristic for the socialist period5 whose primary aim was to advance cultural knowledge, habits, and taste of the masses, particularly of workers and peasants, was substituted with the idea of giving legitimacy to their existing needs, habits, and consumption preferences and rejecting the “cultural establishment”. While the populist cultural model of the 1990s seemed to give the masses a possibility to freely express their cultural preferences without any incentives or “shaming” from the elites, many contemporaries interpreted it as profoundly nonemancipatory, serving primarily as an instrument of their own social and cultural “containment”.6 Although its particularities, especially regarding the lower strata,7 need further exploration, what seems unequivocal is that this era mostly annulled the results of socialist emancipatory undertakings, reshaped the socialist “cultural” order and, at the same time, transformed Serbian music and creative industries, consumption practices of cultural actors and the local cultural scenes. What the post-October’s governments had to confront was a complex amalgamation of, on the one hand, still vital particles of the socialist cultural model reproduced through the preserved cultural infrastructure, a nexus of manifestations that continued to be organized in the 1990s, and established cultural habits among (older) Serbian consumers, and, on the other, a deeply ingrained populist model. Aside from taking their stand towards socialist and early postsocialist structuring of the cultural sphere, the political elite of the 2000s had a demanding task to define the specific identity of Serbian culture, its historical heritage and its positioning in the globalist, neo-capitalist, and postsocialist frameworks. Parallel to searching for novel directions of the development of Serbian culture, governments at the time had many other priorities.8 As the accomplishment of various goals together with solving diverse issues progressed slowly and unsteadily, the particularities of approach to public cultural policy during the period of democratic transition began to emerge. Among others, it encompassed the specific understanding of the problem of diminishing sociocultural inequalities as well as the strengthening of the cultural potential of lower classes. As I shall discuss in the following sections, the perspective towards these issues underwent shifts through time. Three distinct phases can be discerned regarding the approach to lower strata in public cultural policy which partly reflect Serbia’s political instability, particularly in the first twelve years of the new millennia and coincide with the rule of different governments in the past decades.9 Each of the phases was based on a different set of measures which were related to the transformation of the cultural potential of lower strata. In a general sense, in the early 2000s, it is possible to observe the steps that were more or less explicitly oriented towards this part of the population along with their gradual disappearance after 2006.
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 147 Following the results of my research that included the analysis of normative acts and other official documents created by the Serbian Ministry of Culture from 2001 to 2021, the reports, case studies, and databases of the Institute for Cultural Development Research, a large number of scientific studies on the cultural needs, habits, and practices of Serbian citizens and on Serbian cultural policies in postsocialist period as well as the detailed exploration of Serbian press and periodicals,10 I will give a thorough insight into the most prominent measures and actions of the Serbian political elite in connection with the problem of sociocultural inequalities as well as cultural empowerment of lower strata. Special emphasis will be put on the period of early 2000s, considering the diversity and significance of steps that were intended to shape the “cultural horizon” of lower classes. Will symbolical suppression of commercial products affect the taste of masses? In addition to fundamental political and economic changes, the opponents of Milošević and his legacy had high expectations after the post-5 October 2000 political turn when it came to reorganizing the cultural sphere and its various segments. Given that the dominance of commercial culture during the 1990s was accompanied by the economic strengthening of the actors who contributed to it, as well as the growth of their prestige in the public sphere and society as a whole, it is not surprising that the majority of anti-Milošević’s circles believed that the populist cultural model which was created and exploited in that period was not only the very influential product of Milošević’s politics but also one of its key instruments in the reproduction of political power. Interpreting the constant dominance of entertaining, light, and trivial content in the public sphere of Milošević’s era as a result of the desire to make the citizens politically passive and to distract them in order not to face numerous difficulties, primarily the mass impoverishment, the deterioration of the standard of living, limited movement and exchange of symbolic and material goods due to the international isolation,11 many intellectuals, artists, and opposition activists considered such content as a backbone of Milošević’s regime.12 Based on such understanding, along with a view that particularly turbofolk contributed to the overall lowering of aesthetic (and ethical) standards and preferences of masses, one of the priorities of the democratic transition, especially during the early 2000s, was the thorough reforming of various segments of the cultural sphere. Among the first steps was the establishment of a new hierarchy within the cultural sphere, mostly through the regulation of electronic media (radio, TV) that functioned in a semi-illegal state during the 1990s. In addition to the highly despised state-owned Radio Television of Serbia (RTS) which was a cornerstone of Milošević’s propaganda, there were also hundreds of private radio and television stations, many of which operated without permits, on illegal broadcast bands, and lacking necessary technical equipment (cf. Skrozza 2002). Certainly, the problem of introducing proper broadcasting standards was one of the most significant task at the time, since the lack of regulation of television and radio contents, both in terms of its ethical and aesthetic dimensions, resulted in complete dominance of
148 Ivana Vesić commercial forms, including those that could never be allowed in electronic media in the socialist times such as television shows with psychics, astrologers, tarot masters, etc.13 Because of the complexity and slow implementation of this process,14 on the one hand, but, on the other, the willingness of the political elite to clearly express the discontinuity with the previous decade, some important steps were taken early in post-October times in order to depoliticize state radio and television.15 In addition to the media sphere, the depoliticization of various cultural institutions and cultural manifestations was also regarded as crucial.16 Along with it, it was equally important to delegitimize the cultural order from the previous decade. This included a set of different measures in various areas of culture and society. The most influential segment in the cultural sphere of the 1990s was certainly the local music industry in which the production and distribution of turbofolk, newly-composed folk music, dance, and pop music, together with importing of music products of similar kind from the former Yugoslav republics had a strong monopoly.17 Among these genres, turbofolk has attracted special attention due to its mass popularity and the fact that its biggest stars constituted the so-called “new elites” together with a group of social actors mostly referred to in public as “controversial businessmen” who accumulated significant material wealth during this period by engaging in criminal activities.18 Bearing in mind that the professional and life paths of members of this group constantly intertwined, as evidenced by lyrics and music videos of turbofolk singers, and endless reports in the tabloids, for the critically oriented public, this was another indicator of this genre’s problematic sociopolitical role. As a cornerstone of Milošević’s populist cultural policy, it not only served to distract the masses but also to offer them a distorted picture of social reality disguised in the alluring and entertaining audio-visual form. Thus, in addition to being proclaimed one of the pillars of the Milošević’s regime, turbofolk became a key means for the deterioration of aesthetic criteria in the sphere of culture, for the predominance of “banal” and “ephemeral” content in it, but, more importantly –for “dulling the wits” and spoiling the music taste of the masses. Emphasizing the connection between this genre and the process of shaping the taste of the lower strata in the public debates was an important phenomenon since it represented one of the main reference points of the cultural policy formulated in the first phase of the post-Milošević era. One of the basic assumptions that appeared during the 1990s and gained particular prominence in the post-October period, was that turbofolk, owing to its mix of shallow lyrics, eroticized performances of female singers, and a sound that deviated from Serbian traditional folk music being grounded on vocal styles and melodic patterns typical for North African and Middle Eastern countries, had an almost hypnotic effect on listeners from rural and peripheral urban areas whose cultural “competencies” were weak due to insufficient education and modest cultural capital. The ease with which this genre spread among the lower strata was believed to have been further reinforced through its dominant presence on all types of electronic media, from local radio and television stations to those with national coverage. Considering these two factors –the “seductiveness” of turbofolk and its broad media distribution –crucial for the popularity of this type of music among the lower strata, the political elite focused on several processes in the first phase after
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 149 the fall of Milošević. To start with, it was necessary to reduce the presence of turbofolk and its stars in the media, especially those that had a national coverage, to promote other music genres on radio and television stations (state-owned and private),19 and to encourage their production in a state-owned record company (PGP- RTS). In addition, it was important to impose measures to dampen the production and promotion of turbofolk and challenge its sociocultural status while offering adequate cultural substitutes. The restructuring of programming in the media sphere took place soon after the 5 October 2000’s political turn. Already in November 2000, a journalist from the Glas javnosti pointed to the phenomenon of “liberation” of radio and television stations, particularly those that were the main promoters of the “large amounts of kitsch music” and their opening to hitherto marginalized music genres: […]. The treatment of pop and rock music at the time can be best understood by analyzing the program of recently “liberated” “folk” televisions: although they are trying to offer something “different” from turbofolk and turbodens, there are hardly any (digestible) music videos from the 1990s in their archives. (Dragosavac 2000) Unexpected and very swift reshaping of programming, particularly music programming of the most popular Serbian TV and radio stations in the aftermath of Milošević’s fall, also made a strong impression on some musicians who contributed to media-suppressed music genres.20 The process of transforming Serbian media continued in the following years so that the journalist of the weekly Vreme could claim during Operation Sabre (2003) that turbofolk culture has been marginalized in the media for some time and that it survives in the form in which it commenced –as a satellite program distributed to economic migrants […], while Serbian TV and radio stations mostly play domestic European trash dance music, and while only TV Palma […] cultivates a bizarrely nostalgic playlist of the last decade of turbofolk. (Midžić and Pop-Mitić 2003) In parallel with this process which was supposed to result in the pluralization of radio and TV music programming and the music industry in general, efforts were made to point to the “dark side” of commercial music production from the 1990s and to present it from a critical perspective in the dominant public sphere. A sort of negative campaign against turbofolk and commercial culture from the Milošević’s period, whose first contours appeared in opposition circles during the 1990s, was initiated soon after the 5 October 2000, and in addition to cultural policymakers, many public figures such as musicians, artists, intellectuals and journalists joined it. One of the first relevant initiatives in this regard was the publishing of the book titled “Songs from the People’s Belly: An Anthology of Turbofolk” in 2001, which brought together cultural theorists, sociologists, musicians, and connoisseurs of cultural circumstances in Serbia from the Milošević’s period.21 It was promoted in the 2-day fair called “Treshkult” that was held at the Student Cultural Centre
150 Ivana Vesić in Belgrade in January 2002 (see Anonymous 2002) and that gave currency to taking a critical stance towards the Serbian 1990s commercial culture. Its goal was to “finally display in public the most recent taboo – the phenomenon of turbofolk which has strongly influenced the shaping of consciousness, taste, as well as aesthetic and even ethical norms in Serbia in previous years”. “Treshkult” was conceived as a “multimedia fair of various turbofolk trash and kitsch” which was supposed to present to the broader public its problematic aesthetic (and ethical), hybrid and destructive nature (Anonymous 2002). This manifestation was preceded by the idea to introduce additional taxation of commercial cultural production, especially turbofolk (and newly composed folk music), which was first formulated by Aleksandra Jovićević, the assistant of the Minister of Culture in the Government of Serbia (2001–2003), and president of the Commission for Exemption of Books from the Sales Tax that had its first meeting in June 2001. In an interview with the daily Blic, she stated that “she personally thinks that Zorica Brunclik’s records should be taxed” (Jovanović 2001). The echo of this idea could also be found in the attempt to discourage the production of this type of music which was elaborated in late 2001 by pop singer Slađana Milošević, at the time a coordinator at the Serbian Ministry of Culture. According to her: The profiteers in this area, owing to the privileges procured by the previous regime, undermined our moral and spiritual foundations. [Kitsch should be approached with] Disincentives, higher tax rates, warning labels, and various restrictive methods. You know, kitsch has played a crucial role in Serbian reality since the end of the 1970s. (Njezić 2001) Although this idea was never implemented due to numerous obstacles, primarily the problem of defining the precise criteria to distinguish between the commercial production that should and should not be financially burdened, it is interesting to observe that it kept appearing in public from time to time, first during 2010 and 2013, but also recently (see M. Š. 2010; A. P. 2013; Anonymous 2015; Karović 2022). The reactualization of the socialist Yugoslavia’s “Kitsch Tax” to which the initiative of Jovićević and, even more, Milošević indirectly referred, was accompanied by narratives in the media that were reminiscent of those created in The League of Communists of Yugoslavia, and Yugoslav professional associations and media in the 1970s concerning the most popular musical form at the time –the newly-composed folk music.22 Three decades after the adoption of the Law about Changes and Amendments to Republic Tax on Small Goods and Services in 1972, which was preceded and followed by a broad campaign against the newly-composed folk music, the discussions about “kitsch music” that “spoils the taste”, “spoils the youth” and is unrelated to the Serbian musical heritage were once again revitalized.23 To the number of measures by which the cultural policymakers, simultaneously with the artistic and intellectual elite, tried to restructure the inherited cultural order of the 1990s, primarily to suppress turbofolk and other commercial forms from the media and give way to marginalized musical genres, should be added the
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 151 transforming of the state-sponsored music production. As a part of the process of depoliticization of RTS, the attention was given to redefining the artistic policies of the recording company PGP-RTS. In 2001, a conductor, composer, and musician Vladimir Vlada Marković was appointed the company’s director with a task to its to rebuild its prestigious status from the socialist period, to raise the quality of production and to attract bands from the fields of rock, pop, and jazz music both acclaimed and lesser known (see Grujić 2001). During his management, as well as the management of his successor Ognjen Uzelac (2006–2009), this company became, among other things, one of the key producers of Serbian world music –a genre that showed both commercial and artistic potentials in the post-Milošević period.24 This potential was indirectly evidenced by research on cultural needs, habits, and tastes of the citizens of Serbia that was conducted at the time.25 Given the generally high affection and lack of aversion among different strata towards traditional and old urban folk music, opportunities for broader dissemination of “ethno music” among young and older generations, as well as less and more educated groups, and groups with different cultural needs and tastes were, at least in theory, not negligible. Apart from that, the particularity of the cultural and political context in Serbia that evolved at the time when world music became an important factor in the global music market should also not be dismissed. Considering the intention to remove turbofolk from influential media with national coverage, especially in the early 2000s and to delegitimize it, the emergence of a genre that referred much more to “authentic” local and national music heritage, which mainly attracted well-versed musicians, both instrumentalists and vocal performers, and was based on more complex musical outcomes, could act as an important substitute for the so-called narodnjaci (see Vesić 2009: 13–21), that is – from the point of view of the political (and intellectual) elite – as an aesthetically and ethically acceptable alternative. Although it is not possible to document the importance of this idea among cultural policymakers or the managers of media houses, nor its relevance in shaping and distribution of cultural production, what is certainly unequivocal is that “ethno music” easily found its way to national media, that it was played at important celebrations, and that its performers attracted the attention of press and radio and television stations (see Vesić 2009: 41–58). Moreover, “ethno”, apart from traditional and old urban folk music, was the only type of folk music that not only enjoyed the patronage of leading media houses but also the support of a significant part of dominant political and intellectual circles in the post-Milošević era. Another important quality of this genre rested on its potential for popularizing Serbian culture internationally. The fact that, particularly in the Western European countries, the so-called Balkan beat, with numerous brass bands and performers of Balkan Roma music from Serbia, Bulgaria, and Romania achieved great popularity at the beginning of the 21st century was significant in this regard (Vesić 2009: 42–43). That the Serbian cultural policymakers were aware of this trend is evidenced by the resources they invested in order to transform the traditional Dragačevo Festival of Trumpet Players (founded in 1961) from the socialist period into one of the most popular cultural manifestations in the country, which was supposed to attract
152 Ivana Vesić local, regional and international audiences (see Didanović 2007; Todorović 2008). Although the conflicting cultural programs of the ruling parties were reflected in the festival’s promotion and reception, the proponents of distinctive ideological positions agreed that it propagated the acceptable type of folk music and that it could serve both as a means of cultural diplomacy and a generator of cultural and economic development of the region around Guča.26 Before we consider the effects of cultural reforms in the first phase of Serbian democratic transition, particularly concerning the lower classes and their cultural needs, habits, and preferences, it is important to briefly describe how the process of delegitimization of turbofolk and the attempt to impose its acceptable substitutes evolved. What was initiated in this regard in 2001 reached a culmination after the assassination of Prime Minister Zoran Đinđić, especially during the state of emergency and the implementation of Operation Sabre in March and April 2003. A powerful trigger of another wave of harsh criticism in the media and broader public over the cultural symbol of the 1990s, turbofolk, was the arrest of one of its biggest stars, singer Svetlana Ceca Ražnatović, as well as singer Aca Lukas as a result of their involvement in various illegal activities. Although in the post- October period, resistance to this type of music and its exponents was constantly expressed in the dominant public sphere, during the aforementioned operation, it intensified significantly. The journalist of the weekly Vreme noticed an unusual interest in the fate of Ceca Ražnatović in the Internet forums and popular press with a pronounced outpouring of negative feelings towards the creators and consumers of turbofolk. The reason for that was the following: Belgrade and Serbia are sincerely convinced that she [Ceca] has a whole music genre [turbofolk] in prison as her roommate […]. . Not even the fans of turbofolk […] were spared the harsh words. […] ‘the stronger the blow to the mafia, the more these manipulated people from Ceca’s concert will respect the government’. (Midžić and Pop-Mitić 2003) However, after Ceca was released from prison, and after the change of government in 2004, the status of turbofolk and its stars gradually improved and this segment of commercial culture was accepted as its legitimate part. A turning point in that regard was the appearance of Ceca Ražnatović in the New Year’s program of RTS in 2005/2006 (see Ilić 2006), as well as her concert in Belgrade’s Ušće (2006) in front of 150,000 people which was widely covered by the media (see Skrozza 2006). Finally, her performance at the celebration before the Serbian Parliament in 2007 under the support of some of the ruling Serbian parties (the Democratic Serbian Party and the Party of New Serbia) should be mentioned (see Anonymous 2007). From that time onwards, turbofolk stars gained more and more attention in public space, they performed at local manifestations, and the political elite began to speak affirmatively about their music (see Kostić 2010). While this certainly cannot be interpreted as a sign of a return to the populist model of the 1990s, it undoubtedly represented a departure from the policies of the first phase
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 153 of democratic transition. The most significant rise in social prestige of turbofolk and its performers after 2000 occurred in the third phase (particularly after 2017), when some folk stars, in addition to taking part in the music broadcasts of radio and television stations, local events and festivals, also started to participate in political shows on the most popular televisions and to contribute to the political campaigns of the ruling Serbian Progressive Party. How much the cultural “climate” in the last few years resonated with the atmosphere in the cultural sphere of the 1990s will be discussed in detail in the concluding chapter. Given the steps taken by cultural policymakers in Serbia to suppress the legacy of the 1990s, it is important to discuss how effective they were, and in particular, whether they had any influence on the cultural knowledge, needs, and preferences of the lower classes as the largest part of the Serbian population. To begin with, it is necessary to approach the claims about a complete transformation of media content and marginalization of the local commercial, cultural products with reserve. From press reports of a later date, it can be concluded that, for instance, television Palma, which was founded in Milošević’s time, continued with the programming from the past which included the promotion of turbofolk and other highly commercial music genres (according to Midžić and Pop-Mitić 2003). In addition, after 2000, there were local radio stations with strong support of a large community of loyal listeners that mainly broadcasted segments of newly-composed folk music or turbofolk production in a very popular format inherited from the socialist period (Skrozza 2002; T. S. 2002). It was grounded on listeners’ choice of songs followed by personal messages of different kinds.27 The practice of promoting a kind of “occasional” newly-composed folk music that had a subcultural status in relation to the mainstream turbofolk production continued in these radio stations in the 2000s, moreover, it was more popular among their consumers than turbofolk hits. Given the fact that, according to some estimates, the audience of such stations was not so small despite their narrow coverage, and that it could include hundreds of thousands of listeners (even a million), this contradicts the claim that all influential actors in the media and cultural spheres from the previous period were undermined (according to Skrozza 2002; T. S. 2002). Actually, it could only be valid for the most popular radio and TV stations with national coverage. It is also very questionable how much the process of regulating the media, even after the adoption of the Law on Broadcasting, the allocation of broadcast bands and licences to radio and TV stations and the foundation of regulatory bodies (RATEL and REM), really contributed to controlling their content, particularly in local and regional frameworks. The example of radio stations such as Raka Ešinger which promoted already described music production, and which, despite not having a broadcasting licence, worked without any restraints from 1999 to March 2012, clearly confirms this, and it was certainly not an isolated case (T. S. 2002). The discouraging of problematic music content from the media and their symbolic challenging in public seems to have had no significant effect on reshaping the cultural production and consumption in Serbia, and the popularity of types of music that emerged during the 1990s and before among the lower social strata. Numerous indicators testified to that. Notwithstanding the prevalence of pirate
154 Ivana Vesić materials in music consumption which, despite various attempts and measures, was not regulated in the 2000s (see Marković 2001; Grujičić 2001; P. D. 2004; Dragosavac 2004), it is important to note that, according to official data on the circulation of published CDs, turbofolk and newly-composed folk music albums were regularly among the best sellers. For instance, the first five albums in 2007 included the work of turbofolk stars such as Seka Aleksić (300,000 copies), Indira Radić, Saša Matić and Aca Pejović (200,000 copies) (see I. S. 2008). Some turbofolk singers reached high circulations in the aftermath of the 5 October 2000’s turn but, unfortunately, the precise data were never officially disclosed to the public due to the practice of recording companies to intentionally reduce the numbers because of financial obligations to the copyright agency SOKOJ (see Grujičić 2002). It was noted in the press that the first album of Svetlana Ražnatović in the post- Milošević era, titled Decade, sold over 200,000 copies in the format of cassette and 70,000 copies as a CD in the first month after its release (Grujičić, Tenji, Živković, Popović, and Stanojčić 2002). Another important indicator of the popularity of turbofolk in the first few years of the democratic transition was the attendance of concerts of its established artists. One of the biggest events in this regard after 2000 was Ceca Ražnatović’s concert at Marakana Stadium (2002) in front of nearly 100,000 people. This concert was judged in the respected weekly Vreme as “a no. 1 social event” at the time in Serbia that could match the performance of the legendary Rollingstones by its technical and sound qualities (see Kremer 2002). It was followed by many other noteworthy performances of this singer and other turbofolk stars in the following years in front of tens of thousands of spectators.28 Apart from that, the mass audience was also characteristic for the singers of the newly-composed folk music. Among them, a special place belonged to Sinan Sakić, a representative of a specific current which was established in the mid-1980s representing a subcultural phenomenon ignored in the dominant public sphere at the time, but extremely popular among the lower strata.29 In 2008, Sakić gathered 8,000 listeners at the Tašmajdan stadium, mostly of the younger generation, and he also held a very well-attended concert at the same place a year earlier (according to Vojinović 2008). If we consider the research on music taste of Serbian citizens from that period, it is evident that the audience of such and similar events consisted mostly of young proponents of “rurban” taste –middle-school educated, mostly residents of urban areas of rural background, while a portion of it belonged to the bearers of the so-called folk taste –members of older generations with primary education consisting of workers and farmers who preferred traditional and old urban folk music, as well as the newly-composed folk music. The representation of the former group was probably higher at concerts within certain local events (festivals) throughout Serbia, where turbofolk or newly-composed folk music stars often performed. Although due to the lack of data on the taste of citizens of Serbia during the 1990s, appropriate comparisons cannot be made, but, still, the impressive numbers when it comes to the circulation of albums and concert audience suggest that the interest in turbofolk and newly-composed folk music after the 2000s has not waned.
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 155 This type of music continued to attract younger generations and its marginalization in the dominant public in the first years of the 2000s, along with its delegitimization, did not affect the preferences of consumers, particularly those from the lower classes. Since this phase lasted very shortly, such results were not surprising. Even the longer duration of measures applied in the early 2000s’ cultural policy would probably not have a different outcome which is confirmed by the similar “episode” from the history of socialist Yugoslavia. As it is known, despite the taking various steps during 1970s aimed at suppressing the spread of the “kitsch” music embodied in at the time very popular newly-composed folk music, the effects were temporary and, after a short period of time, this type of music experienced a renaissance (in early 1980s) and became a part of commercial culture mainstream (see Rasmussen 2002: 79–93, 169–199; Dragićević-Šešić 1994). Of equal importance is the attempt at reshaping the taste of consumers using repressive methods such as preventing the possibility to access the inappropriate types of music (primarily turbofolk) in the public space and media which took place in the neighbouring Republic of Croatia (see Baker 2008). As this process evolved almost simultaneously with the one in Serbia, it’s clear that Serbian cultural policymakers could not rely on the experiences of their Croatian colleagues. However, these experiences are important because they point to the ineffectiveness of applied measures that are mainly based on discouraging or restricting the contact of consumers with certain cultural products in the public sphere without being accompanied by other, more long-term and complex processes.30 In the case of Serbia, the attempt to offer alternative cultural products to the listeners of turbofolk and newly-composed folk music in the form of “ethno” sound was also not fruitful. With the exception of popularity of the Guča Festival that gathered leading brass bands from the country and on average up to one hundred thousand visitors, it is important to note that both concerts and published CDs of performances in this field contributed more to expanding the boundaries of the proponents of urban taste, that is, to add to their otherwise omnivorous choices another “exotic” genre (cf. Vesić 2009: 43–44). In short, fans of rock, jazz, and global popular music in Serbia may have become more interested in the sound of the “Serbian trumpet”, bagpipes, kaval, as well as the specific rhythms and vocal styles of older traditional folk music, but this was much less true for the bearers of folk and “urban” taste. Both media promotion of “ethno music” and events at which it could be heard were more in line with the habits and horizons of a more educated audience. Towards a return to the populist model? As already indicated, the abandonment of some of the key priorities of cultural policy after the 5 October 2000’s turn, such as improving the quality of media content and delegitimizing turbofolk, began to be manifested in 2006. Other phenomena in television production were also very important in that regard. In 2006 and in the following years, the return of highly commercial products whose aesthetic characteristics were very close to those encountered on televisions with
156 Ivana Vesić national coverage during the 1990s could be clearly observed. Among others, in that period, the satirical-humorous series Kursadžije that bore many similarities with the BB Show popular in the 1990s was released on TV Pink (2006–2013) (see Krstić 2012), the series “Selo gori, a baba se češlja” (2006–2016) (Anonymous 2021) which was focused on the stereotypical representations of the Serbian rural area and its inhabitants was produced and broadcasted on RTS, and a series “Moj rođak sa sela” (2008, 2011) with a similar topic also appeared on this television. These series had high ratings judging by the available data. For instance, Radoš Bajić’s creation, “Selo gori, a baba se češlja”, was watched by almost 3 million viewers (approximately 50% of the Serbian population) by episode, and that probably contributed to its long broadcasting and several reruns, as many as seven (Anonymous 2021). The caricature portrayals of Serbian peasants, their way of life, interpersonal relations, and understanding of the world thus became a trademark of the RTS, a public service media, and its most characteristic cultural products in this period. As the media that was supposed to set standards of cultural-educational programming entered into a fierce struggle for ratings without taking into account the quality of the offered content, it encouraged the competing TV stations to develop new commercial formats. Thus, the reality show “Farma” appeared on TV Pink in 2009, also in a rural setting, but including various figures from public life, and the next year a reality show “Parovi” was launched and set in a large, luxuriously equipped house. Since that time, the presence of reality content has been constantly increasing in the daily programming, and the additional publicity has been given to them by numerous tabloids, Internet portals, and digital social networks.31 The growing importance of highly commercial content on all influential television stations has been further strengthened by the possibilities of their reproduction, sharing, discussing, and promoting in the digital media that were in constant rise in Serbia since 2010. The reactualization of media trends that evolved during the 1990s could also be traced in the frequent appearances of various “controversial” figures in entertainment and reality shows as well as political talk shows on televisions with national spread, such as convicted drug dealers, prostitutes, war crimes’ suspects, convicted women abusers, etc. The presence of people from problematic social “milieus” in the daily and prime-time programmes became particularly prominent during the coronavirus pandemic in 2020 and 2021. At the time, there was also a surge of pseudo-scientists, doctors of various specialties, psychologists, surgeons, and other individuals on television stations who were mostly not competent on topics of respiratory viruses, immunology, and vaccinology.32 The amount of misinformation, conspiracy theories, false interpretations, and conclusions that was distributed over 2 years through popular television stations as well as the digital media was enormous, and their consequences will only be possible to observe in the coming period. It is important to note that no regulatory body of the Republic of Serbia reacted to such TV content, and a particular curiosity is the fact that one of the members of the government’s Crisis Committee for the Struggle Against COVID-19 imposed himself as a leader in creating and popularizing pseudo-scientific and false data.33
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 157 In the period after 2006, when a noticeable increase in populist tendencies in the cultural sphere could be followed, particularly in media, cultural policymakers have not taken significant steps that would testify to their interest in solving sociocultural inequalities and expanding the cultural potential of the lower strata. The only initiative at the time that was meant to provide access to high cultural products to the part of the Serbian population to whom it was not available was the project “Serbia in Serbia” (2008–2012) (see Vukanović 2013: 124–127). This project was not directly focused on members of the lower strata but primarily at residents of those parts of Serbia where drama, opera, and ballet performances, art exhibitions and noncommercial films were not distributed. Although it was announced with a lot of enthusiasm and pomp, the motives and goals of its initiators were not entirely clear. It can be assumed that it arised from the imbalanced cultural offer in different parts of the country and, as a result, an unequal access to high cultural production among the citizens of various Serbian regions (see Vukanović 2013: 124–127). However, although the issue of decentralization of culture was very important and although it required serious public discussions and analysis, in this case, such a process was absent. In fact, policymakers oriented themselves towards a decades- old solution that was already applied in socialist times.34 In contrast with the tendency to extensively discuss the decentralizing moves of the socialist Serbia’s Republic Community of Culture in the press and professional circles as well as the tours and their broader effects (see Spasić 2022: 129–130), little was known about the funds invested in the implementation of the project “Serbia in Serbia” and even less about its outcomes concerning the advancements of the cultural sphere in the less developed areas (see Vukanović 2013: 126–127). Besides, any reflections on the importance of such and similar endeavours regarding the expansion of cultural competencies of the lower classes were lacking. However, what emerged as a specific problem in this period that had repercussions on the cultural habits and preferences of this part of the population, was the lack of continuous and systematic cross- sectoral cooperation, especially between the Ministry of Culture and the Ministry of Education, but also the Ministry of Tourism, and the Ministry of Youth and Sports.35 The nonexistence of any synchrony and exchange in the functioning of primary and secondary schools, universities, and cultural institutions (libraries, cultural centres, cultural associations, and organizations, etc.) in all areas, including Belgrade as the most developed cultural centre of the country, was underlined not only in the research of cultural phenomena in recent 15 years but also in the observations of Serbian cultural actors. Another, no less intricate phenomenon was the lack of systematic work of cultural institutions with the audience, including the long-term plans in this regard. Not only that cultural education of various social groups not carried out in cultural institutions, but even more perplexing is the fact that was this is not considered a priority among their employees and management (Lazarević 2011: 14–18). If the absence of appropriate socioeconomic conditions that enable the accumulation of cultural capital, and the forming of cultural needs, habits, and taste of individuals36 can only be compensated either by radical changes in socioeconomic conditions, or by strengthening other factors in socialization –schools, cultural institutions and
158 Ivana Vesić various intermediaries open to citizens of different social backgrounds –what was actually offered to the members of the lower strata in Serbia in this regard in the last two decades? Concluding remarks: populist cultural policy as a means of empowerment of lower classes? If we consider the process of restructuring the Serbian cultural sphere in the past 20 years and the attention that was given to the issue of sociocultural inequalities, several important insights should be emphasized. Looking at the efforts of the creators of cultural policy in Serbia in the analyzed period, the interest in strengthening the cultural potential of lower strata was noticeable only in an indirect form in the first few years after the 5 October 2000’s turn.37 Most of the energy was directed at restricting the availability of “problematic” products and their negative representation in public, however, this was not accompanied by other processes that could contribute to the changing of cultural knowledge, needs, and taste of the broader population in the long run as it was the case with socialist Yugoslavia. Moreover, approaching the local low culture from the very critical perspective grounded on socially constructed high culture standards and values and insisting on its sociopolitical and sociocultural inadequacy and detrimental effects seems to mainly resulted in maintaining a deep polarization of the Serbian cultural sphere and its production and consumption segments, as well as in strengthening of distrust towards elites and cultural establishment among the lower classes. The fact that no steps were taken in the spheres of education or culture to decrease the sociocultural inequalities and to improve the cultural potential of lower strata should also be underlined. The systematic use of resources of cultural institutions in the past twenty years was not considered relevant for the primary and secondary education, nor were cultural institutions encouraged to dedicate themselves to educating the audience through workshops, popular lectures, and various other activities. Not only were the existing educational and cultural institutions completely unintegrated, but certain mass organizations that played an important cohesive role in the socialist era by interconnecting the spheres of education, culture, sports, and science and serving as a “corrective” to sociocultural inequalities were either dismantled or lost their former influence.38 The economically weakest strata did not represent the priority of the political elite in the post-5 October 2000 period in social and economic reforms. In addition, they were carrying the greatest burden and consequences of the transition from the socialist model to the liberal-capitalist form of the market economy. In such circumstances strengthening the cultural potential of lower classes as it was conceived in the socialist times was also rejected. Instead of that, the attention of the political elite, particularly after 2006, was centred on revitalization of populist cultural policy by once again resorting to deregulation of media, especially those with national coverage. This time the focus was on television production and its reality programming. Letting this type of commercial content permeate TV broadcasts and, parallel to that, social media and portals resembled to a certain
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 159 degree the process that took place in the 1990s. The realities produced by Pink and Happy TV39 brought novelties in the Serbian cultural sphere mainly by promoting people from the “margins” with a modest education, lower cultural and social background, but with high aspirations concerning public recognition and stardom as well as the rise in the social hierarchy. Aside from promoting those who are “despised”, “rejected”, and “ridiculed” by the elite circles and high classes as the new heroes that give voice to “the real people”, these shows are constantly reproducing a narrative that success, fame, and social mobility can be achieved despite modest social background. The similar feelings are galvanized in the political sphere where members of lower classes, if they support the leading SPP and participate in its campaigning, are given the possibility to access prestigious social posts and, consequently, quickly gain considerable socioeconomic capital. In both cases praising the lower classes seems to be a part of the strongly populist cultural (and social) policy, but does it result in their empowerment? Regarding the cultural sphere and TV production, making certain individuals from lower classes new idols, stars, and successful members of Serbian society mostly serves to attract the attention of the public with similar social status and, at the same time, to persuade them that despite their (negative) distinction from the elite, they deserve social recognition. Still, notwithstanding the seductiveness of this narrative, the reality of the lower classes in most of the spheres, including the cultural one is all but rosy. Without actual political and social power, and with very modest cultural potential that is not stimulated by cultural policy, the lower classes are left with limited options in terms of their advancement and, on its best, the illusion of being significant. The campaign of the Belgrade Philharmonic Orchestra from 2011 with the message “Thank you for not attending” (see Anonymous 2011), partly illustrates their position.40 Venerating the “popular hero” while depriving it of various cultural (and educational) resources is not too far from the idea that lower classes should not step out of their own “milieu” or leave their “comfort zone” –because it is their “natural habitat” and why would anyone including the political elite intervene and destroy it! Notes 1 This chapter is the result of research conducted within the Institute of Musicology of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts, funded by the Ministry of Science, Technological Development, and Innovations of the Republic of Serbia (RS-200176). 2 On the social, economic, and cultural turmoils of the 1990s, see Lazić (2000), Bolčić (2001), Pešić (2007), Stilhoff Sorensen (2003), Bieber (2011), and Đukić-Dojčinović (2003). 3 Here I refer to Pierre Bourdieu’s interpretation of the division between high and popular culture. According to his views, not only cultural consumption and taste practices but also cultural production can be regarded as a result of the influence of various social factors, primarily the interrelations of different social fields (field of power, culture, art, bureaucratic field, etc.), the mediation of class divisions based on accumulation of various types of capital (economic, cultural, social), but also the functioning of numerous social, cultural and artistic institutions, groups and networks that struggle to impose
160 Ivana Vesić particular definitions of aesthetic value. Owing to changes in historical circumstances as well as understanding of socially articulated aesthetic norms, it is not possible to speak about high/low (popular, commercial) art per se as boundaries are regularly redefined, nor to observe them outside specific social dynamic, where they become (de)sacralized, (de)divinized, and (de)legitimized. Consequently, neither high nor low art can be appropriated independently of a complex set of social processes that give one or another (social) prestige, relevance, acceptance, or the opposite. On Bourdieu’s interpretations of cultural and art productions, see Bourdieu (1993). 4 While most of the products that belonged to these genres were marginalized in the state- owned and private media, they were regularly present in the numerous urban entertainment venues (clubs, bars, restaurants). Aside from that, globally produced music was available to consumers owing to widespread unauthorized copying and reproduction of cassettes and CDs, as well as music videos and television shows. For instance, the most influential music TV station at the time, the American cable channel MTV, was broadcasted via some local Serbian TV stations (Jugoskandik television) in the early 1990s without formal permits which let the large number of spectators follow the latest trends in the global music industry. In addition, the broad selection of music from different parts of the world including the ex-Yugoslav republic was possible to obtain through low-price pirate cassettes and CDs. 5 Yugoslav socialist cultural policy had gone through several stages and after the abandonment of the idea of creating workers’ and peasants’ art in the late 1940s, it was mostly focused on the following aspects: (1) cultural democratization (making high art more accessible, both physically and materially, to workers and peasants), (2) cultural enlightenment of children and youth (making high art and high-art practices available to these groups through primary and secondary education and children’s and youth organizations and their activities), (3) cultural enlightenment of adults (creating institutions for adult education and fostering activities dedicated to adult education), and (4) expansion of cultural amateurism (developing the dense network of cultural-artistic societies in urban and rural areas focused on popularizing folk dance, choral singing, performing of theatrical plays). It is also important to note that during the socialist period, the definition of legitimate culture was continually broadened, encompassing in the first place only high- art and authentic traditional folk practices to which were later added certain popular art practices (jazz, rock music, comic art, etc.). On the socialist cultural policy, see more in Majstorović (1977), Dimić (1988), and Doknić (2021). 6 Despite the fact that there are many similarities in the approach to cultural policy, particularly to the most commercial cultural forms during, for instance, Milošević era and Nazi Germany (1933–1945), such historical parallelisms did not attract the attention of researchers. Mostly the emphasis was put on the process of instrumentalization of commercial art products and the effects it had on the social and political engagement of the masses in the 1990s. Giving priority to “top-down” perspective did not allow for a more detailed analysis of consumers’ political views, cultural taste, and their interconnection. As a result, apart from consumers’ detachment from social reality and their immersion in the parallel world created via hyper reproduction of entertaining, light, unengaging, unprovocative forms by electronic media, other dimensions of the social and cultural being of the masses in this period were not analyzed or discussed. 7 We refer here to the social groups with lower economic and cultural capital. The quantity of cultural capital that, according to Bourdieu (1979), encompasses both the level of attained education and the class-related socialization, is particularly important. In the case of Serbia in the past 20 years, the groups that could be classified as lower strata
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 161 can be found mainly among those with or without primary education. According to the 2011 Census (see 2011 Census Atlas 2014: 40), 20.8% of the population of 15 years and over completed only primary school, while 11% had incomplete primary education, and 2.7% did not have any formal education. Therefore, at least 34.5% of the whole Serbian population (7,186,862) belongs to this strata according to cultural capital criteria while probably more other categories could be included if the socialization process is taken into consideration. 8 Of particular importance was to create legal acts in order to reorganize and restructure different cultural segments, to adopt long-term strategies, to regulate the mass media sphere, to conform to the EU legal norms particularly in connection with the intellectual property rights, to determine the budgeting of cultural institutions and manifestations, etc. See Đukić-Dojčinović (2003), Vukanović (2013), and Paunović (2020). 9 The first phase coincides with the governments whose PMs were Zoran Đinđić (2001– 2003) and Zoran Živković (2003), the second – with the governments led by Vojislav Koštunica (2004–2007, 2007–2008) and Mirko Cvetković (2008–2012), and the third – with four consecutive governments formed by the Serbian Progressive Party and its political allies. 10 See the List of references. 11 After the dissolution of the Socialist Federative Republic of Yugoslavia in 1991, in April 1992 former Yugoslav republics of Serbia and Montenegro founded a unified, federal state named the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. It was imposed sanctions by the UN Security Council in May 1992 until October 1996 that included restrictions on international trade, travelling, and scientific, cultural, and sports cooperation and exchange. Two years later, in March 1998, the same body adopted another round of sanctions that lasted until the fall of Milošević. See Balkans Briefing: Sanctions against the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia 2000. 12 The quotes from their writings and interviews were selected and listed in the following sections. 13 This process encompassed the modernization of the technical infrastructure along with the adoption of new legal acts and the establishment of the bodies in charge of media controlling and monitoring. See Radulović (2001), Vidić (2005), and Miljković (2005). 14 It should be noted that the first results of this process became manifest in late 2002 and early 2003. See more in Miljković (2005: 211–218). 15 They encompassed, among other things, hiring of experts whose primary role was to reshape the programming and to enable the creation and distribution of high-quality informative and cultural-educational content. See Grujić (2001) and Spaić (2001). 16 As a result, the acclaimed experts and artists who had no ties with the ruling political parties nor were obliged to follow the party interests in their work were appointed to the positions of managers or program directors of certain institutions. Guaranteeing autonomy in managing of institutions, and selecting the competent staff gave rise to an unexpectedly rapid revitalization of a number of institutions and manifestation that produced very modest results and faced a lot of problems with material, technical, and human resources in the 1990s, such as the Belgrade Philharmonic Orchestra, the Museum of Contemporary Arts, the Historical Archives of Belgrade, the BEMUS music festival, the FEST film festival, etc. See Dragićević-Šešić, Mikić, and Jovičić (2007); Toković (2019: 58–59, 168–171, 204–205); Mladenović (2001); Premate (2003); Ast (2005); and Ćirić (2012). 17 Turbofolk represented at first a current of the very internally differentiated newlycomposed folk music production in the late 1980s, but since its amalgamation with the
162 Ivana Vesić dance and techno music of the early 1990s, and later the foundation of TV Pink (1994) and the record label Grand produkcija (1998), it started to establish itself as an autonomous cultural phenomenon. Most of the 1990s turbofolk stars started their careers as performers of the newly-composed folk music, but only after the 2000s a new generation of singers with no previous experience with this type of music were brought to the fore. Still, the interconnections between these two types of production is not possible to deny, nor it is, from the research perspective, necessary to create strict divisions between them. The only sharply distinctive characteristic regarding turbofolk or the newly-composed folk music is the average social profile of their consumers – the former are primarily from younger generations and urban settings, while the latter come from middle-aged or older generations both from urban and rural areas. On the diversification of the newly composed folk music in the 1970s and particularly 1980s, see Rasmussen (2002: 95– 140). See also Vesić (2009: 16–19). 18 See Gordi (2001: 148–150), Kronja (2001, 2013), and Anonymous (2009a). A critical examination of the presumptions in which the link between turbofolk and organized crime is emphasized can be found in Krsmanović (2020). 19 The change of course in the media sphere, although announced by Milošević’s opponents and intellectual and artistic circles before the 5 October 2000’s turn, actually took place without any formal decisions from the “above”. As many contemporaries noted, there was a sharp discontinuity in the cultural content of popular TV and radio stations that probably resulted from their owner’s adjustment to the expected shifts in cultural policy. 20 A member of a popular rock band from the socialist era, Bajaga i instruktori, Aleksandar Saša Lokner noted that it can be determined how much the position of rock and roll has changed since October 5, 2000. Before that, based on the presence of folk and dance music in the programs, it seemed that the rock scene did not exist at all. Fortunately, most influential TV stations have modified their program policies and suddenly a large number of low- budget music videos of the new bands are broadcasted. (Pavlović 2000) His colleague, the frontman of the group Eva Braun, Goran Vasović Vaske, stated that before the political turn it was unimaginable for “RTS to play a music video or to host a band [...]” and that this gives hope for a “better perspective” not only for him as an individual but for the society as whole as well (Grujić 2000). 21 The anthology (Belgrade: Studentski kulturni centar, 2001) which was redacted by journalist Goran Tarlać and musician, journalist, literary theorist, and theatrologist Vladimir Đurić Đura encompasses writings of Eric Gordy, Saša Radojević, Rade Stanić, and musician Rambo Amadeus. 22 On the socialist Yugoslavia, “Kitsch Tax” and anti-kitsch music narratives see more in Čvoro (2014: 43–47). 23 For instance, some music producers announced the beginning of a “radical struggle against (musical) kitsch” by releasing new albums of rock musicians in late 2001, while certain musicians appealed to the authorities to start investing in quality products and thus help current children to achieve high standards regarding culture and art in 10 years, and not to listen to Croatian and Bosnian performers and our ethno-pop-dance [turbofolk] ‘artists’ from whom will be raised a perverted generation. (Semerad 2001a, 2001b)
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 163 24 PGP-RTS, and other companies in Serbia, focused on world music primarily because of the possibilities regarding the diversity of consumers and the transcending of boundaries of the national music industry and market (see Vesić 2009). Since the world music production, in the Serbian music industry, more often labelled “ethno music”, was grounded on different aspects of broadly defined traditional folk music – whether through the use of traditional instruments, forgotten vocal, and instrumental forms from rural areas or the reference to urban folk music, traditional Roma or newly composed Roma folk music from the socialist period, or even post-Byzantine chanting –the capacity of it to attract listeners from different generations and social background and with incompatible musical preferences were not insignificant. 25 According to the results of one such research that was conducted in 2005, genres like traditional folk music and old urban folk music were the most popular at the population level and had the least negative judgements of the respondents (see Cvetičanin 2007: 218). These types of music were selected as the most favourite among the bearers of the so- called folk, “rurban” and conventional taste (Cvetičanin 2007: 223). In Cvetičanin’s typology (2007: 204–206), the folk taste is formed in the framework of traditional folk culture and its bearers are those who live in the rural areas along with those who are settled in urban areas but with a rural social background, mostly with modest education (primary school, incomplete primary school) and dedicated to farming or manual work. The “rurban” taste is characteristic for the part of the population that displays an omnivore approach to cultural consumption showing preference for both folk cultural production (mostly the newly composed folk music) and popular cultural products (pop music, telenovelas, etc.). The conventional taste refers to the “safe” choices of cultural objects – the ones that are already accepted and legitimized in a formal manner. In a later research from 2010, the results were very similar. Traditional folk music and old urban folk music were again in the first two positions out of eighteen selected genres in terms of general preferences of respondents. Besides, they were placed in the first five positions regarding the respondents’ choice of favourite genres. (See Cvetičanin and Milankov 2011: 30). 26 Cf. Mijatović (2012). While framing this festival of traditional folk music within the world music aesthetic and performing standards, cultural policymakers also used it to introduce a specific version of cultural democratization. Giving space to different practices of local folk music production –from traditional, to newly composed, ethno, and turbofolk –particularly in the side programme, meant a support for a broader definition of a legitimate culture, one that could be extended to low-brow, commercial production. In short, Guča Festival represented a place of coexistence of different “folk cultures”, from authentic to commercial, locally or globally relevant, where cultural needs and tastes of lower classes could be taken into account and integrated into the narrative of “preservation of cultural heritage” as well as the festival’s dual, at the same time “low” (entertainment, tourism) and “high cultural” (cultivating the tradition of virtuoso brass band playing) aspirations. The attempt at merging different cultural values and practices that promoted them was mostly understood by the members of the intellectual elite as a sign of “vulgarisation” of this festival in the populist manner and was criticized as such. 27 Such stations have been continuously popular in smaller towns and rural areas since the 1970s, and their programming was almost exclusively based on music selected by listeners themselves, whose large part was created in order to mark important life cycle events –marriage, serving the army, giving birth to a child, etc. or to celebrate key social roles –parenthood, grandparenthood, brotherhood, sisterhood, godparenthood, etc. See Rasmussen (2002: 81); Cf. Sudar (2020).
164 Ivana Vesić 28 Ceca performed at the celebrations of the “Serbian Orthodox New Year” in Niš (2006) and Belgrade (2007), and held a mass concert at the Belgrade Ušće in 2007. One of the turbofolk rising stars, Seka Aleksić, that stood out in the mid-2000s, held her first mass concert in 2010 in the Belgrade Arena in front of about 10,000 people from all parts of the former Yugoslavia, as was reported in the press (M. A. 2010). In the same year, and for the next few years in a row, Aca Lukas also performed in the Belgrade Arena, attracting on average about 20,000 listeners (M. R. 2011) 29 On Sinan Sakić and the band and production team named Južni vetar, see more in Rasmussen (2002: 123–138). 30 There is an important distinction between the approach of Serbian (and Croatian) policymakers of the early 2000s and the policymakers of the late socialist period. Apart from suppressing “kitsch” music from the dominant public sphere in the 1970s that was followed with widespread public criticism of its aesthetic and ethic dimensions and overall social influence, it represented only a portion of socialist cultural policy whose one of the main priorities was to minimize sociocultural inequalities. The delegitimization and marginalization of newly-composed folk music at the time were accompanied with large-scale activities on cultural enlightenment of children and youth (and adults) through the work of numerous sport, educational and cultural organizations as well as state-owned television and radio stations, on making institutions that promoted legitimate culture more open and accessible to lower classes, on developing a large network of cultural institutions in rural areas, etc. 31 As a result of the extreme proliferation of the reality programming on the media with national coverage, particularly in the 2010s, an initiative for additional taxation of this type of media content was publicly announced by the director of the Novi Sad Cultural Centre (see Anonymous 2015). It was not supported either by the Minister of Culture, or the Serbian government. 32 See Ilić (2021). Cf. Bieber, Prelec, Jović, and Nechev (2020); Todosijević (2021). 33 Prof. Branimir Nestorović, a pulmonologist and former Belgrade University professor, stood out during 2020 and 2021 as one of the most prominent conspiracy theorists in the Serbian electronic and digital media. At the time, he was also appointed a member of the Serbian government’s Crisis Committee. 34 Since the 1970s, cultural policymakers in the Socialist Republic of Serbia organized a series of tours of leading drama, opera, ballet, folk dance and music, choral, and other ensembles to the provincial towns every year. Although many of the researchers who discussed the “Serbia in Serbia” project referred to the models of Scotland and northern European countries where the practice of tours of national cultural institutions and their ensembles to the smaller towns and villages became common, only a few of them noticed an unusual analogy with the steps that were taken by the socialist Yugoslavia and Serbia political elite (see Anonymous 2009b). 35 See Paunović (2020: 325); Vukanović (2013: 39, 94); Lazarević (2011: 14–18). 36 The sociological research on consumption and taste from the 1970s onwards, particularly the seminal work of French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu (a creator of the concepts of distinction and cultural capital) as well as the group of acclaimed American sociologists such as Richard Peterson, Paul Hirsch, and Paul DiMaggio pointed to the importance of the role of education and early socialization and family background (cultural capital) as some of the key factors in the forming of aesthetic preferences and also cultural needs and habits. The crucial role of the reproduction of class differences in cultural consumption and shaping of taste patterns is well documented in the large number of
Reforming Cultural Policy in Post-Milošević Serbia 165 their published work along with the high-class members’ need to distinguish themselves from the lower-positioned groups. Aside from the process of distinction which is closely intertwined with cultural consumption, it is the division between legitimate (high) culture and its “opposites” (low cultures) that actualizes it. 37 As it was already pointed out, the focus was at the time placed on reshaping the media content, on symbolically delegitimizing local commercial genres from the 1990s, and on imposing the acceptable cultural substitutes. 38 During the 1970s and 1980s, the League of the Socialist Youth of Yugoslavia and its collective members, such as the Scout Association of Yugoslavia, the Touristic Association of Yugoslavia, the Association of Yugoslav Pioneers, the National Technique of Yugoslavia, the Music Youth of Yugoslavia, the Bureau for International Exchange of Youth and Students, the Mountaineering Association of Yugoslavia and the Association for Physical Culture represented an important factor in socializing and educating of Yugoslav children and youth of different social background. Similar organizations were not founded after the 2000s, nor were there any initiatives for that. 39 Both televisions are assumed to represent the pillars of the ruling SPS propaganda machinery and, as such, the mediators of its most important political and cultural goals. 40 Focusing primarily on the bearers of the “rurban” taste, as the regular visitors to entertainment venues in Belgrade’s Strahinjića bana Street, several Philharmonic musicians performed with a large banner on which the message of a provocative character was printed. Not treating the guests of bars and restaurants from that part of the city as their potential audience, the management of this prestigious orchestra seemed to intend to say that high culture would certainly survive without their support and that, perhaps, it is good that they are not interested in it, because maybe they could “spoil” it. Considering the cultural policy in the last twenty years, there is an impression that a similar message followed as a counterpoint to the populist vision of empowered lower classes.
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9 “Slaves in Our Country” Postcolonialism or Neocolonialism? Dynamics of Nationalism in Romania and the Rise of the Populist Right Valentin Quintus Nicolescu Romania’s peripherality, nationhood and history: a necessary reappraisal “The historical experience of Soviet-controlled territories or satellite states is strangely absent from theorizations of the postcolonial” noted Cristina Șandru in 2016 (Șandru 2016: 156) when discussing the challenges of the European postsocialist space from a postcolonial perspective. The postcolonial approach, forged by Western imperialism and colonial rule around the globe, has developed little tools in its inventory able to tackle the multitude of colonial experiences in Europe itself in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries –different geo-historical backgrounds, a distinct model of imperial domination and exploitation compared with the extra- European colonization, different interactions with modernity, various instances of self-colonization, and so on. Before tackling the issue of nation(hood) in the Eastern European periphery generally and in Romania particularly, a questioning of some core concepts is needed in order to ensure that the following pages will provide a more clear and critically accurate account of the processes involved in the contemporary dynamics of production and re-production of nation. Thus, a reappraisal is needed when using concepts like European peripherality, nation(hood), and historical identitary discourse. Contextualizing periphery in the Romanian case
Since it was proposed by Lenin in 1917, the core-periphery dyad has had quite a career in social sciences, from Immanuel Wallerstein’s World-System approach (2004) to the Latin American dependencia theory and the newer institutionalist “reversal of fortune” approach of Acemoglu, Johnson, and Robinson (2002, 2012). There is a plurality of ways to apply the concept, depending on the theoretical framework used in order to explain a certain reality. In any given social setting, one can identify a centre and a periphery, reflecting social, cultural, economic, or political hierarchies operating in that particular case and that could be spatially illustrated as an abstract model of those respective hierarchies. Thus, for example, in international relations, when looking at states by using the concept of power accumulation/maximization, we can easily identify a core, composed of the so- called Great Powers, and a periphery consisting of states which, due to certain DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-13
Dynamics of Nationalism in Romania and Populist Right 171 causes –depending on the explicative mechanism chosen –have not managed to increase their power in a similar manner. When adding the spatial dimension regarding the distribution of those political units on the world map and discussing their interactions, we are operating with geopolitical analysis. Therefore, there is a need to clarify and specify the criteria used to define the core-periphery distinction. In this chapter, I will use the term “periphery” from two perspectives –economic and symbolic. In the following sections, I will try to discuss them in detail, while connecting them to the particular case of Romanian dynamics of nation and nationalism. Economic peripherality in post-communist Europe: The Romanian experience
First, in the tradition established since Marx (Dussel and Yanez 1990) and later Lenin, the economic one. Derek Aldcroft, in his book Europe’s Third World. The European Periphery in the Interwar Years (2006) uses two main defining criteria in relation to which he identifies the European periphery –as encompassing those countries that have missed out on the industrial revolution and therefore had, at the beginning of the twentieth century, “around one half or more of their population dependent on agriculture and with incomes per capita of less than 50 percent of those of the advanced nations of Western Europe” (Aldcroft 2006: 3). Thus, Ashcroft noted that, for the respective epoch, the European periphery on its Eastern part was made up of Poland, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, and Yugoslavia, the Baltic states and, in the South-East, Turkey, Albania, and Greece (Aldcroft 2006: 3). To the abovementioned criteria, I would also add the presence of a (neo-)extractivist model of underdevelopment (Acosta 2013: 61–82; Svampa 2019: 6–7) in at least parts of the countries listed by Aldcroft. In the particular case of Romania, it’s interesting to note that the characteristics mentioned by Aldcroft for the beginning of the twentieth century are still present. Romania still has the highest population involved in agricultural activities in the EU, while the income per capita is still less than half of that of the Western Europe, being one of the smallest in the Union. According to Eurostat, in 2019, Romania experienced one of the highest inequalities in disposable income with 34% after Bulgaria (40%), Lithuania (35.4%), and Latvia (35.2%) (Eurostat 2021). At the same time, when investigating the presence of (neo-)extractivist practices, again we must look at the agriculture and also at the forestry area. Here we can see that the land-grabbing practices in Romania are by far the worst in Europe. The numbers are staggering: 40% of Romania’s agricultural land is owned by firms and corporations from outside the EU, with an additional 20% to 30% being owned by EU economic actors (Burja, Tamas-Szora, and Dobra 2020: 7). From this perspective, connecting neoextractivist practices with the wider concept of neocolonialism and its avatar, dependency, could provide researchers of the European periphery with a more refined theoretical tool that eventually would reshape our understanding of the region. At the same time, neocolonialism itself should be reappraised, in order to include the European historical experiences. The Eastern empires (Ottoman, Russian, Austrian) were themselves missing out on the
172 Valentin Quintus Nicolescu industrial revolution, thus being predominantly agrarian and poor when compared to their western counterparts. This structural weakness led to an early independentist movement during the nineteenth century in the Balkans, creating new states like Greece, Serbia, Bulgaria, and Romania and eventually to the collapse of all three abovementioned empires after the First World War and the emergence of the rest of the Eastern periphery. Moreover, the inherent weakness of the imperial polities means that a crucial element of neocolonialism’s definition is not present in the Eastern European case. Looking at one of the early iterations of neocolonialism in an international context, by Ghana’s foreign minister under Khwame Nkrumah, Alex Quaison-Sackey in 1958, we see that by neocolonialism he understood: “the practice of granting a sort of independence with the concealed intention of making the liberated country a client-state, and controlling it effectively by means other than political ones” (in Uzoigwe 2019: 62), clearly a statement of what later on Nkrumah will label as the “last stage of imperialism” (Nkrumah 1966: ix). This definition remained mostly unchanged throughout the past decades, a good illustration being offered by W.O. Malomba in his 2017 book on neocolonialism in Kenia between 1963 and 1978, who still uses Nkrumah theoretical view, considering that neocolonialism must be understood as a relation between the former metropole and the newly independent colonies, in which the latter have their sovereignty compromised by the former through an “economic chokehold” (Maloba 2017: 5). Godfrey Uzoigwe has a similar approach and actually points out the limits of the definition, by concluding that “it is misleading to see current Chinese, Indian, and Brazilian proceedings in Africa, Asia, Latin America, or the Middle East as neo- colonial” (Uzoigwe 2019: 62). Uzoigwe’s position confines neocolonial relations strictly to the interactions between the former colonizing power and the ex-colony, therefore excluding a vast array of contemporary developments and cases. To be more specific, let’s return to the East European region. Here, as stated above, the structural weakness of the imperial power(s) and its subsequent demise during the short twentieth century meant that the neocolonial relation as it’s nowadays defined could not have taken place –the former imperial metropoles were unable to create a dependency-based relationship with the territories they formerly controlled. Moreover, the nature of the empires in the area (continental, predominantly agrarian, overall poorer than their western counterparts) meant that the process of imperial expansion and colonization was not necessarily driven by economic reasons (but prestige, power, and so forth derived from a feudal logic), resembling more the early European colonization of the Americas and Africa. Therefore, their model of relating to the occupied territories was not built on capitalist exploitation, but on venality, taxation/tribute, and resource/goods appropriation through extractive practices, just like in the case of any other precapitalist empire. Nevertheless, the collapse of the Central and East European empires after the First World War meant that their place was taken over first by the short-lived Third Reich, followed by almost half a century of Soviet hegemony. But after the end of the Cold War and the demise of the Soviet Union, in the emerging new East European order, the opportunity presented itself for the former Western global colonizing powers to gain an economically dependent hinterland in the Eastern and South-Eastern periphery,
Dynamics of Nationalism in Romania and Populist Right 173 a situation eerily similar with the pre-First World War period when the Balkan states gained their independence from the Ottoman Empire only to find themselves economically dependent on the Western powers, “gaining” a semi-colonial status (Aldcroft 2006: 18–19). Nevertheless, the term “semi-colonial” should be used with caution when discussing the region, for a number of reasons that constitute the economic specificity of the European periphery. If the pre-First World War economies of the Balkan states were predominantly agrarian and the little industrial output was usually a product of resource exploitation (as was the case of Romania’s oilfields), the communist regimes after 1945 embarked in ambitious Soviet-style industrialization plans that profoundly transformed the countries in the region. In the case of Romania, the national- Stalinist developmentalism aspired to surpass the agricultural dependency status from before the second world war and to make Romania a medium-sized industrial power (Ban 2014: 44). As a result, between 1950 and 1974, the country experienced a 68% growth per decade, while the industrial production index grew between 1950 and 1968 with more than 545 points, surpassing Spain (378) or Greece (362), and in 1989, when the regime was toppled, 53% of the county’s GDP was originated in the industrial sector and, more importantly for the subject at hand, the percent of industrial workers from the labour force increased to almost 40% (Ban 2014: 50). Thus, clearly different from the non-European cases of neocolonialism, Romania after 1989 (as many other of its counterparts in the Eastern periphery) was left with a relatively strong manufacturing and heavy industry and with a significant qualified labour force, far from the usually mono- industrial economies of the non-European postcolonial world. But the neoliberal shock therapies adopted by most countries in the region during the 1990s leading to deindustrialization, high unemployment, inflation, and social disintegration (Scheiring and King: 2022), fuelling the migratory phenomenon in the twenty-first century. In order to address the specificities of the region, Andreas Nölke and Arjan Vliegenhart coined a new term to describe the capitalist model emerging in the aria –Dependent Market Economies (DME) –from a comparative capitalism perspective (Nölke and Vliegenhart 2009). The model proposed by them applied at the time only to the Czech Republic, Hungary, Poland, and the Slovak Republic, and it entails what the authors call “comparative advantages” such as “skilled, but cheap, labour; the transfer of technological innovations within transnational enterprises; and the provision of capital via foreign direct investment” (Nölke and Vliegenhart 2009: 672). As a matter of fact, all three so-called comparative advantages are in reality markers of dependency and stalled development –technologies and production equipment come and go with the transnational enterprises, and so is the capital, while the peripheral country remains with its labour force and some infrastructure. Perhaps the best example is offered by the Nokia factory that opened in Jucu, Romania in 2008, and closed in 2011 due to “the need to optimize production processes, with priority given to factories in Asia” (HotNews 2011). And this, according to the authors, was the “good” variant of capitalism in the region. For the rest of the countries – at least at the time – a more appropriate definition was “cocktail capitalism” (Nölke and Vliegenhart 2009: 673, 692), a term proposed by
174 Valentin Quintus Nicolescu economist Lucian Cernat in order to describe Romania’s incoherent mix of policies and institutions during the transitional period of the 1990s and early 2000s (Cernat 2006). Summing up the argument, in the particular case of the Eastern and South- Eastern European periphery, the postcolonial approach should be amended due to the fact that in this specific region, the core-periphery relation does not reflect past colonial relations (due to the nature of the Eastern empires and their subsequent collapse), but a relation with the Western former colonial powers that took over the role of the metropole for the countries in the area. Secondly, the nature of the economic interaction with the Western core should be again understood through the lens of the region’s historical development and subsequent dependency and deindustrialization during the transitional period, elements that caused, amongst other things, at least in the Romanian case, a vast migration of labour force towards Western Europe. In other words, the migratory phenomenon should be understood as one of the markers of peripherality in Eastern Europe, and has having a powerful impact on the shape and form of the nationalist discourse in the region. The neocolonialism of transnational corporations and companies, of international financial institutions pushing the neoliberal agenda, and also of the Western European powers work together like a well-oiled “machine-making periphery” (Alonso-Fradejas 2020) in the South-Eastern and Eastern parts of Europe, fuelling at the same time “sovereigntist”, anti-globalist and euro-sceptic nationalist tropes in the region. Symbolic periphery
If, in economic terms, periphery might appear as an objective, concrete term, there is also a subjective, symbolic interpretation of this reality. Thus, I consider it useful to employ the core-periphery dyad as a symbolic feature of the nationalist imaginary, seen as a way in which things are represented and structured in order to create a cohesive explanatory narrative regarding the manner in which we cope –as collectivities or as individuals –with a particular state of affairs. In other words, I see the core-periphery dyad also as a narrative creating relations, identities, and loyalties. A canonical Marxian interpretation would let us believe that the symbolic realm is an ideological artefact meant to hide reality from individuals, therefore, a false representation of things governing people’s livelihoods, a lie. But in fact, as long as it’s believed, a narrative is real for the believer. The socio-economic facts have little to no weight when it comes to grand identitary narratives hence the power of nation over class. There are always easier answers to the hard questions involving our lives, usually disconnecting the individuals from their everyday struggles and placing them in an imaginary realm of heroes, epic struggles of good versus evil, or threatening otherness and mythical origins. As long as Althusserian ideological apparatuses are at work (re)producing a hegemonic worldview and reinforcing group identities, no class consciousness is possible. Its place is taken by ingroup narratives usually translated into nationalistic tales of “us” and “them”, forging powerful perceptions of reality that eventually trickle down, engendering
Dynamics of Nationalism in Romania and Populist Right 175 collective action, mobilization, and representation. Thus, the class consciousness is replaced by the mythical one. Consequently, the symbolic periphery should be understood as an ideological view of material realities defining Eastern European self-perceptions and relationships vis-à-vis Western narratives and internal societal necessities of symbolic coherence, and also as constructing an explanatory narrative of those material realities and of their accompanying ideological discursive structures. Before imagined communities (Anderson 2006), there were imagined realities. When discussing symbolic peripheries, following on Said’s (1979) steps, one should distinguish between two distinct instances –one of those imagining the periphery, and the one of those who are subjected to the discourse regarding peripherality. In the European case, we need to distinguish between Western views and Eastern views. One involving alterity, the other concerned with selfhood within a wider symbolic framework regarding identitary narratives. Larry Wolff (1994) recounts Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s trip to Constantinople in 1717, and her worries ahead of her passage through the Eastern parts of Europe and the “terrors” she would have to encounter there. Wolff gives ample space to Lady Mary’s various impressions and experiences she had along her route, but one is relevant for the subject at hand: while passing through Hungary, she noticed the “Rascians” (whom she wrongly named after the clan chieftaincy of Raska, which predated the medieval Serbian state), noting that they “were ‘a race of Creatures who are very numerous all over Hungary’, looked like ‘Vagabond Gypsies,’ belonged to the Greek Church, and lived in ‘extreme ignorance’ ” (Wolff 1994: 42). These poor “Rascians” are most probably the Vlach population living in Hungary and Transylvania, the future Romanians. Lady Mary’s perception is a good illustration of the Western imaginary construction of Eastern Europe –she gives little attention to their identity, names them after a Serbian historic figure, and racializes them as inferior, in the well- established tradition of Western encounters with non-European others during the age of exploration and colonization. And the image gets clearer when looking at how Charles-Marie, marquis de Salaberry, summarized the relationship between the West and the East in a typical illuminist manner when he contrasted Paris and other cities of Western Europe with the Eastern parts of the continent –the West is the centre of civilization, while the East was the land of the night, where people are blind from birth because they have never had any chance to see Western Europe (Wolff 1994: 47). It is, more or less, a reference to the Platonic myth of the cave, where those residing in the West are similar to the philosophers, enlightened not by knowledge of the truth, but by the light of civilization, which is understood as the only true path for the progress of humanity, while those residing in the East are imprisoned by the chains of barbary in the cave of superstition and primitivism, never able to gain the full humanity provided by civilization. Here we find the origins of the later “white man’s burden” that would feed the tropes of twentieth- century racism and echoed today in the far-right “replacement theory” or in the hateful anti-immigrant rhetoric in the UK that warned of the Romanian and Polish barbarian “invasion” of Britain and would later fuel the Brexit movement. Not the same perceptions are to be encountered though when travelling to the United
176 Valentin Quintus Nicolescu States –Tocqueville, as Chateaubriand put it, travelled to “civilized America” in 1835 and 1840 (Grudzinska Gross 1991: 5), while Astolphe de Custine’s encounter with Russia in 1839 provided him with an image of “extreme barbarism” (Custine 2002: 4) of an “alien and dangerous country” for someone coming from “the very centre of civilization”, as Irena Gruzinska Gross (1991: 11) put it. Tocqueville is not discovering a world, he never left the civilized space, the “centre”, and the lens he uses to view the American polity are those of a civilized people, similar to those he left back in the Old World. He therefore can extract knowledge for his European peers from the American political experiment, while Custine and all travellers and writers mentioned by Wolff or by Vesna Goldsworthy (Goldsworthy 1998) can only find contempt and a profound sense of moral and cultural superiority when going to the East. The essence of the Western symbolic centre is that it offers a standard of civilization with which one can measure the barbary of the East. We can see that, symbolically, the core-periphery distinction operates much as it did for the ancient Greeks and probably more or less for any human societies in history, as a complex superposed distinction between an imagined “us” and an imaginary “them”, the Greeks and the barbarians, placed in an imagined geo-cultural space where the Greeks are in the centre, in their cities, gods, and order, defending against a wilderness of both unruly human troglodytes and beasts (Vidal-Naquet 1986). It is what Mircea Eliade was calling the imago mundi where men sought to live as close to the Centre of the World as possible, and where “our” world is always situated at the symbolic centre (Eliade 1987: 42–47). This imagery is the archetypal construction of the Other, and when inserted into nationalist discourse, becomes a powerful constitutive element of the national identitary hubris. The core-periphery dyad also applies to political regimes, where the light of popular sovereignty is opposed by the temptation of Oriental Despotism (Wolff 1994: 62) but also, in the contemporary world, to the way in which scholars construct the most used typology of nations and nationalisms –civic versus ethnic. From its origins, in the work of German historian Frederick Meineke, the distinction between civic-individualist and ethno-collectivist nationalisms dominates the scholarship within the nations and nationalisms field, from the modernist approach of Ernest Geller to the current dominant ethno- symbolist paradigm initiated by Anthony Smith. There is an inherent qualitative difference between the two – the civic model, specific to Western societies, is seen as superior and implicitly good, while the ethnic model, corresponding to Central South-Eastern and Eastern European societies, is seen as inferior, backward and therefore bad, and considered to be the cause of international conflicts at least in the twentieth century (Nicolescu 2015: 58–59, 64). Consequently, there is civilized nationalism and a primitive one, based on an imagined cultural and political geography with the Western world at its centre. But let’s turn back to those poor “Rascians” seen by Lady Mary in 1717. What happened to them? What were they thinking during their encounter with her and her escort? How were they seeing themselves? We will probably never know, but what is certain is that several years later, in 1735, a Transylvanian Uniate bishop, Innocentius Klein (Ioan Micu), started to speak for those Rascians, calling them
Dynamics of Nationalism in Romania and Populist Right 177 by a different name –Romanians, and asking the Habsburg Emperor to recognize their rights, igniting what would become the construction of Romanian national identity. This illustrates the second abovementioned aspect of the core-periphery distinction, regarding the self-perceptions of those in the periphery, in this case, the Romanians. What is important to note in this case is the way in which the Western discourses and political imaginary become part of the peripheral identitary narrative or are used to construct it. The model of the Empire as an economic, political, and symbolic centre was taken up by Eastern societies trying to construct their own national project. Thus, almost all the states in the South-Eastern European periphery have some sort of an imperial past to rely upon when constructing their own national-historical and mythical identitary narrative –Serbs have the medieval Serbian Empire of Dušan the Mighty (see Vujačič 2015; Malešević 2002, Dragović-Soso 2002), the Bulgars also have their Czarate built by Simeon the Great during the tenth century (see Daskalov 2004; Browning 1975), Hungarians have both Atilla’s Hunic Empire and the apostolic Kingdom of St. Stephen, while Poland and Lithuania had the biggest European medieval political organization claiming national heroes on both sides. In the Romanian case, this meant that the future Romanians, as an epitomic borderland culture, had to invent their own imperial past that would represent a legitimate claim to nationhood. In order to do so, the thin Transylvanian Romanian elite at the end of the eighteenth century found the best imperial root for a new nation –the Roman Empire. Romanians were not only (neo-)latins, they were the heirs of Rome, descendants of a noble race that not only made history and founded the European worldview as we know it, but superior to all other claimed empires in the European periphery. Therefore, a whole new identitary narrative begun to take shape, pioneered by a small number of intellectuals (what sometimes is called “an intellectual elite”) that started to work on the “Latinization” of the barbarian neo-Latin populace in the Habsburg Empire in order to gain civic and political rights. Such was the endeavour of the Ardelean School, who embarked on to the Latinization process, which unfortunately resulted into a language that no grass-roots Romanian could understand (Nicolescu 2014: 129). But the Ardelean School had two important ideas that were to last –adopting the Latin alphabet and creating an imperial identity for the former Rascians, that would eventually turn into a national one. And they also added an illuminist approach to the national struggle –apart from the intellectual core, the rest of the social body was seen as barbaric, needing to be enlightened by an epistemic leadership embodied by the very people noticing it. This, in my opinion is a reflection of the way in which the nation was constructed in the East – as a self-colonizing social engineering project. The newly created cultural and political elites sought to construct an ideological framework for their national project that would be compatible with the Western view on the subject. Therefore, the nation, at least in this case, needs to be understood as a by-product of the symbolic core- periphery interaction, as a contagion of ideological patterns that were adapted and transformed locally in order to be compatible with a wider order, embodied by the Western cultures and states. Similarly, the construction of the nation-state as a modernizing process was inspired by Western institutions and practices which were
178 Valentin Quintus Nicolescu literally imported from the “civilized world” during the second half of the nineteenth century. In his seminal work, Neoiobăgia (The Neo-Serfdom) written at the dawn of the twentieth-century Constantin Dobrogeanu-Gherea noted that, for the Romanian political elite, the Western “political and social institutions appeared to them as a kind of civilized dress, which by replacing the oriental style transformed [the country] ipso facto from oriental to civilized” (Gherea 1910: 1–2). (Re)production of nation in Romania and the ascension of the far-right populist nationalism National communism as a constitutive part of contemporary dynamics of Romanian nationalism
In March 1990, just several months after the revolution that ended the reign of Nicolae Ceaușescu and of the Communist Party, Hungarians, and Romanians took to arms against each other in the city of Târgu Mureș, resulting in at least six dead and several hundred wounded. The images were horrifying –men armed with made-shift weapons such as iron bars, clubs, or axes were chasing around on the streets, blockhouses, or in the courtyards beating each other to a pulp. The violence ended when the military finally stepped in, stopping what for some could have become the spark igniting another civil war in the Balkans. There are many ways in which the Târgu Mureș ethnic violence could be interpreted, but perhaps the most obvious one is as a result of the national-communist rhetoric which was aiming to turn the Romanian majority against the Hungarians living in the province of Transylvania. The most important aspect of the incident is, in my opinion, the fact that the ethnic hate promoted by the former regime had grassroots and was exploited by the new political elite in Bucharest to gain control over the society (Okey 2004: 132). The question is why, and how did it affect the evolution of Romanian nationalism after 1989? Therefore, the first thing that needs to be acknowledged is the fact that there is no “encounter” between Romanian society and nationalism after 1989, but there is a continuity. Nicolae Ceaușescu was promoting a paranoid nationalistic narrative regarding Romania’s neighbours, in the pursuit of a legitimizing discourse for a regime that lost the support from Moscow and was trying to build support for his own political project. When I was a little boy, during the Ceaușescu regime, I remember that we were taught to be prepared against all enemies at the border – Hungarians, Bulgarians, Russians. Only Yugoslavia and the Black Sea appeared to be friendly during those times. Later in life, various academic sources confirmed that Romania was preparing for a last-stand end-of-the-world kind of conflict against all of its neighbours. This was the result of a decades-long rejection and suspicion by the brotherly socialist states, led by the USSR, that started in the late 1960s (see Watts 2010: 33). This specific context was all that was needed for the Romanian socialist elite to decide that a change of national(ist) narrative was needed. When writing about the Romanian case in the early 1980s, Peter Zwick defined national communism as “the demand of a socialist state for the right to make its own socialist policies” (Zwick 1983: 117). While in itself true, it has to
Dynamics of Nationalism in Romania and Populist Right 179 be added that Zwick’s approach covers only half of the national-communist phenomenon. The Romanian communist leadership under Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej first made use of the destalinization process initiated by Khrushchev to completely reverse its meaning and thus purge the party of pro-Soviet members, accused of “Moscovite Imperialism” (Zwick: 118), in an early bold move to assert Romania’s independence from the USSR. Secondly, taking advantage of the Sino-Soviet dispute that took place at the beginning of the 1960s, Gheorghiu-Dej published in 1964 the Statement on the Stand of the Romanian Worker’s Party Concerning the Problems of the World Communist and Working Class Movement, where the national view on socialist and communist development was clearly stated, emancipating Romania from Soviet imperialism: The planned management of the national economy is one of the fundamental, essential and inalienable attributes of the sovereignty of the socialist state – the state plan being the chief means through which the socialist state achieves its political and socio-economic objectives, establishes the direction and rates of development of the national economy, its fundamental proportions, the accumulations, the measures for raising the people’s standards and cultural level. The sovereignty of the socialist state requires that it effectively and fully avails itself of on the means for the practical implementation of these attributes, holding in its hands all the levers of managing economic and social life. Transmitting such levers to the competence of super-state or extra-state bodies would turn sovereignty into a meaningless notion. (Zwick 1983: 120) The assertion of independence made in the Declaration became one of the cornerstones of Nicolae Ceaușescu’s regime after the demise of Gheorghiu-Dej in 1965. But Ceaușescu added a very important new ideological dimension to it – xenophobic nationalism, drawing on the pre-Second World War (far-right) nationalist heritage. After the so-called “July Theses” from 1971, a Chinese-inspired cultural revolution was initiated, aimed at transforming the collective consciousness and to produce “the new man” with his “multilaterally-developed conscience” that was seen as the foundation of the new socialist nation and would become the key to Romania’s leap into the golden age of communism. Seen perhaps as a mean of controlling and mobilizing the populace (Verdery 1991: 101) or as a way to re- legitimize the regime and gain popular support when the external involvement of the USSR disappeared and the Soviets were perceived as a threat and not as an ally, the nationalist discourse professed during the Ceauşescu era put a Marxist–Leninist spin on the interwar far-right nationalist tropes while at the same time integrating into the party ideological line writers, historians and intellectuals that were previously seen as undesirables due to their (sometimes extremist) nationalistic writings. The result was a new narrative on national identity and history that portrayed the Romanian people as a heroic collective fighter against all foreign invaders and empires, fiercely defending their independence throughout the millennia. As a marker of the anti-imperialist stance of this new, reframed, hegemonic discourse
180 Valentin Quintus Nicolescu on national identity was the adoption of proto-chronism pseudo-scholarship and of Thracomaniac ideology as essential traits defining Romanian history. Both were predating the communist regime, being initiated in the nineteenth century, and resuscitated by the far right during the interwar period; thus the Ceauşescu regime only needed to adapt it to the Marxist–Leninist ideological narrative. Thus, the origin story of the Romanian people shifted, leaving its Latinist roots for the Dacian identity: the Romans were perceived as symbolizing a colonizing imperialist power, while the virtuous Dacians were the epitome of a small, indigenous peaceful people fighting to defend their independence. This “historical” view became the official position of the Romanian Communist Party (RCP), Dragoş Petrescu noting that in historical section of the RCP programme published in 1974, the Dacians were regarded as the main origins of the Romanians, not the Romans, the name of Emperor Trajan (who conquered Dacia and made it a Roman province) not even being mentioned (Petrescu 2009: 534). Later, in 1980, one of Nicolae Ceauşescu’s brothers, General Ilie Ceauşescu, published the regime’s view on national military security from a historical perspective in a voluminous book entitled, The Entire People’s War for the Defence of the Country in Romania (Războiul întregului popor pentru apărarea patriei la Români) where the entirety of Romanian history was rewritten from the newly forged national-communist and anti-imperialist worldview (Ceauşescu 1980) that put the Romanian nation at its centre, seen as a collective agent, consciously forging its own defensive destiny by fighting against foreign invaders and empires. This was to become the official military doctrine of the Romanian communist state during the 1980s, based on the belief that people would spontaneously rise and arm themselves against any foreign invader in order to protect their socialist accomplishments. Thus, the Patriotic Guards were established as a mass militia organization, in case of conflict, its core of some 900,000 members could have been expanded to a staggering six million recruits (Crowther 1989: 213), while in schools was created the Young People’s Training for the Defence of The Country (Pregătirea Tineretului pentru Apărarea Patriei – PTAP), a joint-action of the National Defence Ministry and the Pioneers Organization that aimed at training school children for a “defensive anti-imperialist war “ (Toma et al. 1978: 3). What the communist regime did in regard to its take on nation and nationalism was simply to identify class with nation (not replacing it though), thus offering a completely new view on the issue and therefore managing to transform the nation in a progressive force, better suited to face the imperialist threats of the late Cold War era. Thus, the history of the communist party and the national history had to be rewritten as one: “there cannot be two histories, a history of the people and a history of the Party. Our people have a single history, and the activity of the Romanian Communist Party, along with other parties in different periods, constitutes an inseparable part of the history of the homeland” (N. Ceauşescu, cited in Verdery 1991: 118–119). The national-communist rhetoric after 1989 not only survived but flourished and was integrated into the contemporary nationalist discourse due to several elements. Firstly, the fact that it managed to successfully mix older nationalist
Dynamics of Nationalism in Romania and Populist Right 181 tropes with a Third-Worldist inspired independentism and, similar to Maoism, transmuted the class conflict into a national fight (by equating class with nation) against imperialism and neocolonialism that were perceived as threatening the very existence of both nation and the state. This approach to nationalism is nowadays surprisingly effective, proving itself to be very able to adapt itself to profoundly different economic, political, and social realities, in fact, addressing similar systemic issues regarding peripherality, imperialism, underdevelopment, and neocolonialism. Moreover, an issue that should perhaps receive more scholarly attention is that national communism proved to be very compatible with surprisingly different narratives, such as the US-based anti-globalist conspiracist “theories”, as a consequence of the development of the Information Communication Technologies (ICT’s) in the 2000s. National communism should be investigated as a constitutive dimension of today’s global conspiracist paranoia in the postsocialist periphery (see Astapova, Colăcel, Pintilescu, and Scheibner 2020). Secondly, after 1989 many of the Old Regime’s intellectuals remained very active, some of them even pursuing successful political careers, as in the case of a former poet turned journalist and politician Corneliu Vadim Tudor, the founder of the far-right populist Greater Romania Party in the 1990s, or of another poet, Adrian Păunescu, who joined the national-communist Socialist Party of Work in the ’90s but also managed to stay in the public eye as a writer and organizer of the Flacăra Cenacle (a nationalistic cultural event which started during the communist regime and was reignited by Păunescu after 1989), after his death having a statue erected in his memory in one of the central parks of Bucharest, the Icoanei Park. But not only the visible intellectuals were relevant. In my opinion, it’s the invisible work of historians, sociologists, and political analysts that kept national communism going. People like Ioan Scurtu, Ioan Aurel Pop, Ilie Bădescu and many, many others are a constitutive part of the Romanian intellectual life as members of the Romanian Academy of Sciences and their influence is still widespread –as professors and scholars or even politicians, they are shaping the Romanian discourse on identity, history, and nationhood, perpetuating the ideological legacy of the national communist narrative, even if they nowadays are only assuming a “nationalist” stance. That is, in my opinion, hard evidence of the manner in which the national-communist tropes were integrated as an essential part of the contemporary nationalist discourse. Thirdly, many of the national-communist themes have remained into the curricula to this day, thus being part of the reproduction of the national-identitary discourse. Children in school are learning many of the proto-chronist, thracomaniac, and xenophobic themes of the national communist ideology, and several scholarly investigations strongly pointing to this (Bujorean 2015; see also Szakács 2018, 2014). To this, one should add the cultural elements of the “banal national communism”, to paraphrase Michael Billig (Billig 1995), or the normalization of national communism as it was translated into cultural terms. Perhaps the best illustration of this is the enormous sculpture of the Dacian king Decebalus, commissioned by former fascist turned national-communist supporter and rabid proto-chronist and thracomaniac millionaire Iosif Constantin Drăgan. It is the biggest rock sculpture
182 Valentin Quintus Nicolescu in Europe and second in the world after Mount Rushmore, finished in 2004, after 10 years of work by sculptor Florin Cotarcea and his team of 12 alpinists and sculptors. In addition to all of the above, there is a vibrant online proto-chronist and thracomaniac community that nowadays is fuelling the Romanian far-right movement embodied by the Alliance for the Unity of Romanians Party (AUR). The rise of contemporary Romanian populist nationalism
Balkanism, as one of the many expressions of symbolic peripherality of the South- Eastern Europe, offers a startlingly negative imagery which produces, in the mind of the Westerner, a contrasting picture of romanticized wilderness, exotic cultures, and murky politics (see Hammond 2007; Dix 2015). One of the particularities often identified with the societies in the region is their corrupted governments and politics. Romania falls well within this category, which unfortunately is not imaginary. Corruption has been a systemic feature of Romanian life since the inception of the modern nation-state in the second half of the nineteenth century and this history engendered what Eric Uslaner calls a “Culture of corruption”, generated by a vicious circle of inequality, low out-group trust, and high corruption (Uslaner 2008: 6). Thus, corruption in Romania is an endemic phenomenon, and the usual essentialist approach to it –inspired by liberal modernization theory stating that corruption is the product of underdeveloped market economy and democratic institutions and practices –is in my opinion blind to the way in which corruption is a constitutive part of Romanian social reality as a social and symbolic practice (Zerilli, in Haller and Shore 2005: 83–84), and as one of the main mechanisms fuelling Romania’s strong informal economy and politics (see Klima 2020; Ceyhun 2021; Kim 2005). After the 2007 European integration, Romania added to its long list of corruption issues those regarding the EU funding, involving dubious arrangements concerning high-level officials, fraud or fund misuse, or fictional EU-funded projects meant to serve the clientele system (Bratu 2018: 2–3; see also Hoaxhaj 2020). As such, the issue of corruption as an embedded trait of Romanian realities must be understood as a relevant variable for all interested in the study of Romania’s social, economic, and political life. On the other hand, when discussing corruption from a political and ideological standpoint, a different picture emerges. Corruption is, at least in the Romanian setting, more often than not instrumentalized for political gain and in order to craft a specific ideological identity. In other words, the goal is to create an identitary narrative, and not to really address or solve the problem. Moreover, apparently in the Romanian case, the anticorruption fight itself can be turned into an act of corruption (Mendelski 2020). The anticorruption discourse in Romania is, when approached from a postcolonial standpoint, a visible project of self-colonization in terms of modernization. In the Romanian political vocabulary, the expression “I want a country like Outside” (“vreau o țară ca afară”, where Outside is colloquially understood since the communist era as representing the West, the advanced, civilized world) illustrates the aspiration to modernization as Westernization. Cristian Ghinea, the former Minister of Investment and European Projects and member of the neoconservative populist Save Romania Union party,
Dynamics of Nationalism in Romania and Populist Right 183 even formally adopted the expression by founding a watch-dog NGO called “O țară ca afară” (A country like Outside), dedicated to monitoring the management of EU funds in Romania and, of course, to the anticorruption fight. Romanian national populists have immersed themselves since the 1990s in the framing of the anticorruption narrative, trying to capitalize on the frustration of a populace confronted with harsh economic decisions, poverty, and an uncertain future. Ion Iliescu was perhaps the first to do so in the early 1990s, when he decided to mobilize the society by using the national communist rhetoric against corrupt foreign capital, capitalists, and Romanians from the anti-communist diaspora who decided to return home and involve themselves in politics. Iliescu coined what in Leninist terms could be called the slogan of the moment: “we are not selling our country!” and, directly aimed at the abovementioned newly repatriates: “you did not eat soy salami!”. The so-called “soy salami” was, during the last decade of the Ceauşescu regime, a symbol of the generalized poor living conditions and of the scarcity of resources characteristic of that particular period. Therefore, the slogan emphasized the profound differences in life experiences between those living under the communist regime and those coming from the Western capitalist world, thus delegitimizing their claims that they had any viable solutions for the transitional period: they simply could not understand Romania anymore, and their solutions would either be unfit for the post-89 social and economic conditions of Romania or, on the other hand, would just simply reflect a greedy, corrupt capitalistic individual agenda aimed at “getting their hands on our country”. This founding moment could arguably be seen as originating the specific opposition/conflict between the so- called “political class” and the “people” that is still structuring the Romanian populist ideological imaginary today. The discourse targeting the political elites as corrupted and anti-national has two distinct dimensions –one strictly confined to Romanian internal affairs, while the other is the expression of the postcolonial and neocolonialist transnational realities shaping the whole region. The first one originates in the transitional period after the fall of communism, referring to the way in which the new political class behaved while holding public offices, and also to the way in which informality framed the development of local economies and their ties to the political sphere. The informality and the venality of this political order centred on what the press called “local barons” (see Nicolescu 2013), triggered the view according to which Romanian politicians are not interested in serving the public in an honest manner, but to enrich themselves through illegal, shady practices while holding public office. This had a wider impact on Romanian political life, by heavily contributing to the way in which the Left is seen in the country. Due to the fact that, during the ’90s and in the 2000s, the biggest party on the Romanian political scene was the Social Democratic Party (PSD), the abovementioned informal order was directly associated with the social democrats and, by extension, with the very idea of Left-wing politics. Subsequently, the cleavage “communist/anti-communist” appeared: the “communists” are represented in this view by the Social Democrats (also wrongly considered to be heirs to the defunct Romanian Communist Party of Nicolae Ceaușescu), while the anti-communists are literally all other significant
184 Valentin Quintus Nicolescu political organizations. The Social Democrats are perceived as defending their privileges and power positions, while the other parties are fighting against them, for the betterment of Romanian society (see Popescu and Vesalon 2022). This ideological positioning led in 2014 to the chants of “down with communism!” on the streets of Romania and abroad against Victor Ponta, leader of the Social Democrats and presidential candidate at the time. The second dimension, as stated above, links neocolonial practices with corruption, generating a different view on the national elites, which are perceived as agents of foreign interests aimed at controlling –directly or indirectly –the Romanian economy and implicitly the entire country. What Ion Iliescu started in the early ’90s re-emerged after the 2008 crisis as one of the main engines driving the national populist ideology in Romania. Perhaps the best example is offered by the 2012 elections and the rise of the short-lived People’s Party created around then-media mogul Dan Diaconescu. His approach was a bit more different, in that he added some elements which he took from the communist past, particularly the view that “the country” and the state are not the same thing, they do not overlap: “the country” is the people, and it belongs to them (in terms of collective property even), while the state appears to be in the hands of the corrupted few that are in position of power and rule. In this logic, of course, the country can be alienated by the state, in the name of formally higher national interests. Thus, the old national communist identification between class and nation readapted itself to address this issue by creating a clear dichotomy between the nation and the corrupted politicians in the hands of foreign interests. As a result, Romanian nationalism starts to slowly return to its far-right interwar roots, becoming more and more anti-Western and more anti-globalist, after two decades of pro-Western optimism and pro-capitalism. Apart from the conflict opposing the nation and the corrupted political class, there is another important dimension structuring the current dynamics of nation and nationalism in Romania, derived from the combined issue of the Western symbolic centre and European neocolonial politics in the East. As discussed in the economic periphery section of this chapter, especially after Romania’s EU accession in 2007, structural inequalities, economic underdevelopment, and endemic poverty pressed many Romanians to move to the Western parts of the Union in search of a better life and opportunities, transforming Romania in the largest country of emigration in the EU (Careja 2013: 76). There they (just as many other Eastern Europeans did) encountered for the first time en masse the way the West perceived them, the Western imagined representation of themselves and, at the same time, contributed to the ongoing Western re-imagining of the Eastern Europe (see Light and Young 2009). Western xenophobia towards Romanians who are often portrayed as a threat to the internal order of the receiving countries, combined with a historically postcolonial inferiority complex on the Romanian side, and with economic exploitation and social and cultural discrimination triggered a strong nationalist reaction within the Romanian community, stressing on identitarian tropes, anti-Western attitudes and anti-Europeanism fomenting the national populist movement at home
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Part IV
Coming to Terms with the Nation(s) Again
10 Leadership Rent and Patronage in the EU Global Strategy Evolution Oxana Karnaukhova
Introduction In the international arena, the European Union is shaping its perception of global leadership and presents itself as a generous actor, which delivers not just material benefits but also public goods (ideas of equality, economic and social progress, rule of law, democracy, human rights, etc.) to the emerging world with the specific instruments of selective economic assistance and trade. Since the 1990s, the enhancement of concepts, such as uneven development that should be overcome through answering the predefined conditions had a significant impact on the anchoring of financial aid to the fulfilment of specific political and economic criteria. Thus, the asserted “normative power of Europe” has become a commonly used phrase. It should be stressed, however, that numerous studies of the avenues through which the EU establishes its rules and regulations vis-à-vis third countries underestimate the extent of the European Union’s own involvement in relations with these countries. In particular, Dimier (2021) notes the traces of colonialism in the Directorate General activities in the context of the internal EC debates in the 1970s. Thus, this perspective is clearly visible in EU relations in Africa as a direct effect of decolonization policies, where the relationship was originally based on the principles of clientage–patronage (Delputte and Orbie 2020). On the other perspective, the European Neighbourhood Policy presented in 2003 with further regional diversification for the Mediterranean (2008) and Eastern Neighbourhood (2009) has introduced the idea of bridging the diverse countries under the benevolent universalism of the European principles of public goods. The neighbourhood concept was designed to emphasize the close proximity of the regions to Europe and justify the need for conjugacy, following the priorities of selectivity, stability, and resilience (Jervis 1982; Hettne 2008). The unrest in the Eastern direction puts the concept of security as the most relevant for the region but also questions the ability of the EU to be the leader. Asia, which represents “neighbourhood-of-neighbourhood” in terms of the EU Global Strategy, is of interest in this regard. The policy establishing the EU’s geopolitical leadership in Asia, and more specifically in Central Asia, taking shape from 2003 until 2018 (2021) as the “Connectivity Strategy”, has, in essence, acknowledged the very indirect link between the EU and the countries of the DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-15
192 Oxana Karnaukhova region. Central Asia (CA) serves as the referent object of the global actors’ scrutiny in Asia. The chapter aims at determining the approach of the EU as the supranational actor over Central Asia and addressing the role and efficiency of such an approach in the regional self-identification and the security narratives. The chapter highlights the European strategy in Asia, namely, security when implementing the “connectivity vision” and “principled pragmatism” approach. The chapter briefly observes the scholarly literature which has problematized the mainstream regionalism approach to security narratives and applies postcolonial lenses for analysis of the dominant strategy towards Asia. Although the compilation of Postcolonial Studies and Critical Security is not a brand-new theoretical approach to understanding the foreign policies of global actors (Barkawi and Laffey 2006; Hönke and Müller 2012; Shani 2017), the current research stretches the repertoire of clientelism between security practice of the global actor and postcolonial narratives of its leadership. It goes on to explain the development of the EU’s Global Strategy as a consistent embodiment of the constellation of European postcolonial leadership. Drawing on the postcolonial approach, the analysis points out that security derives from the narratives about progressive and sustainable coexistence and also from the value-based choices offered by the EU. The chapter concludes by highlighting the instruments applied to the extended neighbourhood. The EU employs the leadership rent from the political economy perspective. This understanding penetrates the contribution of the official security narrative of the global actor to the construction and reconstruction of the postcolonial situation in Central Asia by means of utilizing European values of identification, mutual dependency profiling, and development management. Leadership, clientelism, and security: the postcolonial agenda The resurgence of interest in the postcolonial approach in the early 21st century is linked to a broad debate about the differences between Western and non-Western agendas in the analysis of international relations. The drift from the Western hegemony nested in the persuasive linear postwar progress and the USA’s ever- growing domination to the regionalism of “rising powers” reflects dissatisfaction with the offered explanatory models and the desire to shift the focus in analyzing the exclusive role of the West in knowledge production. The distinction of the postcolonial approach is rejecting the logic of unconditional and unavoidable dictatorship of the metropolitan norms for former colonies, and the specific treatment of hegemonic-subordinate interactions. This relationship is not necessarily linked to the real colonial heritage, but to the mutual perception of the actors involved and their real or imaginary interdependence. Postcolonial theory is concerned with exploring the conditions of this engagement and highlighting the repertoire of discursive and enacted tools that maintain the conditions for the reproduction of global wealth, good governance, and the continued self-reproduction of systems of exploitation, inequality, and silencing of difference. These instruments are deemed to maintain the Westernized vision of leadership.
Leadership Rent and Patronage in the EUGS Evolution 193 The concept of geopolitical leadership based on patronage relationships in conditions of global uncertainty appeared in the wake of decolonization as compatible with the idea of development. Development was contrasted with colonialism as an unconditional “good” against an obvious “evil” and addressing the impact of colonialism questioned the dominance of European powers, although global development was thought to have inherited its organization and most of its concepts from its ideal European predecessor. Thus, research, extending the descriptions of traditional societies, began in the 1970s and highlighted the specific position of patron–client relations in the logic of social exchange and reciprocity. This logic combines the desire for control over resources with the presence/absence of trust. The literature (Sartori 1970; Collier and Mahon 1993) defines this logic as clientelism. The term “patronage” is sometimes used as a closely related term for the direction of the logic, that is, the patron–client relationship. Among the attributes of clientelism are hierarchy, selectivity in the provision of benefits or patron brokering (in which case institutional actors and personalities act as patrons or as brokers controlling the distribution of benefits), and personalization of communication. Patron–client relations are characterized by the simultaneous exchange of different kinds of resources and services: materially instrumental (e.g. economic and political) and socially communicative (e.g. promises of allegiance). The unequal exchange determines the entry into a system of obligations, which forces agents to value clientelism both as an instrumental means to achieve a settlement goal and for its own sake. Patron–client relationships are based on informal, albeit closely related, arrangements. Asymmetrical power and inequality are combined with promises of solidarity and security. What draws the postcolonial approach to security studies is appealing to power elitist legitimation and asymmetrical distribution, as well as forming explanatory rationalities and narratives of civilizing. The repertoire of power impact comprises primarily economic and political instruments preferred by postcolonial leading actors. “Postcolonial moment” thus indicates situations of setting the playing field that is based on We-Other dichotomies and recourse to discourses of development. Settled asymmetrical relationships express the privilege of dominant narratives of what security regions are and how far neighbouring periphery can be described and improved. The economic dominance of certain countries and regions becomes crucial because of creating the prerequisites for redistributive gains or competitive advantages (Buklemishev and Danilov 2015). These advantages can be called “leadership rents”. Drifting from geopolitics to political economy, the concept of leadership rent is borrowed from the political economy literature (Lake 1993; Lake and Morgan 1997; Kai and Skaperdas 2005) and, similar to what has been produced by the grand narrative of the world-systemic approach (Sanderson and Wallerstein, 1995) describes how the group of highly developed states predetermines the nature and pace of the world economic development and acts as a natural “centre of gravitation” to emerging economies. These centres of gravitation often use patronage as a primary political instrument of conceiving personalized relations between the
194 Oxana Karnaukhova dominant and the dependent; it is usually attributed to cultural grounds. The seminal work of R. Kaufman helps to stretch the concept of patronage from electoral behaviour to a strategy for acquiring, maintaining, and exacerbating political power from patrons (Kaufman 1974). Patronage–clientage is a special form of unequal exchange of two entities, which is distinguishable by inequality of power and status (perceived or real); particularistic and private relationships, regulated by the principle of reciprocity. The concept includes strategies for protecting and promoting their interests from clients, and their deployment is conditioned by the sets of incentives and disincentives provided to them (Piattoni 2001). Since patronage is supposed to be imprinted in polity behaviour and affects the way how these polities represent their interests, leaders-patrons utilize this instrument by tying up their clients with the strong historical and cultural ties resilient to radical political transformations. As the global development demonstrates, on the one hand, the ways how relations (security as well) between global geopolitical actors were constituted and represented are dependent on strategies and instruments applied and, on the other hand, recognizing the equal importance of Western and non- Western, non-European actors (Makarychev 2008; Bossuyt 2019; Laruelle 2021). For a long time, European considerations of uneven development in the insecure environment have refused to acknowledge its imperial character and painful selectivity. Once security studies (Buzan and Wæver 2003; Booth 2005; Buzan and Hansen 2009) have recognized the Eurocentric vision as their origin, they gave a space for the debates about the role and functions of non-Western societies in the arena of global competition among leading actors (Bilgin 2010). Although security is rationalized by the West-centred mainstream policies, the ultimate result of such policy is knowledge of security produced not only in the “vested” interests but also in concerns of peripheral regions. The establishment of the binary nature of IR, while suggesting the emergence of alternative versions of the world order, did not abolish Western hegemony, as non-Western approaches remain in a subordinate and catching-up position. Postcolonial studies stance on transnational dimensions of the global geopolitics negotiates the Western leadership exclusivity and security guarantees provision (Acharya 1997; Peimani 1998; Tickner 2003; Acharya and Johnston 2007; Fawn 2009; Hönke and Müller 2012; Bonacker 2018; Laruelle 2021). A massive critical scholarship challenges the central position attached to Europe in the international order since the Napoleonic wars; it questions the legal and moral universality of the European governing principles; finally, it puts into doubt the privilege of the West to constitute the role of risk, uncertainty, and security in the current world-making, and, specifically, instrumentality of such knowledge in strategic decision-making. Thus, so-called West-East conflicts reproduce “the Eurocentric assumption that agency –real, historically significant agency –only resides in the great powers” (Barkawi and Laffey 2006: 337). Further, the result of overwhelming security is the pragmatic focus on all- encompassing resilience-based policies (Korosteleva 2019). At the same time, models of representation, decision-making, and concrete measures in treating relations with the peripheral vis-a-vis of global actors serve to “naturalise” and
Leadership Rent and Patronage in the EUGS Evolution 195 “pragmatise” the patron–client approach; and this logic is rather Eurocentric and postcolonial than universal (Bull and Watson 1984; Buzan and Little 2000; Seth 2011; Neuman 2019). The “We-They” dichotomy influences strategic decision- making in a superior form. In the case of Asia, security becomes the most comfortable umbrella topic for the EU Global Strategy which refers to public goods, markets’ common ground, and “the specific way of life” (Ahrens and Hoen 2019; Keijzer and Bossuyt 2020). As scholarly studies demonstrate, the influential integration project of the EU is positioned as the best explanatory model serving as the patronage instrument, and its rationalized civilizing mechanisms of leadership rent are exploited for transposing to the periphery; the capacity for independent decision-making and the sole responsibility of Asia, and specifically Central Asia, for regional security is often put under question. PARIS School and anthropology of the European security The chapter offers a meeting point for theories and methods particularly useful for the analysis and overcomes blind spots within the current interdisciplinary research. It combines implications of the PARIS School of Security Studies (Political Anthropological Research for International Sociology) with the postcolonial approach that successfully deals with the human dimension of contemporary (in)security conceptualization. Following the PARIS School, the chapter seeks to explain the politics through the lenses of the established security character of public problems; to derive the social commitments from the collective acceptance that a phenomenon is a threat; to create the possibility of a particular policy in practice. Securitization is a pragmatic act that is a sustained argumentative practice aimed at convincing a target audience to accept, based on what it knows about the world, the claim that specific development is threatening enough to deserve an immediate policy to curb it. Security, and in particular internal security, must be understood as a process of securitization/desecuritization of the borders, of the identities, and the conception of orders (Bigo 2000, 2010). Regarding Asia, in general, and Central Asia, at least, the dilemma of sovereignty-security seems no longer to exist. Security became global programmatic rationality and practice. In other words, the result of overwhelming security is the pragmatic focus on all-encompassing resilience-based policies (Korosteleva 2019). At the same time, models of representation, decision-making, and concrete measures in treating relations with the peripheral vis-a-vis of global actors serve to “naturalise” and “pragmatise” the patron–client approach; and this logic is rather Eurocentric and postcolonial than universal (Bull and Watson 1984; Buzan and Little 2000; Seth 2011; Neuman 2019; Fawn 2020). The “We-They” dichotomy influences strategic decision-making in a superior form, thus sounds counterproductive for the emancipation of those countries involved. In the case of the Central Asian (CA) region, security becomes the most comfortable umbrella topic for the EU with reference to public goods, markets’ common ground, and “the specific way of life” (Ahrens and Hoen 2019; Keijzer and Bossuyt 2020). The integration
196 Oxana Karnaukhova project, influential at the continental level and beyond, represents itself as the best credible model and serves as the nursery; its rationalized civilizing mechanism is exploited for transposing to the periphery. The capacity for independent decision- making and the CA’s sole responsibility for regional security is often put under question (de Haas 2016). The chapter draws on the method of the Historical Discourse Approach (HDA) of the Critical Discourse Studies (Wodak 1999, 2001) with the assumption that meaning-making is reflective and constructive of social reality. It deals with the so- called historical dimension of the discourse and concerns the wide use of diverse information resources geared at developing specific relationships or repertoire. This comprehensive approach appeals to travel from the semantic analysis of text, via intertextuality and relationships between texts and articulations, to political, historical, and cultural contexts. Concerning security, and more specifically, security practices, the analysis of the official discourse is extremely important, not only because discursive practices shape global public opinion towards subjects and objects of securitization but also because securitization tends to be institutionally supported as a constitutive of the postcolonial background in current competitive integration and solidarity programs of the EU and other global actors beyond, such as Eurasian Economic Union. The chapter undertook an initial survey with NVivo software to identify the most prevalent “nodes” of the postcolonial discourse of the EU in Central Asia. Data were extracted from a set of documents manifesting relations to Asia and Central Asia specifically, such as the instruments legitimizing the EU Global Strategy (e.g. EU Global Strategy on Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, EU Global Strategy, EU Strategy on Central Asia, and annual expert reports). Then, manual coding was adopted to specify the place and the role of Asia and Central Asia, in particular, in the European Security strategies. While examining the corpus of documents, the chapter identifies the means, through which the legitimating strategy and security narratives manifest themselves and convey step-by-step through expert communities. The decision-making process of the global actor embodies a demand for positive attributes of the security management and demonstrates negative attributes of insecurity, thus requiring an immediate response from the stakeholders justifiable for the common good and future development. Finally, to clarify the “post-colonial moment” of implementation of the articulated strategy and to confirm the EU’s “principled pragmatism” towards target states, ODA (Official Development Assistance) data was used. Since 1969, the ODA has remained the “gold standard” and the main instrument for implementing aid policies to developing countries; being a legacy of decolonization, it implements a decision-making model through a donor–recipient relationship. As the EU is one of the key donors to this system, the ODA reflects the key strategic priorities of “leadership rents” in regions of geopolitical interest. Central Asia in the orbit of the EU Global Strategy When Baghat Korany (1986) observed the security studies’ state of the art, he affirmed that most analytics tended to frame non-Western actors within two
Leadership Rent and Patronage in the EUGS Evolution 197 available slots –juniors in the great power game or “trouble-makers”. Membership of Central Asia in the first camp originates from its Soviet past and the Eurasian present. Until 1991 five states of Central Asia –Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, and Tajikistan –were an integral part of the Soviet Union. The 1991 dissolution of the USSR and the creation of the Commonwealth of Independent States kept the power of the Soviet past as a longstanding legacy of ties with Russia. Russian language as the lingua franca, intensive labour migration flows, movements of goods and energy resources, as well as security guarantees, have made Russia the key economic and political partner in Central Asia. Other projects evolving the targeted region, although diverse in terms of resources and strategic goals, include the US’s New Silk Road Initiative (NSRI), India’s International North-South Transportation Corridor (INSTC), and Turkey’s Middle Corridor. In contrast, the European Union is a relatively new player in the region, despite its ambitious self-declaration in the “Towards a European Union Strategy for Relations with the Independent States of Central Asia” of 1995. It had limited contacts with the CA states and a few interests in close interactions, primarily in the energy sector and security (European Commission 1995). The hierarchical priority list of the EU for the region included the promotion of democracy and political reforms, followed by the reduction of conflict scopes and then the promotion of economic reforms. The contradiction between the need for own economic security and the desire to formalize the EU’s geopolitical leadership in Central Asia manifested itself in the mechanisms proposed for implementation and the limited repertoire of instruments that bore the traces of normative hegemony and the logic of the European “civilising mission” for developing societies. The CA states have been also ranked according to the EU’s sectoral priorities in the region (European Commission 2017). The Partnership and Cooperation Agreement (PCA), implemented on principles of conditionality, was envisaged as one of the instruments to formalize the leadership rent. The announced ongoing political dialogue should “take the form of exploratory discussions in which the EU could explain the criteria it would expect to be met by PCA partners” (European Commission 1995: 3). Further engagement was seen as connected with “hardware” security concerning indirectly troubling neighbours (Afghanistan as a challenge) and different development projects for funding. Since the independence of CA states, the EU has gradually expanded its involvement in the region through the Official Development Assistance (ODA). Following the OECD dataset, the ODA has been distributed unevenly across the CA states. The relations of clientage are lined up in accordance with the interest hierarchy. The difference reflects the selectivity of targets and specific donor aspirations. One of the largest recipients of the EU institutions’ ODA appears to be Kyrgyzstan with about US $593 million of grants and loans by 2018 mainly aimed at the logistic projects. Tajikistan allocated $622 million for education, public health, and rural development, followed by Uzbekistan –$263 million. Kazakhstan has gained $300 million for development assistance. Finally, the last recipient of the EU ODA becomes Turkmenistan with around $104 million of assistance (Source: OECD, Aid (ODA) disbursements to countries and regions). So the EU has become one of
198 Oxana Karnaukhova the major donors to the region with competitors of Russia, the USA, and China. For comparison, Russia allocated for the Kyrgyz Republic about $1,042 billion, naturally increasing its investments after 2015 via the Russian-Kyrgyz Development Fund, while Tajikistan was the main assistance object primarily for the USAID. Initially, Central Asia took a low position in the EU external policy agenda because of its location far from directly neighbouring regions, but gradually in addition to developing a common strategic approach towards Asia and the East as a whole, the growing number of security challenges in Asia had direct implications for the EU; thus, it was the matter of growing concerns about enhancing connectivity with the “neigbourhood –of-neighbourhood”. In contrast to the declared strategy since 1995, the EU was far from the target of the PCA layout. Formally, the first iteration of the PCAs has been prepared by the EU soon after the USSR dissolution, but few former Soviet republics have successfully concluded this step. The next stage came when the Enhanced PCAs have been proposed to all partners potentially interested. The enhanced PCA with Kazakhstan has been negotiated since 2016; with Kyrgyzstan, the document concluded in 2019; negotiations with Uzbekistan and Tajikistan are still on track. The PCA with Turkmenistan has been negotiated since the 1990s. Looking at the primary comprehensive approach deteriorated in the EU Security Strategy 2003, it was believed to integrate all dimensions of the EU’s external action under the umbrella agenda of “effective multilateralism” or global governance (Biscop 2005). This agenda by intelligent design can be transported to the vital public goods to which every individual on earth is to be entitled; promoting universal access to European values of democracy, human rights, and equality among these global public goods is considered the means of the distinctive European approach emphasizing long-term stabilization and conflict prevention. On that basis, the Strategy-2007 was an agenda for global and comprehensive positive power promotion, whose effectiveness was based on “the political goes first” idea: a state willing to apply and be qualified for economic assistance has to answer to strict predicaments of the Europe-oriented political conditions. Thus, the EU used the “one size for all” principle. The relations of the EU and Asia, Central Asia as well, were developing within the framework of the Brussels value-driven political agenda that was ironically labelled “the hesitant vicar” (Peyrouse, Boonstra, and Laruelle 2012). The implementation step-by-step of the EU Strategy for Central Asia adopted in 2007 (European Council 2007) has demonstrated less attention given to the CA than to the Eastern Neighbourhood, targeting the general goal of achieving peace, democracy, and prosperity in the region located on the far frontier of the European interests, articulating three common domains of stability/security, poverty reduction, and regional cooperation. In the strategy, security stood as the primary priority, inheriting this since 2001 and declaring high importance of the issue and defining crucial internal and external interests of the EU (European Parliament 2011; European Council 2012; European Parliament 2016). The CA was becoming a focal point in relations with the core Eastern competitors but not an equal partner. China’s growing regional and global influences, as well
Leadership Rent and Patronage in the EUGS Evolution 199 as the presence of the Russia-led Eurasian Union, and the related geopolitical shift have called into question the strength of the EU’s strategic relationship with individual Asian countries. Although Central Asia has not been of high priority for the European Union before the Eastern Neighbourhood Policy (ENP) launch, it was quickly incorporated into the orbit of interests as a “bridge” between the Eastern Neighbourhood countries and the ASEAN (European Council 2007). Meanwhile, security and economic development have gone hand- in- hand since 2007. Interestingly, the notion of “real” security (including energy, economic sustainability, etc.) went together with the “soft” political security and specific European values, such as democracy, human rights, and equality. The EU policy has remained torn between these different approaches, with a visible trend to prioritize energy and security over a values agenda (Peyrouse 2017). At the same time, the “peripheral approach” towards the CA as an adjective in decision-making, as well as the opposition of values and interests of the EU in the region, stretches the strategy to a vague condition and affects the effectiveness of implemented measures. This serves in the securitization process (Kilroy 2018), where the pragmatic connectivity and reliability of relations meet threats of political, and civilizational differences. The question on steps, measures, and mechanisms of support is answered through the allocation of specific funds to relevant sectoral reforms, first of all, legislation on deepening democratization. The European Parliament resolution (2010) and succeeding report of December 2011 highlight “the denial of basic rights and opportunities that result from the absence of democracy and the rule of law can lead to situations of insecurity”. Unlike the Eastern Neighbourhood countries, Central Asia did not regard the European Union as a desirable integration destination, seeing itself as an independent player in the region and being able to choose its allies from the list of the global players. The “one size fits all” principle does not work with the CA, nor does the clientage. Despite multiple instruments potentially available for regional development and sustainability, the EU serves as one of the main donors but is less visible within the region (Kluczewska and Dzhuraev 2020). The EU logistic projects like TRACECA look forgotten, while infrastructure is dominated by Chinese and USA investments, and “soft power” instruments were shared predominantly by Russia and Japan (OECD 2018). The focus of the EU on additional visibility of activities is contested with instruments suggested by China. Delegations of the EU as Representative’s Offices have been opened in CA states only by 2011 (the last one in Turkmenistan was opened in 2019) to highlight its activities. So the EU used a habitual strategy to gravitate towards a region, opposing the Chinese expansion. Still, the EU seems to be rather a monetary resource donor than an influential transregional policy maker. As it was mentioned in the Report on the EU–Central Asia partnership to engage the EU into the region but in fact to re-produce patron– client relations, the European Commission’s assistance budget to Central Asia has been promised to significantly increase by 2013 to a total of 750 million EUR, with the average annual allocation to the region under the development cooperation instrument increasing from 58 million EUR in 2007 to 139 million EUR in 2013 (European Council 2007).
200 Oxana Karnaukhova By the date of the new upcoming document “The European Union Global Strategy” (EUGS 2016), the global context has changed dramatically. The Ukrainian crisis and the Crimea events of 2014 have put the EU–Russia relations on ice, so the 2016 EU Global Strategy characterizes Russia as a “key strategic challenge” and does not refer to economic relations in any form (EUGS 2016). For the new EU Global Strategy, wider Eurasia is of particular interest because it is seen as a key region connecting the West and the East; and, since the mid-2000s, the EU has been influencing setting the agenda by the implementation of regional strategies aimed at the South Caucasus and Central Asia. Compared to the previous iteration of the EU Global Strategy, the new version looks more pragmatic (Tocci 2016), but the core idea of connectivity, which targeted Asia as an othering object of European actorness, remains the same through sustainable, comprehensive, and rule-based initiatives. Another concept mirrored in the EU itself is resilience. It exploits the image of the EU as the stronghold of stability, positivity, and nonabusiveness that compensate for relatively limited economic investment. In the light of contesting projects targeted at Central Asia, it is clear that conditionality as a principle and instrument of good governance is seen as inappropriate for the CA, and optimism about the credibility of the European project in strongly autocratic societies is not evident. In the target region, the EU competes with China in the direct economic investments and with Russia in the “ideological cushion”, such as strong shared historical memory and political ties. This status quo is enjoyable and completely satisfies regional elites. Also, the European crisis has contributed to China’s more active participation in creating a new geopolitical architecture, including the sphere of security, which is well documented in the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) as symbolically based on and substitutes for the path of the ancient Silk Road. The Initiative is substantiated as an investment in the land- based and maritime infrastructure connecting China with Europe through powerful and developing economies. The EU Global Strategy on Foreign Affairs and Security Policy (EUGS 2016) has replaced the European Security Strategy (2003) and reflects the new approach to security as a universal value and the EU “strategic culture”. In contrast to the normative framework of the previous strategy, the EUGS adheres to the so-called “principled pragmatism”, reformatting the promotion of democratic values, flexible partnerships, and multilateralism as the basis of the EU external action, taking into account the commitment to global stability. The EUGS seeks to increase the EU’s strategic autonomy from other international security actors, national and supranational, such as the USA or NATO. Although the EUGS as well as its previous version of 2003 concerns the global scale of issues, Asia (and Central Asia as the bridge between Europe and China) became one of the core directions in the centre of the Eurasian macroregion and the target for quasi-integration initiatives. The same idea is fair for the Eurasian Union and BRI. Networking, sustainability, and resilience became basic concepts for the EU Global Strategy to improve connectivity between Europe and Asia (EEAS 2018). Four pillars of the EU standards lie as a background of the strategy –the European market as the basis of sustainable connectivity, cross-border connectivity regime,
Leadership Rent and Patronage in the EUGS Evolution 201 partnerships, and a financial framework for the investment climate. However, since the EU security mechanisms are too limited and dispersed because of multiplicity, there is no European “grand narrative” on Asian security, and CA security in particular, anyhow effective and competitive with those of Russia or China. The new EU Strategy on Central Asia, adopted on 17 June 2019, proposes an enhanced partnership in economic development (“prosperity”), comprehensive security (“resilience”), and strengthening cooperation with and within Central Asia (EEAS 2019). The strategy confirms the EU has already allocated €1.1 billion to develop cooperation with Central Asia for 2014–2020, including over €454 million for regional programs that promote cooperation in the areas of sustainable development and regional security. The Soviet past is seen as one of the challenges impeding connectivity in the region with the specific practices of social networking, shadow entrepreneurship behaviour, and autocratic power; that should be overcome. As it is demonstrated in the preamble of the EU–Kazakhstan Enhanced Partnership Agreement ratified and coming into force on 1 March 2020, the EU plans to extend policy effectiveness and regional positive-sum games by cooperating with the government and nongovernment actors. This cooperation is aimed among others to promote political reforms towards transparency, democracy, and human rights respect. It is important to notice that all collaborative projects need to fulfil the “euro standard” of connectivity (Saari 2019), which is competing with those of Russia and China, the EAEU, and the BRI, respectively. Further connectivity promotes the creation of a comfortable buffer zone to reach China and South Asia and a transit corridor, which connects directly to Caucasus and Asia. The instrument chosen for implementing and promoting the strategy is raising direct investment that forms gravity flows for CA states and keeps and cherishes donor–client relations in the form of the leadership rent. Following the rationalized strategy, the EU goes beyond governments and looks at the involvement of civil societies, demonstrating its “blindness” towards the authoritative presence of most of their vis-a-vie, as “as the experts on the ground, they often lead the way on sustainable development (OECD 2019, Von der Leyen 2019). The complexity of this approach comprises the misunderstanding that all CA elites are interested in maintaining a system of patrimonial rule and clientelism. Finally, Central Asia is to be considered as the arena of the internally competitive projects of the regional leadership, distributed between Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, respectively. Specifically, the concerns of Uzbekistan about the state sovereignty, leading subject position in the region, and a “secure belt of friendly neighbours” (Development Strategy 2017) demonstrate the complexity of intraregional political flows and affect the interpretation of the EU partnership crux. The format C5+1 (five CA states as a collective supranational entity plus one external partner chosen on the basis of mutual economic benefits) reflects the postcolonial moment in securitizing relations with former metropolises. The suggested mechanism of the “economy goes first” cooperation is designed to avoid the excessive and undesirable perception of Central Asia as a peripheral (or buffer) zone, the establishment of asymmetries of power inherent in patron–client relations and political domination. Thus, it would be difficult to pursue the pragmatic approach strictly in
202 Oxana Karnaukhova line with the Global Strategy-2016 without incorporating Central Asia as an equal partner into the list of highest geopolitical priorities of the EU. Conclusion The world has entered a period of power reordering. Critical to this approach is to understand and accept the role of emerging powers from the former global peripheries. Central Asia is among the peripheries reconsidered from less important to highly prioritized “neighbourhood-of-neighbourhood” position. This “security” region is filtering in between two Eastern powers, Russia and China, and one Western –European. Its central location in Eurasia and complex colonial history have made it an important object of geopolitical security strategies and collision of economic interests. All global actors recognize the place and the role of Central Asia in the general structure of regional development. Security takes the leading position among concepts that will rule the global world order and shared concerns within the neighbourhood in the nearest future. The role of “hard” and “soft” security has been dramatically increased with the external-internal diffusion towards its comprehensive condition. There is a high demand for alternatives that makes the EU a welcome partner, some experts assume (Juraev 2014; Boonstra and Panella 2018). This optimism comes from the gravitation effect of the European leadership strategy, but it is far from reality because of the values-driven component the EU expects from patriarchal autocratic regimes, even in Kyrgyzstan, human rights reforms, and rule of law. Following the logic of clientage and the chosen strategy of exchanging recognition of the European values’ superiority for economic benefits, Brussels is ready to offer more development aid and trade preferences if the target states declare international norms promoted by the EU into their legislation. Without a doubt, elites in Central Asia are well aware of their own geopolitical appeal and are ready to benefit economically from a European leadership strategy. Also, to some extent, the EU Global Strategy is formally and informally believed to put security in its comprehensive form on the front line. Proclaiming the new pragmatism approach, the global actor still pursues postcolonial relations, where Central Asia is destined to play a subordinate role as a client. At the same time, Central Asia observes diverse instruments provided by the leaders of the region. The preferable approach of the EU originates from understanding economic leadership as the strategic actorness, so the leadership rent answers the ideal situation of gravitation around the European interests. There are also some specific security narratives. The EU considers security in a broad sense linking it with economic sustainability, but, more importantly, with political development and the European set of values. The EU strategy has demonstrated limited success in the CA arena due to a discrepancy between the proclaimed civilizing mission and the economic instruments suggested to implement it, namely, the attempt to achieve political goals through economic means. For the EU, this role seems a civilizational burden but imperative to carry, thus such conditionality and a strong commitment to certain political values look least attractive for
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11 Conservative Use of Postcolonial Rhetoric The Polish and Czech Cases Ondřej Slačálek1
Introduction For more than 20 years, we have witnessed a debate in Central and Eastern Europe about the transferability of the concepts of postcolonial theory to the postcommunist condition (Moore 2001; Spivak et al. 2006; Chari and Verdery 2009; Hladík 2011; Uffelmann 2020). This debate is sometimes reminiscent of a scholastic exercise, with two interesting paradoxes. First of all, the impulses for the use of the word postcolonialism come mostly from Western academia. Thus, it is sometimes hard not to understand it as a continuation of colonialism by other means. The other paradox has been described as “perverse decolonisation” (Sowa in Borozan 2020). Postcolonial theory, with its criticism of Western universalism and sensitivity towards local subjects and power relationships between global centres and local populations, was easily accessed to be used by conservative and xenophobic actors. Their use of postcolonial theory as a weapon of mass destruction against liberalism (and feminism, antiracism, and other emancipatory -isms) obscures the main direction of this xenophobic conservativism, which is to replace superficial and imperfect Western universalism with open Westernist particularism, and not with an emancipatory agenda. It also obscures the position of the former “second world” countries, which are not protesting against Eurocentric and white domination, but at the fact that they do not have a “fair” share of it, being “white, but not quite” and having only “partial privilege” (Kalmar 2022). The ease with which this jugglery works produces some doubts not only about this conservative use of postcolonial theory but also about the theory itself –what is it about it that creates this possibility for (mis)use? (Sowa 2014; Bill 2014). However, this problem is not limited to the use of postcolonial theory. The broader rhetoric of “coloniality” is often more common and important. This rhetoric does not make use of the sophisticated concepts of Fanon, Said, Spiwak, or Bhabha, but of a vague idea that the countries of the CEE were “colonised” and that a distant power rules over them. This rhetoric captures important elements of truth regarding the “coloniality of power” in the CEE semiperiphery of the EU, but at the same time, it has a complicated political logic: it underlines the conflict between “self-colonising emancipation” connected with globalist liberalism and “anti-colonial self-love” connected with conservative nationalism DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-16
208 Ondřej Slačálek (Gagyi 2016). Sometimes, the rhetoric of “colony” is used with strong potential by openly conservative forces: this was documented by Eszter Kováts in Hungary (Kováts 2021) and by Graff and Korolczuk (2021: 95–113) in the case of the global antigender movement. The second case is telling; according to Graff and Korolczuk, while both feminism and antifeminism in fact have their global and local dimension and infrastructures, the global antigender movement strategically frames any feminist initiatives as colonial usurpation, and resistance to it is always framed as localized. The strange dialectic of the spread of postcolonial and decolonial rhetoric to the framing of the CEE experience is almost infinite. Now, with the Ukrainian conflict and Eastern European revolt against “Westplaining”, we can see a new version of it: on the one hand, we may ironically interpret some Russian ideologists like Dugin as explicit critics of Eurocentrism (in good Eurasian tradition) and the voice of “genuine decolonisation” (Ukr-TAZ 2022), in spite of the fact that his views are largely cobbled together from mostly Western conservative authors and that, under the cover of local “authenticity” and an “Eurasian” alternative towards the West, Dugin is in fact proposing a programme of conservative Westernization (Tlostanova 2015: 50). On the other hand, the rhetoric of colonization and decolonization is used to characterize the situation of Ukraine (Dostlieva and Dostliev 2022), in spite of numerous differences, namely the relationship towards the West and racial dynamics. The function of this rhetoric is clear in this context: nationalism may be considered acceptable if it is framed as “anti-colonial”. Thus, what we see is that the use of various concepts of postcolonial theory and figures of anticolonial rhetoric in CEE is fairly broad, to say the least. At the same time, in many cases, we can trace a very conservative tendency in their use. In this chapter, I aim to characterize two cases of this conservative use of postcolonial political rhetoric. I have chosen the cases of Poland and Czechia in order to trace both the similarities and differences. The similarities are important: in both cases, references to “colony” and resistance against the “colonial” status of the given society was used as a weapon against globalist liberalism, with nationalist and conservative implications. But the differences are important, too: in the Polish case, conservative use of postcolonial theory and rhetoric led to support for the right- wing nationalist conservatives of the PiS, while in the Czech case, it contributed to the formulation of the left-wing position of “conservative socialism”. Also, in the Polish case, there was conceptual use of the authors and ideas of postcolonial theory, while in the Czech case, much more use was made of the political rhetoric of “colony”.2 On being the Polish Said Polish–US literary scientist Ewa Thompson published during the Cold War mostly on Gombrowicz and Russian formalism. In 2000 she published a book on Russian literature, Imperial Knowledge/Trubadurzy Imperium, from the point of view of the participation of Russian culture in Russian imperialism. She makes selective use of the impulses of Franz Fanon, Edward Said, Leela Gandhi, and others, namely
Conservative Use of Postcolonial Rhetoric 209 to rehabilitate nationalism and to distinguish it from its “imperialist pathology” (2000b: 21). Following Milan Kundera and Jaan Kross, Ewa Thompson underlines the key difference between Western and Russian colonialism. Western colonialism was based on the relationship between political rule and epistemic power, with superior scientific knowledge and culture used to legitimize domination: the “white man´s burden”. Russian colonialism in Eastern/Central Europe, on the other hand, could not aspire to civilizational superiority, and it colonized a region that was much closer to the Western core and its culture. Political domination was thus connected to civilizational inferiority –and here, Russian literature played an important role. In view of the relatively weak state of Russian philosophy and political thinking, Russian literature filled the vacuum as something that could legitimize the empire by means of important cultural achievements. Another difference is connected with the fact that Western colonialism is broadly reflected upon, analyzed and condemned, while Russian/Soviet colonialism was not recognized in its epistemic implications, and even now, according to Thompson, many of its colonial prejudices “legitimately” influence the Western debate on the fate of its victims (Ewa Thompson refers mostly to the debate on the inclusion of former Soviet satellites into NATO in the second half of the 1990s and on the positions of some notable scholars of IR and Slavic studies in this debate). Claudia Snochowska-Gonzales (2017: 18) has shown how Ewa Thompson describes Russia using tropes of essentialization and orientalization. From this point of view, Thompson paradoxically combines anticolonialism with a discourse of civilization characteristic of colonial rhetoric. However, Ewa Thompson’s more controversial (and more important) contribution to the public debate was not her application of orientalism and postcolonial theory to the Polish relationship to the West. She describes the West as a “surrogate hegemon”, coming after the fall of Soviet hegemony to fulfil the function of colonizing the minds of the Polish elites, unfortunately accustomed to be colonized. This applies mostly to Polish liberals, who according to Thompson completely failed to comprehend the Polish colonial situation. Instead of criticizing it, they co-produce it, both by their contempt for the rural and noneducated religious and nationalist part of the Polish population and by their view of the Western liberal audience as somehow automatically superior to their own society. Polish liberals, transferring a political conflict that they were unable to win at home (like lustrations), behaved as if the New York Times, Le Monde, or the European parliament were the third chamber of the Polish parliament. Ewa Thompson compared Polish liberals who denounced their own society in the international media to African American intellectuals who, according to her, almost never criticize the social pathologies of the African American poor for reasons of solidarity with “their people”. Ewa Thompson (2005) defines four characteristics of the colonial situation. The main one is poverty, which involves not only economic but also political problems, as it means above all an inability to build independent political institutions and independent culture. On the level of collective psychology, the complement to poverty is the feeling called African pessimism (Thompson proposes to adopt it as
210 Ondřej Slačálek post-Soviet pessimism): the idea that nothing can really change, that everything is doomed to fail in spite of the best intentions. The words of former Russian prime minister Viktor Chernomyrdin, “We wanted the best, but it turned out like always” can stand in this context as a typical example of post-Soviet pessimism. Another is culturalization: the perception of all social problems as mostly caused by local pathologies, traditions, and culture, while other causes or examples of similar pathologies from other parts of the world are underestimated. The fourth characteristic is necessary fantasies, which have a compensatory function, providing an illusion of a glorious past to compensate for the unhappy present. The intervention of Ewa Thompson in the Polish public debate came in conjunction with others. In fact, it was part of the rise of the Polish conservative intelligentsia. Polish philosopher Ryszard Legutko (2016) described global liberalism as a new totalitarian ideology, similar to communism. Sociologist Zdzislaw Krasnodębski in his book Demokracja peryferii [Peripheral Democracy] used Wallerstein’s concept of periphery (relatively loosely) to analyze Polish society. His criticism was predominantly focused on Polish liberals who had missed the chance to promote the legacy of Solidarność, which would, he argued, have meant a communitarian and participatory democracy with a strong moral ethos. Polish liberals could have developed this important and original contribution of world-historical relevance, but they chose instead to selectively imitate Western liberalism with its unrealistic and undeserving goals such as “perfect neutrality”. Krasnodębski criticizes this and the overly self-critical use of memory in democracies. He quotes with sympathy the well-known controversial speech by German writer Martin Walser about the accent on the holocaust memory being “negative nationalism” and a “monumentalisation of shame” (Krasnodębski 2003: 246). “If Poland has to become a periphery, it is obliged to stay a creative periphery”, Krasnodębski declared with reference to the successes of former creative peripheries like the USA or some unspecified former European Catholic peripheries which, he argued, had saved the West from the crisis caused by the Protestant core (Krasnodębski 2003: 227). What such a “creative periphery” needs is to put strong democracy above a strong economy and –unlike the liberals – not to sacrifice to it public morals, justice, and memory. Other authors, including Ewa Thompson, went on to develop a return to the “Sarmatian” ideology of the Polish aristocratic republic. Legutko and Krasnodębski became more important both for conservative thought in Poland and for conservative politics there (Legutko became an MP, minister of education and MEP, Krasnodębski is an MEP for PiS), but it was Ewa Thompson who influenced Polish conservative rhetoric, among other things teaching Kaczyński the word “postcolonial”. This was an important contribution, as the ideology of PiS and especially Kaczyński´s rhetoric focuses on “sovereignty” and “identity” as a legitimization of the steps that they take to limit democracy and the rule of law (Korek 2017). For Thompson, the use of postcolonial theory was not limited to political theory developed for the Polish internal public debate. She saw in it a great chance to communicate “the experience of non-German and non-Russian Eastern Europe” using language which is broadly understood and accepted. She believes the use of
Conservative Use of Postcolonial Rhetoric 211 postcolonial theory can make this experience understandable, and that the theory can function as a “slip road to the highway of the world discourse” (Thompson 2010: 22). It would make it possible for the region to be understood beyond “Slavic studies”, dominated by a focus on Russia. The adaptation of postcolonial theory for conservative use had of course its critics (for an overview of them, see Cobel-Tokarska 2021). They point to the many problematic aspects of her ideology, mainly to her use of the Sarmatian myth. This is not only an example of her “necessary fantasy” of a great past with a compensatory function. It is also a reference to the past of Polish imperialism, colonization, and serfdom, which some authors believe may be compared with slavery (Sowa 2011, 2014). It is thus no surprise that this use of postcolonial theory has found an alternative in Polish academia. The left-wing and feminist literary scientist Maria Janion presented in her book Niesamowita Słowiańszczyzna (Uncanny Slavdom, 2006) a much more radical vision of Polish coloniality that among other things regarded the Catholic element of Polish tradition as a colonization of original Slavic paganism. In her reconstruction of the ambivalent Polish role as “the east of the West and the west of the East” (2006: 213), Janion sensitively reconstructs how Poland and Polish culture was at some moments colonizing and at other moments colonized. To some extent, Janion is aware that she is creating myth, but this myth has a critical and self-critical edge. In formulating her aim, she quotes Thomas Mann: “to wrest myth from the hands of fascists” (2006: 23). This double use of the postcolonial approach, used both to analyze how the Poles were colonized and how they colonized others, is followed and developed into actual and persuasive analysis by Agata Pyzik (2014) and Snochowska-Gonzalez (2017). But even more important than criticism of the conservative postcolonialist image of the past was criticism of their aims in the present. Jan Sowa describes the conservative project as modernity without modernism: accepting all the benefits of modernity but resisting the emancipatory values connected with it. The postcolonial framing of conservative xenophobia appears to be a potentially very useful way of providing exculpation by accepting a universally understandable subordinate position (Sowa 2014, 2018). According to Stanley Bill, this casts a strange light on Spivak’s idea of “strategic essentialism” as a temporary compromise with the essentialist concept of the “identity” of the oppressed. Bill underlines that Spivak herself doubted this idea and above all doubted its use (as a temporary “strategic essentialism” became an excuse for pure essentialism) and shows how even a temporary embrace of essentialism can include very problematic allies (Bill 2014). Czechia, or anticolonial way towards left-wing conservativism –and beyond In the Czech context, during the 2000s, we do not find a rise of autochthonous conservative thought comparable to the Polish one in the latter’s use of postcolonial theory. While there was a strong Eurosceptic conservative nationalist current around former president (from 2003 to 2013) Václav Klaus, who even repeatedly declared his solidarity with Poland’s PiS, there was also a remarkable difference. While
212 Ondřej Slačálek PiS was a party of protest against the form and content of postcommunist transformation, Václav Klaus was the most important leader of the transformation. His key rhetorical figure was “standard solutions” in politics and economics. Standard meant of course a Western, or, more precisely, Thatcherist synthesis of neoliberal economics with conservative nationalist politics, and the idea that “the Third Way is the fastest way to the Third World“ (as he told the World Economic Forum in 1990). The content of his “standard” ideas then developed so as to include not only marketization and electoral majoritarianism but also mobilization against “civil society”, “NGOism” and the EU, and also climate scepticism –which meant, of course, that they were now far away from the mainstream of the real West. In spite of this, he posited himself in the framework of Western (especially Anglo–US) debate as holding one position in it. He and the milieu around him were thus able to become radicalized (going as far as to propagate the conspiracy theory of the “great replacement” of population planned by the EU elite during the migration crisis –Klaus and Weigel 2015), but anticolonial framing was unacceptable to him, as was engagement with postcolonial theory (Klaus posited himself as an economist and promoter of “Anglo-Saxon clear science” against “German-French philosophising”). Meanwhile, few authors worked openly with the framing of the Czech experience as colonial. While historian Veronika Sušová-Salminem used some concepts of postcolonial theory in scholarly debates (2012, 2015), left-wing critical economist Ilona Švihlíková, a critic of neoliberalism and one of the leaders of the Czech antiausterity movement in 2010–2014, wrote a book that was almost a political bestseller. Her book Jak jsme se stali kolonií [How we became a colony] (2015) focused on a depiction of the Czech economic transformation as a story of dependent integration. The author also promotes a political cure: independent support of the national economy by a self-confident Czech nation-state. Quoting many ordinary people, whom she had supposedly met, as saying that Czechia should become some form of “protectorate” of Germany, she answers by evoking Nazi Protector Reinhard Heydrich and his ideas regarding the fate of the Czech nation (that the Czech lands belong to Germans and Czechs are not allowed to be present there) (Švihlíková 2015: 213). By this dramatizing of the context, she underlined both in the book and in her parallel writings (Fiala 2015) that we need a new national renaissance, a return to the legacy of the Czech nationalism of the 19th century (conserved by Stalinism and deconstructed after 1989). Without some “national idea” (Švihlíková 2015: 214), the nation cannot emancipate itself from the position of colony. Ilona Švihlíková’s book contributed to the debate about the position of Czech workers in an economy dependent on German industry. The trade unions then led a campaign against “cheap labour”, highlighting the disproportion between Czech and German wages. Švihlíková contributed with the argument that the economic performance of the Czech economy is 65% of that of the German economy, while real wages are 40% of German wages (Švihlíková 2015: 143). The campaign had some resonance and even success, managing to challenge the dominant discourse of the necessity of cheap wages. Still, it was definitely not a “national renaissance” with a grand “national idea”.
Conservative Use of Postcolonial Rhetoric 213 Soon, however, there came a version of “national renaissance” that Švihlíková had not anticipated. It was not, however, a protest against economic colonialism, but during the “refugee crisis”, it took the form of Islamophobic protest against accepting refugees and other migrants, especially Muslim ones and especially on the basis of redistribution quotas from the EU. While almost all relevant political parties from right to left accepted the majority position in society and protested against refugee quotas, the nonparliamentary liberal and radical left with its relatively influential media (Deník Referendum and A2larm) strove to promote the pro-refugee position with strong arguments regarding solidarity and antiracism. Sušová-Salminem and Švihlíková then started a new left-wing internet journal Časopis Argument! (Argument! magazine) to present a third way between two bad options: being “useful idiots” of the liberal antiracist agenda and being xenophobes. Some other voices close to them were even more antimigrant: the most important was Jan Keller, an important critical sociologist who was an organic intellectual of the environmentalist alterglobalist, antiwar and antiausterity movements, and at that time served as a social democratic MEP. During the refugee crisis, Jan Keller became one of the most prolific media commentators attacking the acceptance of migrants and even meeting on some platforms with neoliberal former president Václav Klaus, his arch-enemy in the 1990s and 2000s. It was a surprise. During the 1990s and 2000s, Jan Keller (1993) had been one of only a few public intellectuals spreading knowledge about the global South and promoting solidarity (while, even then, he promoted localist alternatives). Now he considered solidarity with refugees to be the result of the illogical construction of the EU (Keller 2017). While in his previous critical sociological works, he quoted Marcuse and Fromm, now he considered “neo-Marxism” a complement of neoliberalism, helping neoliberalism to deconstruct barriers that prevent the rapid accumulation of capital (Keller 2020). To formulate a new left-wing project, Švihlíková and Keller were joined by two other figures: the former Green Party chairman Matěj Stropnický, and above all, Petr Drulák, IR professor and one of the key figures in the building of this field in the 2000s, who later on started to call for radical anticorruption revolution (Drulák 2009), and for political transformation based on spiritual and national “brotherhood” as a source of alternatives at a moment of crisis (Drulák 2012). He spent some time in diplomacy as deputy minister of foreign affairs, when he was virulently attacked by the Czech mainstream for refusing Václav Havel’s legacy and attacking the universality of human rights in the context of the pro-Chinese turn of Czech diplomacy.3 He then served as ambassador to France, and after losing this position, he returned to the public debate, promoting, as an intellectual connected with the Social Democrats (he was chairman of the scientific board of its think tank, the Masaryk Democratic Academy) the ideas of the French far-right thinker Alain de Benoist and nonconformist socialist Jean-Claude Michéa. Michéa´s book Les Mystères de la gauche (2013, Czech translation 2019) was translated by Petr Drulák, thereby initiating a major debate on the Czech left. While the book is not informed by a postcolonial perspective, it contains a depiction of global liberalism which is on a deeper level compatible with the imaginary of colony: it describes it as a globalizing and uprooting machine which depersonalizes
214 Ondřej Slačálek relationships and responsibility, expropriates people from the world they know and absolves us in the final instance from the society we live in. Economic and cultural liberalism are twins: destroying borders and promoting ever-greater rights for minorities destroys all limits in society, and also the limits for capital (Michéa 2019). Following Michéa (at least partially),4 promoted a project for the left to divorce liberalism, a project of “conservative socialism” embracing nation and state as key instruments and also values for promoting a new socialist position going against the global oligarchy. This project was further developed and formulated in the collective book Budoucnost levice bez liberalismu [The Future of the Left without Liberalism] (2020). The core of the text was a collective manifesto written by Drulák, Švihlíková, Keller, and Stropnický, to which were added short essays by various authors, including Veronika Sušová-Salminem. The project accentuates state, sovereignty, and the importance of borders. The text argues that left-wing politics should be oriented towards the majority, towards the masses of people that understand themselves as a nation –and that if the left orients itself towards minorities, it will have a fairly predictable result: “Orientation towards various social minorities leads only to the left becoming a minority itself”. (Drulák et al. 2020: 14). But reluctance towards minorities may also have different reasons: some of them are recognized as “asocial”, whether “a fraction of one percent at the top” or “a small percent below” (Ibid., p. 25). While oligarchs at the top are much more important and produce far worse damage to society, the public legitimacy of the conservative left is based on addressing problems with both “asocial” minorities, as the minority from below also complicates everyday life for many potential left-wing voters. While they have a common and shared criticism of liberalism and the liberal (or “neo-Marxist”) left, Czech illiberal leftists are not completely unified in their vision. While Petr Drulák, Ilona Švihlíková and Jan Keller subscribed to the project of “conservative socialism”, Matěj Stropnický, and Veronika Sušová-Salminem defended “left-wing populism”. Both factions were of course united on many issues, not only on refusing the liberal imprint on the left but also on the idea of “plebeian alliances” –working together with the groups in society from which the capitalist system takes more than it gives. Drulák described the book not as a political programme, but as a preliminary basis for a political programme, accessible to various political actors. While the left seems mostly reluctant, and it has also lost power,5 there are some other actors who are open to a (plebeian?) alliance: various versions of the far right. This coincides with a move by some former important social democratic politicians from the Social Democrats to the far right. Former social democratic health minister Ivan David became an MEP for the right-wing populist and racist SPD of Tomio Okamura, and he also published Jan Keller’s most recent book (2020). While Petr Drulák popularizes De Benoist, Jan Keller wrote the preface to the book by right-wing sociologist Petr Hampl Prolomení hradeb [Breaking the Walls] (Hampl 2018), where the author actually forecasts civil (or ethno-religious) war in Europe and pretends that “our” side has to be more brutal to help defeat Islam. Jan Keller together with Petr Hampl also became members of the initiative Kudy
Conservative Use of Postcolonial Rhetoric 215 z krize? (Which way out of the crisis?) focused on a “national renaissance” or “saving the nation”, which formed around the leader of the Stalinist (and more and more nationalist) wing of the Czech Communist Party Josef Skála. The logic of sovereigntist decolonization led Drulák and Švihlíková even further, to build a common political platform with the far right. In a commentary on the French presidential election, Petr Drulák declared that the left and (far) right should now unite against the “dominance of the extreme centre” (Drulák 2022a). This unification has had both theoretical and practical results. On the level of theory, Drulák (2022b) was the editor of a book called Sovereignty from the right and the left, with the participation of both left-wing Czech and Slovak thinkers (Švihlíková, Keller, Drulák, Luboš Blaha) and right-wing ones (Hampl, Ivo Budil, Ján Čarnogurský) and an (“moderately critical”) afterword by Alain de Benoist. What unified the authors with exception of Benoist was the idea that without strong national sovereignty, there is no democracy –and that this democratic nation-state sovereignty needs to be mobilized and used against the dictatorship of globalized liberalism. To provide an intellectual basis for this union, Drulák published a book entitled Podvojný svět (Two-principle world, 2022c), using de Benoist´s criticism of monotheism and defence of polytheism as a philosophical basis for a defence of local plurality against the pressure of universalist globalized liberalism. In this context, liberalism was evoked as a “colonial” force and sovereignty as the only usable tool against this colonial nature of liberalism. “Voluntary colonisation” was according to Drulák main characteristic of the Czech society (Institut české levice 2022). The practical conclusion of this position was even more surprising: In November 2022, Petr Drulák together with Ilona Švihlíková and well-known Catholic ultra- conservative Michal Semín, founded a new organization called Svatopluk, with the idea of unifying the far right and left (to “connect right-wing and left-wing patriots” by their own words – Svatopluk 2023). The name of the organization refers to the king of Great Moravia in the 9th century who, according to legend, asked his sons first to try and break individual sticks and then to try and break a bundle of sticks. As they were unsuccessful in the second case, the moral of the story is the importance of unity. According to Drulák, this legend ought to be the basis on which to reunite the nation against the dictatorship of liberalism, while some critics point to the similarity between the bundle of sticks and the fascio, the original symbol of Italian fascism. However, Drulák rejects these accusations as an absurdity (Institut české levice 2022). The political construction of his new organization speaks for itself: Not only did Drulák find a common platform of the left and far right in the name of struggle against colonizing global liberalism and in favour of democratic national sovereignty, but he also based this platform on an almost completely conservative agenda: criticism of human rights, reconstruction of national traditions and defence of “sovereignty”. Conclusion What makes some concepts of postcolonial theory and, even more so, some tropes of anticolonial rhetoric so attractive to national conservatives both on the right and
216 Ondřej Slačálek left? We may identify three important moments which together create a slippery slope that makes this kind of thinking and rhetoric especially accessible for conservative use. Image of external (liberal) usurpation. The depiction of liberalism as a cold machine slicing through the borders of the nation as well as any other boundaries (sex and gender, race, and so on) is powerful and moving, especially now, when this may easily correspond to many aspects of social experience. Postcolonial theory and/or anticolonial rhetoric is very suitable as a starting point for depicting this monster, since by its very use it clearly defines many practices and relationships as illegitimate merely by naming them in this way. Image of local superiority. The discourse of colony almost automatically distributes moral positions between “global” or “metropolitan” and “local” (or often “national”). Being local implies a mostly morally superior position as well as deeper knowledge, and above all, an epistemologically and politically legitimate position from which it is possible both to understand better and be just. Even in the case of problematic politics or problematic epistemology, the position of colonized subjects or –even better –subjects resisting colonization brings a moral comparative advantage. It would be strange if conservatives did not try to exploit this. The colonial framework is one of the few frameworks (or maybe even the only framework) in which nationalism may appear as a legitimate and morally superior position. Borrowing of pathos. These effects work, as they come from well-known historical processes which are now almost consensually (with the exception of some right-wing authors) judged to be a fatal and criminal misuse of Western power. To add this paradigm to the contemporary situation may be considered bricolage, but it is also persuasive, partly because the alienation produced by real liberalism is broadly experienced. What is paradoxical is that the rhetoric of colonialism pits against global liberalism another globalist vision –the vision of globalized nationalism and of the majority of the world being “colonised”. Ewa Thompson´s metaphor of the “slip road on to the highway” is a very telling metaphor. The stories of various places and various countries have to be homogenized into a single pattern of “colonisation”, and there they overtake other standardized products, the stories of other nations and regions prefabricated according to the same formula. There are many accessible ways to criticize these ideological mixtures of anticolonial rhetoric or even postcolonial theory with right-wing or even left-wing conservative ideas. Above all, they remind us that it may be naïve to expect that speaking from colonial wounds can make various regions closer and make dialogue possible –as various colonial wounds have different dynamics and their consequences can easily go against each other. We can also point to Agnes Gagyi’s analysis of CEE as semiperipheries that strive mostly to be accepted by the core, not to challenge the whole unjust world system (Gagyi 2016). We can add a reference to another analyst of the Central European semiperiphery, Ivan Kalmar (2022), and his concept of “partial privilege”, which is a real problem addressed by Central Europeans, or point to the feminist analysis of Iveta Jusová (2016), who uses an analogy to the “male dividend” for which not only privileged but also
Conservative Use of Postcolonial Rhetoric 217 underprivileged men strive: a “European dividend” for which Central European nations strive. The use of postcolonial theory or anticolonial rhetoric in this context looks like misuse of them. Not only are they, when used in the Polish context by Ewa Thompson, connected with the orientalization of Russia, but also in the Czech context with a clear element of surprise which can be summarized as follows: it is understandable that some parts of the world become colonies, but us? But behind the curiosity, we are faced with two serious questions. The first is: where does the conservative approach provide not only a reactionary political position but also some elements of an adequate grasp of power relationships? After all, it works –colonizing very successfully not only the frustration of Central Europeans with economic transformation and the frustration of many of the world’s populations with liberal globalization but also colonizing, as we have seen, the tools of postcolonial theory and anticolonial rhetoric. What does this success say about the possibility of formulating an emancipatory alternative? And the second question, formulated by critics of the Polish conservative use of postcolonial theory such as Stanley Bill and Jan Sowa, is this: what does this misuse tell us about proper use of postcolonial theory? Can the concepts of postcolonial theory bring us into the world of “new universalism” advocated by Wallerstein et al. (1996), opening the experiences of the disadvantaged to dialogue and healing colonial wounds by deeper knowledge and progressive political praxis, or do they bring us to a world of particularism where subjects, legitimized by their traumatic past, refuse dialogue and use the “highway of world discourse” only for their own closed vehicles, promoting their stories and not listening to the experiences of others? Notes 1 The research for this chapter was supported by the European Regional Development Fund-Project ‘Creativity and adaptability as conditions of the success of Europe in an interrelated world’ (No. CZ.02.1.01/0.0/0.0/16_019/0000734). 2 I have already analyzed some of the arguments of Ewa Thompson in two articles (Slačálek 2016; Slačálek 2020a) and I have also participated in polemical exchange with Petr Drulák and some other proponents of conservative socialism (Slačálek 2020b). This current work uses some of my arguments from these earlier articles, but presented in a completely new framework and for a completely new purpose. 3 Some left-wing authors supporting him in the idea that to promote human rights in the whole world and especially in China would be “colonial” (Bělohradský 2016). 4 Michéa supports radical environmentalism and degrowth, Drulák declared climate-sceptic positions (Drulák 2020). 5 In the 2021 parliamentary elections, both the social democrats and communists lost all their MPs and Czech parliament now has no left-wing parties.
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Conservative Use of Postcolonial Rhetoric 219 Klaus, V. and Weigel, J. (2015) Stěhování národů s.r.o.: Stručný manuál k pochopení současné migrační krize, Praha: Olympia. Korek, J. (2017) O demokracji, czyli postkolonialne aspekty dyskursów IV Rzeczypospolitej, Świat i Słowo –World and Word 29(2), pp. 33–74. Kováts, E. (2021) “Right-Wing Anti-Colonialism and Universalising Postcolonialism”, Berliner gazette, available at: https://blogs.mediapart.fr/berliner-gazette/blog/221 221/black-box-east-right-wing-anti-colonialism-and-universalising-postcolonialism (accessed 10 April 2022). Krasnodębski, Z. (2003) Demokracja peryferii, Gdańsk: Obraz, słowo, terytoria. Legutko, R. (2016) The Demon in Democracy: Totalitarian Temptations in Free Societies, New York, NY: Encounter Books. Michéa, J.-C. (2019) Tajnosti levice: Od ideálu osvícenství k triumfu neomezeného kapitalismu, Praha: Masarykova demokratická akademie, trans. Petr Drulák. Moore, D. C. (2001) “Is the Post in Postcolonial the Post in Post-Soviet? Toward a Global Postcolonial Critique.” PMLA 116(1), pp. 111–128. Pyzik, A. (2014) Poor But Sexy: Culture Clashes in Europe East and West, Portland, Oregon: Zero Books. Slačálek, O. (2016) The Postcolonial Hypothesis: Notes on the Czech ‘Central European’ Identity, Annual of Language & Politics and Politics of Identity 10, pp. 27–44. Slačálek, O. (2020a) Postkoloniální střední Evropa? Kunderův „unesený Západ“ v zrcadle postkoloniální kritiky, Slovo a smysl 17 (no. 34), pp. 105–130. Slačálek, O. (2020b) “Michéovy Tajnosti levice udávají dobré důvody pro špatné kroky”, A2larm, available at: https://a2larm.cz/2020/03/micheovy-tajnosti-levice-udavaji-dobre- duvody-pro-spatne-kroky (Accessed 10 April 2022). Snochowska-Gonzalez, C. (2017) Wolność i pisanie: Dorota Masłowska i Andrzej Stasiukw postkolonialnej Polsce. Warszawa: Oficyna Naukowa. Sowa, J. (2011) Fantomowe ciało króla. Peryferyjne zmagania z nowoczesną formą. Kraków: Universitas. Sowa, J. (2014) “Forget Postcolonialism, There’s a Class War Ahead”, nonsite.org, available at: https://nonsite.org/article/forget-postcolonialism-theres-a-class-war-ahead (accessed 10 April 2022). Sowa, J. (2018) Populism or Capitalist De-modernization at the Semi-periphery: The Case of Poland, nonsite.org, available at: https://nonsite.org/populism-or-capitalist-de-modern ization-at-the-semi-periphery-the-case-of-poland (accessed 10 April 2022). Spivak, G., Chernetsky, V., Condee, N. and Ram, H. (2006) “Conference Debates: Are We Postcolonial? Post-Soviet Space”, PMLA,121(3), pp. 828–836. Sušová-Salminen, V. (2012) Rethinking the Idea of Eastern Europe from a Postcolonial Perspective. In: Alenius, K. and Fält, O. K. (eds.): Vieraan Rajalla. Studia Historica Septentrionalia 64, pp. 191–209. Sušová-Salminen, V. (2015) Damnation of the Centre? Ambivalence and Cultural Diversity in the Notion of Central Europe in the 1980s and 1990s. In: Alenius, K. and Lehtola, V. P. (eds.): Transcultural Encounters. Studia Historica Septentrionalia 75, 2015, pp. 257–271. Svatopluk (2023) Kdo jsme?, available at www.svatoplukzs.cz (accessed 6 June 2023). Švihlíková, I. (2015) Jak jsme se stali kolonií. Praha: Rybka. Thompson, E. (2000a) Imperial Knowledge: Russian Literature and Colonialism, Westport, CT –London: Greenwood Press. Thompson, E. (2000b) Trubadurzy imperium. Literatura rosyjska i kolonializm, trans. AnnaSierszulska. Universitas, Kraków. Thompson, E. (2005) Said a sprawa Polska, Fakt. Gazeta Codzienna.
220 Ondřej Slačálek Thompson, E. (2010) Je Polsko postkoloniální země? In: Ruczaj. M. and Szymanowski, M (eds.): Pravým okem. Antologie současného polského politického myšlení. Centrum pro studium demokracie a kultury, Brno: CDK, pp. 21–35. Tlostanova, M. (2015) Can the post-Soviet think? On coloniality of knowledge, external imperial and double colonial difference. Intersections. East European Journal of Society and Politics 1(2), pp. 38–58. Uffelmann, D. (2020) Polska literature postkolonialna. Od sarmatyzmu do migracjipoakcesyjnej. Kraków: Universitas. Ukr-TAZ (2022) Decolonialism and the invasion of Ukraine, Ukr-TAZ, available at: https:// blog.uvm.edu/aivakhiv-ukrtaz/2022/03/22/decolonialism-and-the-invasion-of-ukraine/ (Accessed 10 April 2022). Wallerstein, I. et al. (1996) Open the Social Sciences, report of the Gulbenkian Commission on the Restructuring of the Social Sciences, Stanford: Stanford University Press.
12 “Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary” The Visitors’ Comments at the Museum of the Macedonian Struggle in Skopje and the Reception of History and Memory Narratives in North Macedonia (2011–2014) Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska
Introduction1 The Museum of the Macedonian Struggle for Independence [mk. Muzej na makedonskata borba za samostojnost; further in the text: Museum, Museum of the Macedonian Struggle] is certainly the most outspoken museum project in recent Macedonian history.2 Conceived by the political party VMRO-DPMNE in the mid- 2000s, it was carried out during its second government (2006 to 2016–2017) as a museum complex intended to encapsulate the political history of the Macedonian national struggle from the 19th century to the state independence in 1991. It opened to the public in 2011 as a “specialized national museum” [mk. specijaliziran nacionalen muzej] with a permanent exhibition that up to the mid-2010s grew to 109 newly commissioned artworks, 155 wax figures, and over 1,100 artifacts in the new building of 6,435 square meters (out of which 2,500 square meters of exhibition space).3 The building is located on the left side of the Vardar River, in the very city centre of Skopje, and it was built as one of the flagships of the “Skopje 2014 project” (the umbrella term for the approximately 140 memorial objects placed in the capital city as of the late 2000s). Both the exhibition and museal building attracted many visitors ever since the opening, surpassing the expectations of their creators and immediately becoming the most visited museum in today’s North Macedonia: “more than 20.000 domestic and foreign visitors” paid a visit during the first month (Plavevski 2011), a number that rose up to 70,000 visits by the end of September 2012.4 According to its first director, the Museum was also granted several distinctions shortly after its inauguration, the most prominent being the European Museum Academy’s 2015 Živa Award, while he was invited to present the museal project in China, Spain, and the Russian Federation. The Museum’s popularity among the locals often transcended the common museal activities as it also became, as early as early 2012, a popular site for wedding photoshoots and marriage registrations, but also a site of other official and unofficial celebrations, and partisan events (more in Trajanovski 2020a: 32–62). However, the public reception of the Museum, from 2006 and the very first moment of communicating the project idea, is far from uniform and favourable. DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-17
222 Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska It was already argued that the heated debates prior to its official opening significantly altered its initially planned exhibition that deliberately encircled the wartime episodes of the Yugoslav Partisan struggle and the National Liberation War in Macedonia [mk. narodnoosloboditelna borba, NOB], both of them formative for the Macedonian state- and nation-building (more in Trajanovski 2021).5 Notwithstanding, the original idea for a museum space that links the history of the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization6 and the victims of the communist regime prevailed –“despite the large resistance from the [political] opposition, part of the media and part of the experts” as articulated by the then PM Nikola Gruevski in his introductory text of the Museum monograph (2012, 5) – and, ultimately, it started operating under the name of “Museum of the Macedonian Struggle for Statehood and Independence-Museum of the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization-Museum of the Victims of the Communist Regime”. Thenceforward, the Museum was often depicted as the “VMRO Museum” in public hinting, simultaneously, at its content and the political party which brought the project to daylight. In parallel, the management was criticized for the manner in which the museum visits were organized (with a mandatory guide, in a group, with a limited time window, and without a possibility to take photos), the dark museal atmosphere, and the historical narrative showcased in the Museum: a “history of great man” styled exhibition –with an insignificant number of women, we can add –that overlooked much of the well-established curatorial and historiographic tropes for portraying the 20th-century history of Macedonia (for an overview, see Trajanovski 2020a). It is also noteworthy that the Museum was by and large promoted as a memorial site that opens “new chapters” of Macedonian history by displaying both the positive and the negative historical figures of the late 19th and the 20th centuries, or “the victims and the perpetrators” (Gruevski 2012: 7). This curatorial model appeared to have the necessary potential to affirm the claims of all the actors involved in the project development. It certainly drew upon the mid-2000s historiographic writings of the historians Violeta Ačkoska and Nikola Žežov, who were also part of the team that co-authored the permanent exhibition. Both of them, alongside the flagbearer of the museum project, the late historian Zoran Todorovski, started applying this reading of the late Ottoman past to socialist times; thus, formatting a revisionist discourse regarding Yugoslav Macedonia as a monochrome history of political repression and repressed activists of predominantly rightist political credos. Although without clear links with the then-emerging transnational frameworks of interpreting the communist past in East Central and South East Europe, this model was relatively quickly picked up and championed by the Macedonian political elite behind the museum project. For instance, during a 2007 parliamentary debate, Gruevski, who self-ascribes the credit for the idea behind the Museum, singled out London’s “Madame Tussauds” as a corresponding museal site where both the good and bad historical personae are showcased “without any prejudices” (Trajanovski 2020a: 91). The end result, however, was an exhibition that was rather suggestive of the partisan take on the political history of the Macedonian state-and nation- building (see Trajanovski 2020a).7 More importantly, this curatorial model was implemented without constructive public debate and far from a political or social
“Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary” 223 consensus. As such, it also informed the selection of wax figures and displayed historical scenes: the assortment of wax figures went beyond the local historical personae as the Museum displayed Mussolini, Hitler, and Stalin in its Main Hall (the last two in saluting positions), without any additional context and readable descriptive plaques; the only rationale being their significant roles in the recent European history and their impact on the regional history (Šaševski 2016). Among the figures of the political leaders was also the figure of Baba Vangja (1911–1996), a famous clairvoyant born in the Macedonian city of Strumica, revered both in North Macedonia and Bulgaria. Setting up the study In this chapter, we focus on the comments in Museum’s visitor books from the early phase of the functioning of the Museum; an aspect which we identify as missing both in the public and scholarly debates about the Museum and yet immensely telling for the museum project and the memory politics in the state in general. The main research intuition of ours was that the visitor books might allow for a more nuanced view of the disputed Museum, its work, and its impact on the national and, especially, ethnic Macedonian community. We build upon the thesis that the Museum can be read as an epitome of the memory politics of the second VMRO-DPMNE government as well as the partisan agenda of a discursive centre that sets up a framework for a museal rereading of the 20th-century history across the state.8 For instance, the government mimicked the model of the Museum in Skopje in several other newly established historical museums across the state that opened shortly after 2011, such as the “Memorial House of the Tatarčev family” in Resen and the Štip-based “Museum of the VMRO activists from Štip and the Štip region” (more in Trajanovski 2020a). A particular finale of this politics was the re-establishment of the party’s new “opulent” headquarters, opened in 2012 as part of “Skopje 2014” which hosts “more than fifty oversize photo-realistic scenes that placed VMRO-DPMNE party members at the heart of Macedonia’s long-standing nationalist struggle” (Harris-Brandts 2022: 162). The new museum institutions were given larger funding and attention than the “old” ones, or the museums and cultural institutions established during socialist Macedonia. The advancement of parallel institutions marked the cultural politics of the VMRO-DPMNE government in general, as this tendency was also observable, inter alia, in heritage management, book publishing, film, and theatre from the late 2000s and the 2010s (more in Reyhan Kayikci et al. 2022). We managed to collect and code a total number of 304 visitors’ comments from 2011 to 2014 and we analyzed them with a research model that we developed during the first months of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 (presented in the next section). We also want to share our observation that there is no other research on the visitors’ comments in the Macedonian scholarship, although there are visitor books in all the larger history museums in the state.9 In this chapter, we focus on the particular set of visitors’ comments from the given period of time as exclusive insights into the reception of history and memory narrative over the “newer
224 Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska Macedonian history” (Todorovski and Ačkoska 2012: 12) that was communicated in the course of the second VMRO-DPMNE government period. We situate our findings within the debate over the “symbolic aspects” of the illiberal and populist politics in the Republic of Macedonia from the late 2000s and during the 2010s (Gjuzelov and Ivanovska Hadjievska 2020; also see: Petkovski 2016; Panov and Taleski 2020; Janev and Mattioli 2021; Nikolovski 2021; Trajanovski 2021; Harris-Brandts 2022). The focus of the majority of scholarly arguments was put on the political treatment of antiquity, with the reimagining of the late 19th and 20th- century history remaining mostly unnoticed. We are therefore convinced that this chapter provides an addition to this debate as it presents a systematic take on the reception of the key memory object from the “mature” governing phase of VMRO- DPMNE, from late 2011 to 2014. We also want to make a case for our interdisciplinary approach as the most advantageous standpoint for analyzing the rightist project of reimagining history and memory in post-Yugoslav Macedonia. We build upon the nationalism studies’ assumption that every “nation [needs] to perform itself well enough that complete strangers would claim the knowledge and rituals on view as their own” (Levitt 2015: 6; also see Smith 2013). History museums provide a perfect platform for this tendency having in mind both the manifested realms and their everyday activities, but also the unlimited potentials of what Mieke Bal depicts as “the core of the idea of [the] exhibition” (Bal 2005: 148). We do approach this “core” as a domain that is loaded with the views, opinions, and discourses of a divergent set of sociopolitical actors. The Skopje-based Museum is an immensely interesting case study in this regard as it allows for a multilayered reading: heretofore, it was discussed as an extension of the anti-communist (Angelovska 2014) and nationalistic politics (Zubkovych 2014; Sawyer 2014; Širok 2018; Hadjievska 2022) of the second VMRO-DPMNE government, while Trajanovski (2020a; 2021) engaged with the previous ideas for such a museum and traced them back to the initial post-Yugoslav debates about the 20th-century Macedonian history in the national context. Although not necessarily referring to the Museum, the critical scholarship also depicts the Yugoslav dissolution and the emergence of the Macedonian independent state in 1991 as the juncture for the public representation of the history of Macedonia in the former southernmost Yugoslav state. Moreover, as of the mid-2000s, the focal point of the official cultural, memory, and museum politics would be the redefinition of the Republic of Macedonia’s relation with Second Yugoslavia (1945–1992); an aspect that several scholars observed to be the key rationale behind “Skopje 2014” (for an overview, see Trajanovski 2020a: 33–45; see, as well, Kramarić 2015, who discussed these dynamics from a postcolonial perspective). Before proceeding with the presentation of the research model, we want to reconstruct, in brief, a regular visit to the Museum in the time period from 2011 to 2014 as this exercise to a large extent informed our argument. The Museum, as above mentioned, was built at the river bank in the very city centre, just opposite the new building of the Holocaust Memorial Center for the Jews of Macedonia
“Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary” 225 (opened for the public in March 2011) and next to the recreated building of the National Theater that was damaged in-and destroyed after the 1963 Skopje earthquake (inaugurated in 2013). The main entrance to the Museum Hall is now facing a memorial complex of several monuments and fountains depicting Phillip II of Macedon and an ancient Macedonian family (or the “Phillip II” square, the former “Karpoš Uprising” square; finished in 2012), which was projected to form a symbolic link with the approximately 25-meters tall Alexander the Great-alike “Warrior on horse” monument at the “Macedonia” square across the river. The Museum hence completes the “historical triangle” of “Skopje 2014” (Stefoska and Stojanov 2017: 357) that also encompasses the newly built building for the Archaeological Museum, in close proximity to “Phillip II” Square, as well as the “Macedonia” square and its memorial content.10 Once in the Museum, the visitor was supposed to wait –if she came alone – until a group of 5 to 15 visitors formed, so the museum visit –or the approximately one-hour tour of the permanent exhibition in Macedonian or English with a professional guide –could start. The vast majority of museum guides were, and still are, graduated history students with certain research experiences in contemporary Macedonian history, yet, their tours were largely based upon a ready-made narrative authored by the authors of the exhibition (Trajanovski 2020a: 100).11 The guided tours served to better navigate the museal space and assist the visitors; however, in practice, the eventual and brief visitors-guides interactions were mostly pushed back until the end of the tour. As hinted above, the visitors were unable to take photos and leave the group during the tour, while the tempo was primarily dictated by the tour guide. In the end, the visitor would re-enter the Main Hall of the Museum where a visitor book [mk. knigi na vpečatoci; books of impressions] and the museum shop were/are located. The Hall also contains the original version of the 1991 State Independence Declaration, deposited by the erstwhile President of the Republic of Macedonia during the inauguration of the Museum, as well as a massive stained-glass window with motifs from Macedonian folklore. The engagement with the visitors’ book was/is voluntary and the books themselves were/are not arranged in any suggestive manner: blanc pages where we were able to find inscriptions by both regular and special guests in many different languages. This visiting pattern shifted after the 2016–2017 governmental change when the erstwhile new Minister of Culture formed a Working Group that prepared an Elaborate for reevaluating the social and expert justification for the existence of the Museum. In turn, several changes were introduced as of 2017: most notably, the shortened name of the institution, the possibility to visit the exhibition without a guide and a group, and take photos in the Museum. The very establishment of the Museum and the financial activities related to it were also scrutinized by the public prosecutors after the governmental change, under the suspicion of financial malversation in 2013 and 2014, while the trial involving inter alia the former Minister of Culture is yet to come to a closure (more on the case in Jordanovska 2016; Trpkovski 2019).12
226 Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska Research design We consider all the inscriptions in the Museum’s visitor books as “utterances” (Noy 2008a; Coffee 2013) and approach the textual comments as means of grasping (i) visitors’ framings of their museal experiences, broadly speaking, as the “talk back” to the museum aspect in visitor studies (Boyd 1999), and (ii) the manners in which the Museum facilitate visitors’ articulations of memory and history discourses; with museums being seen as “prosthetic” tools (Landsberg 2004; see, as well, Sodaro 2018; 2019) that help individuals to internalize the museal, history, and memory messages.13 The model as such is largely based upon the museum visitor studies or audience research, an interdisciplinary study field that boomed alongside the general opening of museums to the broader public in the 1960s and 1970s, as well as the common study field postulations of museums as mediums for communicating sociopolitical messages (see, as well, the “mediatic turn” in museum studies; an overview in Hooper-Greenhill 1994) and museum visits as sensemaking processes (some most prominent empirical case studies are available in Roppola 2012; Falk 2016).14 We do, however, focus on the identity- and community-building features of the visitor books’ comments and overlook much of their linguistic, aesthetic, and educational aspects which are neatly developed in the recent academic discussions of visitor books across the globe.15 Visitors’ comments, in our case, function as first-hand evidence of visitors’ “personal frames of references” –or schema (Dodd et al. 2012) –of negotiating their identities in public: be it partisan, ethnic, or national ones, to name a few. A large segment of these frames is already there, developed by the visitor before the museum visit, as a result of the dominant cultural, memory, and citizenship regimes of the day.16 The comments are also illustrative of the affective reactions of the visitors; we do perceive affects as socially mediated, in line with the “affective turn” in cultural studies and sociology of culture (for an overview, see: Frevert 2011; Ritivoi 2020). The museums, on the other hand, are perceived as widely as possible: as narrative and performative spaces that are embedded in the dominant dispositif (Hetherington 2015), they are “memory devices” (Kobielska 2017; 2018) that activate those frames and structure the visitor experience through various “closed down meaning-making techniques” (Witcomb 2015). Hence, we view the museum visit, in line with Dodd et al. (2012: 168–176), as an “interplay” between the schema and the various museal themes, constructions, and narratives. The division between the two above aspects in the research foci is analytical, while the two of them are complimentary and part of the “interplay” of the visitors and the museums. We focus on the period from the inauguration of the Museum in September 2011 to the end of March 2014 as we consider this period representable enough and even formative for its functioning, as it set the tone of several day-to-day practices which were ongoing during the following few years.17 In total, we managed to code 304 visitors’ comments from four visitor books, one per each of the analyzed years: 105 from 2011, 90 from 2012, 50 from 2013, and 14 from 2014. We coded all the readable comments in Macedonian, predominantly written
“Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary” 227 by ethnic Macedonians living in North Macedonia (224) and the diaspora (11).18 Further on, we composed a tripartite coding system that was used to structure the data on (i) general information (date; length of the comment –1–2 rows, 2–5 rows or more than 5 rows; place of living; and signature –if the comment is signed or not, and how is it signed), (ii) general indications of the comment (tone of the comment; positioning towards the Museum; positioning towards the exhibition; positive-; negative indications; and associations), and (iii) specific indications of the comment (topics; argumentation; type of argumentation; positioning towards neighbouring states; ruling party; and oppositional parties). As for the general indications, we projected three scenarios for the first category (positive, negative, negotiative) and the second and third categories (positive, negative, neutral), as well as several associations for the positive and negative indications (historical narrative, artworks, wax figures, weapons, atmosphere, guide, tempo, museal offer, other). As for the specific indications, we categorized the comments into six thematic categories regarding the topic of the comment (historical, political, religious, cultural, museal, or many topics); we envisioned three scenarios for the positioning towards neighbouring states (positive, negative, neutral) and four scenarios for the positionings towards the ruling and the oppositional parties (praising, identifying, negative, negotiative). The above coding model helped us map an overview of the comments inscribed during the particular period. In general, the majority of comments expressed positive stances towards the Museum, the then permanent exhibition, and the museum work (79% of the total number of comments in the course of the four analyzed years), with evidently high numbers of comments praising the Museum (79%), the exhibition (78%), and the historical narrative showcased in the Museum (35%). We therefore start our discussion by portraying what we named a “satisfied visitor” of the Museum which is an ideal type constructed upon the views, opinions, and evaluations expressed in the comments. We then proceed with interpreting several aspects of this visitor type. We first focus on the comments from the initial few months after the opening of the Museum. We argue that the Museum visits during this period triggered affective reactions which enhanced feelings of national pride and patriotism. The second argument resonates with the community-building feature of the Museum, its exhibition, and the museal visit.19 We argue that the shift in the comments indicates a certain change in the pattern of visitors’ positioning toward the Museum: from truth-seeking to a rather instrumental, which we depict as an inclination to be part of a memory community.20 This argument also resonates with Paul Williams’s observation about visitors’ expectations in memorial and history museums: he argues, in line with James Young, that a visit to a memorial museum is usually leading “beyond [visitors’] own materiality” while visitors of “standard history exhibitions” expect to learn a “good deal about a subject” (Williams 2007: 6). We then move to discuss the “dissatisfied visitor” in the same key. Contrary to the more informed visitors from the given period who by and large viewed the Museum as a nationalistic spectacle and the exhibition –as a trivial showcase of “dark heritage” (as in Bull and De Angeli 2020; see Schenker 2013; Buden 2013; Bieber 2014; Brunnbauer 2014), we argue that the bulk of
228 Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska comments showing dissatisfaction with the visit were in fact approving the general idea behind the exhibition. The “satisfied visitor” The first months
The visitors’ books from the first few months after the opening (from September 2011 to February 2012), demonstrate that visitors were mostly expressing positive attitudes toward the institution, with Museum’s “historical narrative” being praised the most in comparison to the other categories and the other researched years. More precisely, we managed to identify 50 accents on the “historical narrative” in 2011 and 44 in early 2012, as opposed to 10 in 2013 and 5 in 2014. We noted a similar tendency related to the signing of the comments in the first two researched years, either with full names and surnames (64 in 2011 and 78 in early 2012) or initials (34 in 2011 and 5 in early 2012); which were comparably larger numbers than the ones in 2013 and 2014. We also observed that the topics of the comments from this time period (2011 and early 2012) were mostly with historical connotations as compared to the other years (approximately 20% more in 2011 and 2012 than in 2013 and 2014). In addition, we noted several negative and negotiative comments which we divided into two categories: technical, which we will discuss in this section, and substantial, or related to the historical and memory aspects of the exhibition, which will be presented in the following sections. The few technical negative and negotiative comments from this period were all related to the volume of the music at the exhibition space, the waiting time for forming groups and entering the exhibition space, and, suggestively enough, the lack of proper light of the descriptive plaques and the fast tempos of the visits that left no time for reading the textual segments of the exhibition. We put forward the thesis that the above quantitative overview is pointing out a major trajectory: the nontraditional exhibition facilitated affective visitors’ responses, while the Museum helped visitors enhance feelings of patriotism and national pride. This process, however, was complex and multilayered. What is characteristic for the first few months after its inauguration is the fact that the visitors had a more prevalent tendency of depicting the tour as an encounter with the “historical facts”, “historical truth”, “dignity” and “original (or authentic) history” that were forbidden to be taught in socialist and post-socialist Macedonia (the emphasizes in italics are ours): I am happy that R. of M. also has such historical facts collected in one place (October 2011) I am impressed by the true history (October 2011) Beautiful museum. The originality and the truth are most telling about what we are and what we will be: Macedonians forever (November 2011) I am very happy from what I saw and from what you presented because everything we saw and heard was original (November 2011)
“Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary” 229 A beautiful thing!!! Especially for the young Macedonian population that does not know the original Macedonian history (November 2011) An object that presents the Macedonian history with dignity (November 2011) A critical contextual aspect here is the abovementioned public promotion of the Museum as an institution that opens “new chapters” in Macedonian history; hence the Museum displays a historical narrative that was apparently hidden and/or forbidden. Two comments are most illustrative in this regard: I am happy that finally an original version is revealed instead of the various versions of the history we were hearing about (November 2011) Even though I am a relatively older man today I learned many things about the ‘Macedonian’ 20th century. The truth was hidden for a long time (November 2011) Hence, a feeling of a revelation is one of the underlying tones of the Museum visits in the first few months of its functioning: a revelation of witnessing the concealed, true narrative of national history. The nontraditional exhibition and its affective and experiential instruments of presenting “victims and perpetrators” thus appeared to be of transformative nature for the visitors, intensifying their experiences in toto. We return to this aspect of who and for whom these mobilizations at the museum space were beneficial in the next subsection, while here we want to dwell upon another observation: we noted a seemly paradoxical situation of having many visitors depicting the exhibition as “authentic” or “original” without engaging with its most authentic segment as intended by the experts who authored the exhibition, or the showcased data and facts. This point is very much interesting as those comments related to the failure to engage with the artifacts due to the fast tempo of the tour and the lack of proper lighting were inscribed by the very same visitors who positively evaluated the visit. The museal authenticity can be hence reconstructed as a perception that the Museum is an official and authoritative space that provides exclusive access to the “back stages” of history (Noy 2008b, 188) that are otherwise inaccessible –or “hidden” –to them; a link which the “realistic” wax figures and the other artwork apparently facilitated. The aesthetic choices related to the styles of the commissioned historical scenes (over-realist, “freezing” the historical time “as it was” as per Koteska in Trajanovski 2020a: 61) and the very inclusion of wax figures hence hints at the creators’ intention to trigger such feelings among the visitors.21 We also interpret in this key the prevailing tendency of indicating historical topics when speaking about the Museum, since its visitors rarely compared it to other museum exhibitions or visits and read it, almost exclusively, as a beyond- museal experience. The only comment from this period that made a reference to other museums, read: “This exhibition left very strong impressions on me, it is prettier than Madame Tussauds in London” (November 2011). In addition, we want to point out one particular aspect from the positive comments that we also
230 Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska find suggestive. Namely, we came across many comments that defined, directly or en passant, both the exhibition and the museal visit as a “presentation” or “show” that they “witnessed” or “experienced”; for instance: I felt the tour as a theatrical spectacle (November 2011) The idea for the existence of this museum is excellent, we can closely get to know our history and experience it (January 2012) A very well-arranged museum, the wax figures and all the art paintings are well done. Interesting presentation (October 2013) One subsequent visitors’ tendency, stemming from the aforementioned feeling of experiencing/witnessing a show/presentation, was the perception of the Museum not only as a museum institution per se, but rather as a sacred place of Macedonian nationalism. This comment from December 2011 encapsulates best this argument: One more sacred place which the MACEDONIANS SHOULD visit as a pilgrimage (December 2011) Ultimately, the technique of “blurring” the epistemological borders between the “evidence-based probable knowledge of history” and fiction (Tucker 2008, 3) made the visitors perceive the establishment of the Museum as a strong case for the existence of the Macedonian nation –especially in the context of Greek and international community’s pressures for a change of the state name in the 2000s and early 2010s –and the Museum visit: an act of pledging to the nation.22 We consider the larger number of signed comments as another pointer for the afore argued, as well as a large number of signed comments with explicit nationalistic messages along these lines: Macedonia timeless (November 2011) Macedonia to the Macedonians (November 2011) Nurturing a memory community
As per Andrea Witcomb, the affective engagements at museums rely upon a pre- existing sympathy or openness to be affected in a certain way (Witcomb 2013); a point similar to the one of “entrance” narratives discussed in endnote no. 17. These pre-made visitors’ templates are informed by the state’s memory and museum politics, but also by the educational policies and cultural developments in general. Notwithstanding, as we argued in the Research design section, both museums and museum visits facilitate the process of visitors’ negotiation, reconsideration, and relegitimation of their identities, affiliations, and opinions. In this way, museums contribute to the process of constant creation and recreation of memory communities. We use this notion in line with Harold Marcuse, who claimed that the nurture and performance of a certain memory discourse have not only an identity-related
“Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary” 231 capacity but also a microsociological function of forming social groups on the basis of common perceptions of the past (2001). The episodes of setting the cornerstone of the Museum building in 2008 and the inauguration of the institution in 2011 are more than illustrative for this point, as they were attended by party members, members of the political prisoners’ association, and the Orthodox Christian religious authorities, while boycotted by the political opposition and the members of state’s Partisans’ veteran organization (more in Trajanovski 2020a: 28–31).23 We already argued that the visitors predominantly associated the museum visit and the permanent exhibition with the nation, national community, and national identity in the first few months after its opening. However, as of mid-2012, we noted a solidification of the tendency of associating the Museum with the then- governmental party of VMRO-DPMNE, its leader, and the ethnic Macedonian camp of the governmental cabinet. Here, we ought to mention the contextual novelty of having a larger number of organized visits in the Museum as of 2012 –education, corporate, and ones of the VMRO-DPMNE local organizations, oftentimes on behalf of the visits in the other and “older” Skopje-based museums –although we were not able to trace a formal decision from this period that justified these dynamics. Returning to the association of the Museum with the then governmental party, we observed that this tendency was present as of the opening of the Museum, yet, not as much as of mid-2012. Hence, we noted such comments in late 2011: A big thank you to this government, the government of Mr. Gruevski, which made this museum possible with so much data about our history that was hidden from us, and now we know why it was the case! Thank you!!! (November 2011) A big thank you to the government that created such a thing (museum) so we can get to know our history. A big thank you (November 2011) As of 2012, these gratitude-showing comments evolved into a clearer depiction of the partisan dimension of the government: I am delighted by the museum of VMRO-DPMNE and the history of Macedonia (April 2012) A big thank you to VMRO-DPMNE for this beautiful object that will remain in the permanent memory of the Macedonian people (April 2012) A big thank you to V.M.R.O for the historical unification of the Macedonian people from the whole world (April 2012) Thanks to the current government in Macedonia that incorporated the gloried Macedonian history in this magnificent museum object in a very picturesque and original manner (April 2012) This mobilization of partisan sentiments can also be read in the key of the museum performativity: a school of thought that postulates the curatorial, managerial, and
232 Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska political decisions of selecting and showcasing as critical for the museal experience as they allow visitors to activate the museal narratives by engaging with various spatial, temporal and visual aspects of the exhibitions. Here, we can evoke the case of the Resen-based memorial house mentioned in endnote no. 8, as the unarguably similar depiction of the Macedonian revolutionary struggle there, as compared to the Skopje-one, had the recreation of the initiation act of the new MRO members as an opening scene. This setting that unarguably moulded the subject positioning in the museal space in a suggestive and directed way resulted, in turn, in several reported cases of visitors “pledging allegiance” to VMRO-DPMNE in the memorial house (Trajanovski 2020, 116). Similarly, the Skopje-based Museum – that hosts a comparable scene of the inauguration act, but also had the wax figure of one of the VMRO-DPMNE’s founders, Dragan Bogdanovski, as a last one –was often reinforcing the partisan affiliations of the visitors: Mister Prime Minister thank you for enabling us this very important museum. I am proud to be Macedonian and a member of VMRO DPMNE (April 2012) It is an honor to be part of VMRO DPMNE (August 2012) All the above comments and trajectories are illustrative of two predominant tendencies: on the one hand, the Museum –as well as the other “new” museums dealing with the “newer” Macedonian history –did not leave much room for alternative visitors’ readings of the curated narrative over the exhibited time period; and on the other hand, the memory community build upon the positive attitudes towards the Museum, had its foundations not only relegitimized but also redefined by the museum visits in the course of the first few years of its functioning. The first point is particularly striking if we take under consideration the latest dynamics of the global debates over the role of museums in contemporary societies that seek to redefine museal institutions as places for critical dialogues with the different past and the potential futures (see, for instance, Sandahl 2019). It is even more striking having in mind that the team of authors of the first permanent exhibition had Yad Vashem as a reference for the Macedonian museal project, while it was also promoted in the 2000s as a “reconciliatory” project for the Macedonian society (Trajanovski 2020: 47–56; 2021), which we discuss in the next section. At this point, we want to single out the museal meaning-making technique of showcasing the totality or the continuum of the Macedonian revolutionary struggle which was further supplemented with personal and family memories and histories in the visitors’ books. It is crucial to be mentioned, however, that these evocations refer to various episodes of the past –such as the Ilinden Uprising period, refugees from the Greek Civil War, and the political dissidents and victims of the communist regime –even though the agendas, the goals and the ideologies of aforementioned episodes and agents were different and often radically opposed.24 The visitor comments that evoke personal and family memories and histories are not only ascribing an additional value to the Museum as a container
“Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary” 233 of the “true” history but also redefine the memory community of satisfied visitors on a daily basis via feeding the narrative with a divergent set of personal stories of victimhood, suffering, and heroism. Ultimately, the visitor books appeared to be the place of weaponizing these very histories of victimhood and heroism –or “victims and perpetrators” –both as exhibited and expressed by the visitors, as a discourse related to the present-day political and social struggles: Explosion of emotions! We really needed the museum, it shows me that the present is not much different from the past: heroes and traitors! (October 2011) The museum is wonderful. Those who criticized it much should go and publicly praise it (January 2012) When I am coming here tears are coming to my eyes and I am clenching my fists (August 2013) This feature of the Museum and the aftermaths of the Museum visits were recognized by the aforementioned Working Group which eventually suggested de- partisation of the permanent exhibition (Trajanovski 2020). Moreover, the reaction of the VMRO-DPMNE MP in light of the proposed changes is more than telling for our argument, as the original exhibition was defended as the very space of personal and family narratives in a parliamentary debate from July 2018: “sacred, important, significant, emotional thing for tens of thousands of families” and “our [VMRO-DPMNE] family histories”, further threatening that the Museum “will return as it was one day” and that all of the members of the Working Group that “dared to touch [the Museum] would be part of the exhibition one day” (Fokus 2018). The “dissatisfied” visitor
We already identified two types of negative and negotiative comments: technical and substantial. While the technical comments were mostly related to the practical aspects of the museal work and visits, the substantial ones were directed to the museal narrative. We noticed that the substantial comments were mostly longer than the technical ones, even being the longest, on average, of all the analyzed comments (such a comment of whole three pages from May 2012 was the longest comment we located). In general, the substantial comments were evoking historical, political, cultural, and museal themes and were related to two predominant aspects of Macedonian history: the interwar period and the Partisan struggle. As for the first point, few visitors reacted to the showcasing of the wax figure of Mara Buneva in 2011, while in 2012, the list of “unwanted” wax figures grew to include Vančo Mihajlov, Boris Sarafov, Todor Aleksandrov, and Ivan Garvanov – all of them affiliates of VMRO which were depicted as “symbolic pollution” of the leftist
234 Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska and progressive history in the post-WWII historiography and remained, to a large extend, perceived within these frames in the 1990s (Keith Brown in Trajanovski 2020a: 113). If the comments related to the above VMRO affiliates of conservative or pro- Bulgarian designation were mostly expressed with a negative tone, we noticed that the comments related to the “marginalization” of NOB in the Museum were largely negotiative: suggesting certain episodes and persons of the Partisan struggle as an addition to the permanent exhibition. We find this topic immensely interesting as it might be read as another insight into the understanding of national history by members of the memory community discussed above (that considers, for instance, NOB as a certain continuation of the 19th-century revolutionary struggle albeit the socialist agenda of its protagonists). On a different note, we noted very few constructive negotiative comments that actually highlight a particular artifact or suggest a better curatorial solution. We noted one such comment that pointed out the false depiction of the pistol used by Vlado Černozemski (from 2012) and another one that emphasized several factual and grammatical mistakes in the descriptive plaques of the permanent exhibition (from 2013). Finally, we noted a tendency of invoking negative feelings towards neighbouring states and minority groups, as several negotiative comments towards the museal narration suggested the management inclusion of the 2001 Macedonian conflict and the post-Yugoslav transition in the permanent exhibition – perceived as the newest episodes of the Macedonian suffering –as well as a better depiction of the Bulgarian occupation of Macedonia during the WWII. These types of comments, again, were not prevailing among the negative ones. However, it is very plausible that the rationale behind those comments resonates with the notion of memory community which we already discussed. As for the 2001 conflict – which was a seven-month-long conflict between the ethnic Albanian insurgents and the state security forces –it is important to be mentioned that there are still two prevailing modes of commemorating it, which “match the domains of the two largest ethnic communities in the state, the Macedonian and the Albanian” (Trajanovski 2022: 5). Moreover, in 2022, Gruevski, now a political refugee in Budapest, wrote a Facebook post in which he defended the Museum project from the accusations of being the first object that showcased the figure of Vančo Mihajlov in a Macedonian museum. Mihajlov is certainly among the most infamous figures from the Macedonian 20th century, the last leader of VMRO in the interwar period, and a Nazi collaborator who argued against a Macedonian identity and ethnicity. In his longer elaboration, Gruevski claimed that the Museum does not attempt to interpret the history and showcases both the heroes and the anti-heroes from a given historical period. The post came after the establishment of the Bulgarian cultural club “Vančo Mihajlov” in Bitola, North Macedonia, earlier that month, which provoked massive criticism among the Macedonian public. What we found striking, though, were the comments on the Facebook post of Gruevski: in general, they were affirmative of Gruevski’s explanation and immensely similar to the comments in the visitors’ books that we analyzed.
“Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary” 235 Concluding remarks The analysis of the 304 visitor comments can be summed up in several concluding remarks. Firstly, we found that the affective reactions were the most prominent among the visitors to the Museum. Even though we did not venture into deciphering the affective reactions, we did, however, postulate that the strong affective reactions stemming from the Museum visits were –and might still be – provoked both by the museal arrangements and the entry narratives of the visitors. Here, we want to remind the reader of the vast number of comments that depict the museal exhibition as an authentic experience: we view this authenticity as a mediated construct, a meeting point between expectations and reality (Schilling in Pastor 2022). Secondly, we argued that this understanding of authenticity allows for an instrumental reading of the museal narrative; one that facilitates the creation-and scapegoating of the ethnic, national, or partisan others. In this context, we argued that the whole museal experience – from the first section of the exhibition to the visitor books –enabled a nurturing of a specific community of citizens that would be constantly reminded of the horrors of the Macedonians in the history, thus formatting a victim-centred discourse that portrays the ethnic Macedonians as the only ethnic group in the state and the region that holds a moral right of subscribing to such a position. The creators of the Museum thus, consciously or not, delivered a tense museal space, one that overlooks the contingencies of the past and the complexities of social, economic, and political factors. Instead, the exhibition in the given time period was by and large weaponizing its rudimentary representation of the history of the Macedonian struggle for independence as a subversive narrative that was not allowed or hidden from the Macedonians. Thirdly, we argued that the Museum was mostly provoking national pride among the visitors and, as of 2012, references to the political party that established it. The visitor books, in these regards, can be viewed both as sites where the diachrony of inscriptions of these affective reactions are placed but also as the very tools for performing these very identity-and community-building functions. The study of the visitors’ books has its own limitations. We did not take a closer look at the in-text dialogues in the books by the authors of the comments. Moreover, we want to hint at the fact that the dark museal atmosphere and, especially, the museal presentation of Macedonian socialism mobilized another set of reactions that are not necessarily located in the visitor books; yet, are important for the general reception of the Museum in the given time period, as well as the developments after 2014. Namely, the visitor books were argued to be a suggestive source for observing the mechanisms of visitors’ reception of the museal institution, but not the most common format for articulating informed criticism of the museal project, even so much of the comments actually point out the shock and surprise of the visitors after the tour. As we were only reading the visitors’ comments and not conducting interviews with the visitors, we were unable to verify the claim that the visitor books’ comments are not a representative sample for grasping the general visitors’ reception of the Museum. Hence, we consider the radical gap between the positive and negative stances in the books as yet another potentially telling entry
236 Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska point for another, more interactive research. As a final remark in these regards, we can suggest that a critical study of the critical discourses of the Museum project beyond the visitor books –for instance, blogs, media articles, and panel discussions –can be of great importance for the study of the museal developments and memory politics in post-2001 Republic of Macedonia. Notes 1 We would like to thank the current director Daniela Nikolova and all the other staff at the Museum for the help during our work on the visitor books; Petar Todorov, for helping out with the comments in Turkish and French; and Prof. Gordon Fyfe, Borjan Gjuzelov, Žarko Trajanoski, and Ivan Nikolovski for reading and commenting the first draft of the text. Notwithstanding, all the shortcomings in the text are our responsibility. 2 The state name as well as the ethnic and national adjectives are brought in accordance with the 2018 Greco-Macedonian agreement. All the in-text translations from Macedonian into English are done by the authors if not otherwise stated. 3 VMRO-DPMNE stands for Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization-Democratic Party for Macedonian National Unity [mk. Vnatrešna makedonska revolucionerna organizacija-Demokratska partija za makedonsko nacionalno edinstvo], a right-wing political party established in 1990 that was leading the governmental coalitions in the state in two separate periods: from 1998 to 2002 and from 2006 to 2016–2017. 4 Shortly after the inauguration, the management issued a statement encouraging the potential visitors to announce their visits prior to their arrival at the Museum due to the large interest. 5 The rationale for this decision being, according to Zoran Todorovski – a historian, one of the co-curators of the permanent exhibition and a co-author of the Museum’s monograph –the proliferation of Macedonian museums dedicated to ASNOM [mk. Antifašističko sobranie za narodno osloboduvanje na Makedonija; Anti-fascist Assembly for the National Liberation of Macedonia]; the provisional legislative and executive body set by the Macedonian Partisans in August 1944 that translated into the first post- war Macedonian parliament (Trajanovski 2021: 150–151). In the end, the exhibition showcased NOB and ASNOM in a separate “thematic” section, one of the twelve constituting the exhibition, where it was claimed that the Partisan struggle led to “a partial realization of the Macedonian question and VMRO’s ideals for freedom and statehood” (Todorovski and Ačkoska 2012, 259); a formulation which is an apparent departure from the socialist Macedonian historiography. 6 Established in Salonika as MRO [mk. Makedonska revolucionerna organizacija; Macedonian Revolutionary Organization] in October 1893, it mobilized the Macedonian intelligentsia, opted for an armed struggle against the Ottoman rule, and political autonomy for the Macedonian lands. Without the Ottomans as the revolutionary raison d’être, the Organization –VMRO in the interwar years –was, arguably enough, subjected to the interests of the Bulgarian elites, although several organizations with different political credos claimed legacy of the pre-WWI revolutionary organization. 7 In 2014, the government sought to supplement the permanent exhibition with a segment that showcases the “horrors that our ancestors went through” (Gruevski in Vlada 2014). Although this part of the exhibition was announced by the then PM and some of the scenes were completed –including scenes of torturing and several torture devices in the exhibition space of approx. Three hundred square meters –it never got opened to the public due to various reasons including the negative public reactions.
“Beautiful!!! And a Bit Scary” 237 8 The political agenda of the second VMRO-DPMNE government was argued to be one of a “mnemonic warrior” as per Kubik and Bernhard’s typology (in Trajanovski 2020b, for a similar take on museum politics in the recent Polish and Hungarian context, see: Radonić 2020). 9 The MA thesis of Konstantin (2016) is one relatively recent attempt to grasp the visitor experiences in the city museum of Bitola via surveying approximately 100 visitors. We also want to stress the exclusiveness of researched materials as we were the first researchers which were granted access to the visitors’ books in the entire history of the functioning of the Museum. 10 In January 2012, the so-called “Porta Macedonia” [mk. Porta Makedonija] –a new memorial object at the “Macedonia” square with approximately 200 square meters of commercial space and space for exhibitions –was added to the Museum’s jurisdiction. In 2013, the building of the Museum, alongside “Porta Macedonia” and the new Memorial House of Mother Teresa in Skopje (inaugurated in 2009), were promoted to cultural heritage objects. 11 The Museum management was not looking for future employees at the alumni pool of students from the Institute of Ethnology and Anthropology in Skopje which was the only academic institution that provided courses and training in curatorship and museology at that point (and the positions at state museums were the usual career paths of its graduates). Possible rationale for these dynamics can be the professional affiliations of the authors of the museal concept who work/ed at the Institute of History at the Faculty of Philosophy in Skopje and the Institute of National History-Skopje, as well as the very fact that the Museum dealt, almost exclusively, with the political history of the 19th and 20th centuries. 12 Most recently, these developments are viewed as a case for the “patronage-driven, pro- VMRO-DPMNE construction across the capital, exemplifying the important role that nepotism plays in empowering competitive authoritarian regimes” (Harris-Brandts 2022: 159; see, as well: Holleran and Mattioli 2020). 13 The “utterances” being the dialogical expressions that are coming from particular discursive context and are addressed to someone (Noy 2008b); we also find another definition of Chaim Noy as handy: he views the visitor books as “onsite institutional media which serve to elicit, record, and publicly display audiences’ texts” (Noy 2021: 40). 14 The study field has a longer history: Scheile traces its foundation back to the early 20th- century (more in Scheile 2016; also see Davidson 2015; Pastor and Kent 2020). Other authors link the “visitor turn” in museum studies to the “new museology” movement (Hooper-Greenhill 2006) and the museum professionals’ discovery of quantitative methods and psychological survey tools in the 1980s (Bicknell and Farmelo 1993). 15 In her classic take, Sharon Macdonald sees visitor books as extensions of the active meaning- making of the museum experience (an integral part of the visit), as often those comments are inscribed in dialogue with the other inscriptions in the visitor book (2005). Another set of recent studies approaches visitors’ comments in a similar light (see, for instance, Noy 2008a; 2008b; 2021; Stamou and Paraskevopoulos 2008; Chen 2012; Ross 2017; Magliacani, Madeo, and Cercheiello 2018; Weise-Pötschke 2021; Bogumił 2022; Pozzi 2023). 16 Boyd and Hughes, here, for instance, observe that the visitors are coming to the museums “equipped” with “entrance narratives” –or their existing knowledge of historical events and periods –and oftentimes they do not want their knowledge challenged at the museum, but their “sense of self, views, and opinions validated” (2020: 13). In a similar vein, Smith considers museum as sites where people “wither consciously or unconsciously” seek to have their views, sense of self, and social or cultural belonging reinforced (2015).
238 Naum Trajanovski and Ivana Hadjievska 17 Several other relevant events occurred during this time period of almost two and a half years: inter alia, in December 2011, the Macedonian media reported that the Museum would be supplemented with additional 43 wax figures; while on 23 October 2012, the newly established national holiday of the Day of VMRO, the erstwhile President, PM, Speaker of the parliament, many Ministers, MPs and other high guests attended the promotion of the Museum’s monograph in the Museum. 18 Besides the limited scope of analysis regarding the ethnic and national affiliations of the visitors, we also want to highlight another limitation of this model: we were not always able to identify the gender of the visitors as we only had their signatures as hints. 19 On the various relations between museums and communities, see Karp (1992). 20 See Wójcik and Lewicka (2022) for the typology of the lay theories of history that we used. 21 A large part of the artworks was commissioned from the Russian Ministry of Defense’s “Grekov” studio, famous for its authors’ realist- and “war style” and the majority of Soviet memorial projects related to WWII it produced (more in Gabowitsch, 2018). 22 Although the Museum dealt with the Greco-Macedonian historical encounters only sporadically, it is worth mentioning that, architecturally, the Museum’s building in Skopje resonates to one of the “Museum of the Macedonian Struggle” in Salonika, Greece; hosting the museum established in 1979 (more in Trajanovski 2020: 120). 23 It is also important to be mentioned that the Museum was opened on the state holiday of 11 October, while it also served as the main commemorative site for the other state holidays: such as, for instance, the Day of the Macedonian revolutionary struggle (known, as well, as the Day of VMRO), established by the VMRO-DPMNE government in 2007. In this way, the Museum assumed the role of a “commemorative museum” where national and patriotic sentiments are being constantly mobilized via various commemorative events (for Israeli and United States examples, see: Noy 2021). 24 As an illustration for such a comment, we can present the following one: “Bravo, we are proud of the history, of the struggle which is still ongoing, big thank you. In the name of our father who was in the prison of Idrizovo” (December 2011).
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13 From “Air War” to “Partnership for Peace” NATO’s Relations with Serbia from the Left Perspective Goran Marković and Ivica Mladenović Introduction In 1999, when NATO bombed the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro), this military alliance was joined by the former Warsaw Pact countries: Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic. An act that, despite the generally good relations between the administration of Boris Yeltsin and that of Bill Clinton, had caused considerable tension between the West and Russia, while at the end of the Cold War, although informally, the United States had promised that there would be no expansion of this Western military alliance, which since 1952 had also included Turkey (Giegerich 2012; Freedman 2010). Referring to the historical experience of Napoleon’s and Hitler’s attempts to occupy its territory, Moscow, no matter who its leaders were, pursued its traditional policy of creating a buffer zone between Russia and the West. This eastward expansion of NATO, along with the attack on FR Yugoslavia in 1999, is a turning point in relations between the West and Russia. Not only does Moscow strongly condemn NATO’s intervention against a sovereign state, withdrawing its representative in Brussels and refusing to ratify the START nuclear arms reduction treaty, but it has also claimed that the war against Yugoslavia was the beginning of a new Cold War, that Yugoslavia has been punished for refusing to join NATO, and that this attack will be followed by a NATO attack on Russia (Vickers 2008: 16–18) A few years later, in 2004, with the accession of Bulgaria, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Romania, Slovenia, and Slovakia, NATO’s eastward expansion included not only the former Warsaw Pact countries but also the states of the former Yugoslavia and the USSR. Finally, with the joining of Albania and Croatia in 2009 (Čehulić-Vukadinović 2012), and Montenegro in 2017, as well as the de facto joining of Ukraine in the integration process in 2014 (Čehulić-Vukadinović 2015; Eichler 2021), it seems that the geopolitical difficulties between the two most powerful nuclear forces in the world, the United States and Russia, have reached a peak and, with Russia’s occupation of Ukrainian territory in 2022, have brought the world to the threshold of a world war. After Donald Trump made the official change in the national defence strategy of the United States, in which China and Russia are officially designated as the main adversaries, every expansion of NATO DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-18
244 Goran Marković and Ivica Mladenović to Moscow and Beijing is considered a hostile act, and the authoritarian regime in Moscow, even as a strategic “encirclement” of Russia. In such a context, since North Macedonia entered the NATO alliance in April 2020 as the thirtieth member, the geostrategic positioning of the Balkans seems to have been affirmed. Although Bosnia and Herzegovina and Kosovo –which, as an independent state, is not recognized by four NATO members –are still not officially part of this military alliance, the presence of NATO troops on their territory and the inclusion of their military forces in the integration processes of this alliance, clearly show that they are essentially a part of it (Hasanović 2021). Nevertheless, only one country in this region has officially advocated military neutrality, and therefore represents the “non-integrated territory”. This is Serbia. Although NATO officials do not miss an opportunity to emphasize that they understand Serbia’s position, the pressures on this country, which is one of the main (potential) factors of (in)stability in the Balkans, of integration into a single European security architecture, are constantly on the table. It seems that these constraints are stronger in the context of the enlargement project to the East, and especially after this new war taking place in Europe. Once Sweden and Finland – which have a long history of status between military nonalignment and integration (Etzold and Opitz 2015) – joined NATO, the next country to join this military alliance could have been Serbia. However, given the extreme unpopularity of NATO in Serbia, i.e. the fact that all public opinion studies in recent years consistently show that more than two-third of Serbian citizens are against a possible membership of Serbia in the military alliance, it seems unlikely that the Serbian political elite, regardless of their political background, would dare to raise this issue publicly. Generally speaking, the question of whether Serbia should join NATO has been an important political issue ever since the October 2000 change of the political regime. Although some political parties have advocated joining NATO even before 2000, the particular international and regional position of Serbia excluded any possibility of serious consideration of the problem. Therefore, most parties, including all the relevant ones, have not openly advocated joining NATO after 2000. Some political parties in the 1990s advocated that the process of so-called transition meant both the entrance of the Republic of Serbia to EU and NATO (usually called “Euro-Atlantic Integrations”). These parties belonged to the liberal political spectrum and were in constant opposition to the regime. The regime, on the other side, had quite pragmatic reasons why it opposed joining NATO. Its arguments were not ideological, in the strict sense of the word, and had nothing to do with political principles, but rather focused on a positioning linked to concrete events and situational factors. The aim of this work is to explain the development of the dilemma of Serbia’s entry in NATO as well as to present alternative reasons, not usually heard or read, why Serbia should not join NATO. We shall analyze political statements of political institutions of the Republic of Serbia as well as those of political parties, but also, we shall include independent left opinions of activists and intellectuals.
From “Air War” to “Partnership for Peace” 245 Serbia and NATO in the 1990s Discussion on NATO could not be the same in Serbia and in other countries since Serbia had been included in civil wars in Yugoslavia giving all kind of support to the Serbs whose army in Bosnia and Herzegovina was in direct or indirect conflict with NATO (Kamp 1999; Daalder and O’Halon 2000). Moreover, the 1999 aggression of NATO on the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia ended any discussion on the issues at least as long as the Milošević’s regime was still in power. Apart from reasons which were in connection with the issue of dissolution of Yugoslavia, the Socialist Party of Serbia (SPS), the ruling party in the 1990s, did not have major reasons to be against joining NATO. Namely, it did not have ideological reasons to advocate for the nonjoining political option. Despite the widely accepted opinion that SPS had been a slightly reformed or even unreformed communist party, it really did not have anything in common with the previously existing League of Communists of Serbia, whose legal successor it became. It is quite obvious that a legal successor does not necessarily have to be a political successor. This was also the case with SPS. It was a new party in the sense that its creation was the result of the unification of the League of Communists of Serbia and the Socialist Alliance of the Working People of Serbia, in July 1990, although SPS formally adopted a nationalist version of the social democratic ideology of the so-called democratic socialism (Mladenović 2014). Since SPS decided to turn its back to Yugoslav socialism and its “Bolshevik origins”, it had full freedom to rewrite its ideology and political programme. It was quite expected that its foreign policy would turn to the West as its political programme did. However, the positioning of Milošević’s regime at the beginning of the last phase of the Yugoslav crisis fundamentally influenced the possibility of its cooperation with NATO. The main world powers, which were all, apart from Russia and China, members of NATO, had different plans for vanishing Yugoslavia. They supported those sides in the Yugoslav civil war which fought against Serbian forces (forces of the Serbs in Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, strongly supported by the SPS regime in Serbia). At the same time, NATO member states strongly disagreed with Milošević’s regime’s policies on Kosovo. Therefore, Milošević’s regime did not really have a choice. If it wanted to continue with its policies, it had to clash with NATO, both militarily and politically. Joining NATO, therefore, was out of the question. The position of the opposition had also been ambiguous. Those had an anticommunist and liberal ideology advocated for a faster approach to Western Europe and therefore they could also advocate pro-joining NATO, particularly since NATO states saw the Serbian regime as an unreformed communist regime, and soon also as a regime which was the main culprit for the war to come. Therefore, the pro-NATO stance of the opposition could get them powerful allies abroad. On the other hand, the fact that the main NATO states openly sided with those in the Yugoslav crisis who had been described as the Serb enemies, could be used by the Serbian regime to label these opposition parties as “traitors” and “foreign spies”.
246 Goran Marković and Ivica Mladenović The outbreak of the civil war in Yugoslavia postponed any discussion about the possibility of joining NATO in the immediate future since the Republic of Serbia clearly supported the ruling party which had been marked by NATO as the only guilty side in the war, while Serbia’s regime had been marked as their influencers, co-conspirators. If some political parties advocated joining NATO as their principal political aim, it had been in the context of the struggle of those parties against the regime of the SPS, which meant that those parties advocated joining NATO as a part of the wider concept of the normalization of relations with the West, the “abolition of communism” and the “introduction of a system based on market economy, private property, and a parliamentary system”. These parties, supporting war efforts of the Serbs in Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, first had to convince citizens that the SPS regime was to blame for the negative geopolitical position of the Republic of Serbia, then they had to convince the citizens that this position had to be changed through establishing cooperative relations with Western states, and after that they could try to convince citizens that NATO itself had not been an obstacle for the fulfilment of the goal of Euro-Atlantic integrations. The 1999 aggression of NATO states on the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia strengthened the regime’s negative discourse against NATO. The liberal opposition could not at that time advocate for joining NATO, although it seemed that indirectly it did it, in the sense that it tried to blame the regime and its policies in Kosovo as a main cause of the aggression. This short résumé shows that political actors in the 1990s Serbia had a partly situational approach toward the issue of joining NATO. They could not have and should not have avoided to connect the issue with the problem of civil war in Yugoslavia and particularly with the issue of the NATO aggression on Yugoslavia in 1999. In fact, the ruling parties did this, while some opposition parties claimed that joining NATO went hand in hand with the accession to the EU, and that recent experiences with NATO and its member-states had to be analyzed also through the strategic mistakes of the regime. Therefore, the regime had at least partially been responsible for the behaviour of NATO and its member-states during the 1990s events. We can see that the political parties in Serbia did not evaluate the issue of joining NATO with regards to the very nature and aims of this organization but solely based on Serbia’s recent experiences with it, or taking into account the fact that the member-states of the EU as a rule, although not necessarily, we’re also members of NATO. Somehow, for the opposition parties, membership in NATO became a desirable part of the process of aligning with the Western powers regardless of past experiences. If Serbia wanted to become a part of the “Western family”, it had to erase its memory, such was the implicit message of these political parties. The imperialist nature of NATO, the justification of its military interventions, and the fact that it protected existing social order were not of importance for the Serbian political parties. None of them wanted to question the social order which has been militarily protected by NATO since these very parties advocated the introduction of the same social order in Serbia. These parties were not interested
From “Air War” to “Partnership for Peace” 247 in questioning the nature of military interventions of NATO since they were not interested in questioning global order whose indispensable part these military interventions were. In other words, the global social and political order advocated by NATO was perfectly compatible with the political vision of Serbian political parties. The main challenge was therefore to find, with the utmost caution, modalities of integration into this system, while justifying to the citizens, in a context hostile to NATO, that this did not constitute a betrayal of national interests. Serbia and NATO in the 2000s The regime change in 2000 also meant a partial change of paradigm on NATO. Nonetheless, the main opposition parties, SPS and the Serb Radical Party (SRS), which previously were governing parties, did not change their position on NATO. Moreover, the fact that the governments of the main member-states of NATO insisted on the cooperation of the Serbian government with the Hague Tribunal, added an additional argument against joining NATO. Another opposition party, which after the regime change became politically irrelevant, the Serb Renewal Movement (SPO), advocated joining NATO, but this fact was really insignificant due to the new balance of powers of the main political parties. The New ruling power coalition –the Democratic Opposition of Serbia (DOS) – had been very heterogeneous, with the two main parties (the Democratic Party – DS, and the Democratic Party of Serbia –DSS) having different political programs and political strategies. While the former had a liberal political orientation and a quite pragmatic approach, the latter has had conservative, centre-right political orientation, and nonpragmatic approach. For the latter, approaching NATO was out of the question, while the former understood this issue as a part of the efforts for approaching the EU, although not necessarily connected with the issue of joining the EU. The balance of powers in the ruling coalition excluded the possibility of joining NATO or even of discussing the conditions for joining. Even the idea of joining the EU quickly was not to be pushed easily. On the other hand, pressures from the EU and the USA on the new government to start cooperation with the Hague Tribunal additionally prevented the realization of plans for joining NATO. The Democratic Party of Serbia explicitly excluded the possibility of joining NATO for three reasons: 1) NATO’s role during the war in Croatia and particularly Bosnia and Herzegovina; 2) NATO’s aggression on the FR of Yugoslavia; and 3) the pressure on the Serbian government to cooperate with the Hague Tribunal. Even the Democratic Party, as a centrist and pragmatic part of the coalition, while advocating for Euro-Atlantic integration, hesitated to openly make this decision. More than 70% of the population was against joining NATO, while only around 10% were in favour of it. Therefore, the regime decided to take the middle position. It decided to join the Partnership for Peace (PfP) program in December 2006, which is NATO-sponsored, and to open a mission in the NATO headquarters in Brussels in September 2010. The so-called Ahtisaari Plan for Kosovo was not acceptable for Serbia and it additionally worsened relations with NATO since
248 Goran Marković and Ivica Mladenović it was assumed that NATO would establish its eventual control over Kosovo (Sperling and Webber 2009). In 2007, the National Assembly of the Republic of Serbia voted the Resolution on the Protection of Sovereignty, Territorial Integrity and Constitutional Order of the Republic of Serbia. This political document proclaimed the military neutrality of the Republic of Serbia unless the citizens decided differently in a referendum (Lekić 2017; Gordić and Petrović 2019). However, the document had not clearly defined the military and security strategies of the Republic of Serbia. On the other hand, the Governments during the first half of the 2000s insisted on military cooperation in the region. Most states in the regions had already become members of NATO which meant that military cooperation with them indirectly meant military cooperation with NATO. Serbian political elites could thus claim that they chose to cooperate with other states in the region to the degree in which it was acceptable to all of them. The National Assembly of the Republic of Serbia adopted in 2009 The Law on the Participation of Serbian Military and Other Defence Forces in Multinational Operations Outside Serbian Borders. An important feature of this law was that it entailed a restriction considering the participation of the Serbian Military in operations which were not under the UN mandate. Previous law prescribed such a restriction. The fact that the restriction had been removed from the 2009 Law, meant that the authorities wanted to send the message that they were ready to send troops of the Serbian Army even in the missions which would not be approved by the UN. It seemed to be a considerable step toward NATO since the Law enabled the participation of the Serbian Army even in the missions under the NATO flag. The first decade of the 2000s also saw the intention of the Serbian Army to principally accept the concept of military reform in accordance with NATO military standards. At the same time, the Serbian political elite claimed that NATO presence in Kosovo in the form of KFOR was a positive step in the direction of protection of the Serb population. The politics of military neutrality continued after the 2021 regime change (Veličkovski 2017; Vrčar and Ćurčić 2022). The ruling party openly declared its commitment to this stance, and claimed that Serbia under its rule would not join NATO. Despite this formal commitment, however, cooperation with NATO is developed. In the period between 2012 and 2017, Serbia had 44 joint military exercises with NATO and only six with Russia (Janjić 2017). It is evident that the regime, despite claims on military neutrality, gave top priority to the cooperation with NATO. The regime could still claim that the fact that Serbia has not yet become a member of NATO has more than a merely symbolic importance. Namely, if it is not a member, Serbia does not have the legal and political obligation to participate in NATO military operations, and there it retains the freedom to choose its own foreign policy path. This argument could be questioned for several reasons. First, the Serbian political elites have already defined military cooperation with NATO as their strategic aim. To what extent this cooperation would go is a question of the strategic decision
From “Air War” to “Partnership for Peace” 249 in each particular case. Second, this is the case because the Serbian parliament has already enabled the law which paved the way for participation of the Serbian Army in NATO military operations. Third, since the strategic aim of the Serbian political elites is to access the EU, it would be highly probable for any regime with this orientation to stay away from all NATO military operations since cooperation with the EU indirectly means cooperation with NATO. It is quite enough that the Serbian political elites have left the door open for possible participation in NATO military operations through the 2009 law. For example, after 2003 there was talk about sending the Serbian troops in the ISAF mission to Afghanistan. The idea of military neutrality The idea of military neutrality is a very old idea that takes many forms, and is motivated by many reasons (Jončić 2022; Müller 2019). In Serbia, it has two main sources (Gordić and Petrović 2019; Lekić 2017; Stojanović and Šaranović 2022; Vrčar and Ćurčić 2022). The first one traces back to the 1990s and the wars in Yugoslavia, both the NATO intervention in 1995 in Bosnia and Herzegovina and the NATO aggression on the FR of Yugoslavia. Since the majority of citizens think that the aggression was unjustified and against the UN principles, it would be very hard to openly advocate for joining NATO. As we mentioned previously, public opinion is against this option. Some political parties would never accept the idea of joining NATO, particularly for these negative historical experiences, while others could try to convince citizens that past experiences should not be a barrier to future strategic foreign policy orientation. The second source of the idea of military neutrality is based on the wider foreign policy orientation of subsequent Serbian governments. Although the accession to the EU has been one of the primary goals of every government since 2000 (with the possible exception of the governments led by the DSS), good relations with the Russian Federation remained one of the strategic goals as well. This was not as important to the DS-led governments as it was the case with the DSS-led and the Serbian Progressive Party (SNS)-led governments. The fact that Russia is one of the few great powers which consistently advocated against the recognition of Kosovo as an independent state, it is of strategic importance for every Serbian government to have good relations with Russia. If political elites want to establish and keep good political, economic, and military relations with the Russian Federation, they are obligated to advocate for the policy of staying out of NATO. For Russia, it is of considerable importance to prevent the broadening of NATO into new states. Therefore, Serbia is its potential strategic geopolitical partner. On the other hand, the membership in the Partnership for Peace as well as the possibility of participation in joint military operations with NATO enables political elites in Serbia to have relatively wide cooperation with NATO. Russia could hope, of course, that this cooperation would not mean the participation of Serbia in any actions against Russia and that it would not lead to participation in unilateral military operations of NATO (i.e. operations without the sanction of the UN Council of Security). If Serbia does not join NATO, there is at
250 Goran Marković and Ivica Mladenović least hope that its political elites would behave in accordance with the political and economic interests of Russia. If Serbia joins NATO, this hope completely vanishes. As we have seen, Serbia’s military neutrality is only a halfway neutrality. It is a neutrality only in the sense that Serbia is officially outside of NATO. Whether staying out of NATO would mean the absence from military operations under NATO’s umbrella, is a question that depends on the interests and attitudes of the political elites, and it is not possible to answer it in advance regardless of concrete circumstances. Real military neutrality would thus mean that there is no military and political cooperation with NATO, that the reforms are not done in accordance with NATO principles, and that there is no possibility for participation in military operations sanctioned by the UN Security Council. The political elites in Serbia are obviously not ready for this kind of military neutrality for it would mean that they would have to clearly move away from cooperation with NATO. Full-scale military neutrality would also mean that Serbia does not exercise cooperation with NATO, does not participate in the PfP, does not participate in NATO military operations, and does not participate in NATO political structures. It is obvious that the Serbian political elites are not ready for this kind of military neutrality. Full-scale military neutrality would mean not only military distance from NATO but also political distance from the states which are NATO members. It is unacceptable for all political elites in Serbia since they do not want to limit their cooperation with NATO state members. They want Serbia’s cooperation with the most powerful capitalist states and the preservation of its status as a part of the worldwide capitalist system of states. Severing ties with NATO would not be wise if these aims are to be fulfilled, that is what the political elites think. Defining the very nature of NATO Two official basic arguments against joining NATO are the following: the need for cordial political relations with the Russian Federation, and the need to have open space for the struggle against the idea of an independent Kosovo since NATO states have recognized Kosovo as an independent state. These two reasons are relevant if our starting point is the raison d’Etat. If Serbia’s official policy is to fight for its territorial integrity, it can’t become a member of a political-military alliance which considerably contributed to the present situation in and around Kosovo. To become a member of NATO would thus mean to accept that Kosovo is an independent state. On the other hand, if Serbia wants to have an ally which would support its interests, such as the case with Russia, it could not at the same time join NATO since Russia’s strategic interest is to prevent NATO’s spreading further to the East. However, Serbian political elites have not questioned joining NATO for its very nature. The fact that NATO military operations could be and in fact have been illegitimate from the point of view of international law as well as basic political principles (democracy, popular sovereignty, states’ independence, etc.) has never been questioned by mainstream Serbian politicians. They have also never
From “Air War” to “Partnership for Peace” 251 questioned the necessity for the very existence of NATO in present global political circumstances since there is no other political-military organization besides NATO. NATO serves to protect some socio-economic and political values (Freedman 2010; Kamp 1999; Pavić 1968; Serfaty 2008). These are the values of the existing social order. Ruling political elites, including those in Serbia, claim that these are liberal democratic values (democracy, liberty, equality, etc.). Since the Serbian political elites adopt the same socio-political values, there is no reason for them to question NATO from an ideological–political standpoint. Even more, approaching and eventually joining NATO would be in the interest of the Serbian political elites since the protection by NATO would in fact mean the protection of the values of the existing social order in Serbia. This kind of thinking of the Serbian political elite as well as of NATO structures exposes their profound undemocratic nature. It implicitly excludes any possibility of social and political changes which could happen in the case of the electoral victory of the radical political alternative, such as, for example, the socialist alternative. As long as the political parties which accept the existing social order rotate in power, there is no problem. However, if the question of radical social changes would be posed, then the cooperation with NATO would become very useful for the Serbian political elites. It should be clear that the desire of the Serbian political elites that Serbia becomes a part of the global capitalist order is compatible with the cooperation with NATO or even, although not necessarily, with joining it. As an army is an apparatus of coercion in a state, protecting the existing social order, NATO is the apparatus of coercion in service of the global coalition of the capitalist states. Therefore, joining NATO or even establishing a developed cooperation with it means the acceptance of that global order and practical impossibility of its radical reform let alone complete abolition. The Serbian political elites also do not examine the cooperation or joining of NATO in regards to the issue of the security of the Republic of Serbia and its citizens. It is true that all the neighbouring countries, except Bosnia and Herzegovina, are NATO members. This does not mean much for the security of the Republic of Serbia since it has relatively stable relations with these countries without any possibility of declaring war on any of them. Therefore, NATO’s role is not necessarily or at all, for the protection of the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the Republic of Serbia. On the contrary, the self-proclaimed struggle for the preservation of the territorial integrity (regarding Kosovo) is totally opposite to the idea of eventually joining NATO. On the other hand, cooperation with and joining NATO could mean or would mean the obligation to participate in NATO military operations which could be illegitimate according to standards of international law. This could have two negative consequences. The first one could be a damage caused to the efforts of the Republic of Serbia to preserve its territorial integrity since it could not at the same time claim to have the right to protect its territorial integrity according to the international law, and to participate in NATO military interventions which could be seen as illegitimate by standards of the same international law.
252 Goran Marković and Ivica Mladenović The second negative consequence has to do with the security of the Republic of Serbia and its citizens from external threats, i.e. terrorist attacks. If the Serbian Military would participate in the military operations of NATO, either as a member state or only as a partner, terrorist organizations would decide to find targets in Serbia among the citizens and civilian or military objects. There is no legitimate reason why the Serbian political elites would join NATO in any military operation thus opening the way to terrorist organizations for possible revenge on its citizens who, do not have the slightest possibility to decide on such political and military adventures. Another issue that is directly connected with the problem of joining NATO, namely its economic (dis)advantages. The economic argument of those who advocate for joining is that Serbia would get the right to sell commodities to NATO, and that it would use these advantages of the common market, and would get money from its common funds (Živulović 2010). This argument could likely be acceptable and true. However, there is no proof that it would be fulfilled any time soon. Serbia could use (if it is able to use, of course) the advantages of the common market even if it is not a member of NATO by becoming a member of the European Union. If Serbia’s economy were to become strong and competitive enough, it could profit from the participation in the common market under the umbrella of the EU. However, since it is not and will not be the case, the participation of the Serbian economy in the common market (at the level of the EU or of NATO member-states) as a semi-peripheral economy could not mean the fundamental advancement of the economy and its competitiveness. This has nothing to do with membership in NATO but with the fact that the Serbian economy has and will continue to have a semi-peripheral role and place in the global capitalist economic order, and that this would not change even if Serbia would join NATO. On the contrary, one of the aims of NATO is to protect this type of global economic order. Nonetheless, the argument that Serbia would receive financial resources from NATO’s common funds is well founded. On the other hand, it would lose some financial resources as well. For example, it would be obliged to buy weapons according to NATO standards. In 2006, NATO member-states agreed to spend at least 2% of their GDP on defence. According to 2014 data, this means that Serbia would have to increase its budgetary spending for defence by 350 million US dollars per year. This was also the case with other new NATO member-states. Hungary, for example, had to increase its spending on military from 1.26% to 2 % of GDP after joining NATO (Rabai 2015). It is obvious that a poor economy, such as the Serbian one, would have to increase its military spending in order to follow the plans and directives of NATO, although it could use its military only for the purposes approved by NATO and in the framework of NATO. All these arguments on the nature of NATO have always been totally absent from the discourse of the Serbian political elites, either those before or those after the 1990s. Their ideological positions as well as their political strategies disabled them from analyzing the very nature of NATO which would not ever change. Moreover, the Serbian political elites understood that Serbia’s position as a capitalist semi-peripheral society perfectly fits into their vision of the desired social
From “Air War” to “Partnership for Peace” 253 order. Therefore, these elites have no interest in analyzing the issue of NATO membership by taking its nature and objectives as the starting point of the analysis. References Čehulić-Vukadinović, L 2012, “Western Balkans Accession to NATO and EU, Research Paper”, Human Rights Conflict Prevention Centre, vol. XII, no. 1–2, pp. 1295–1308. Čehulić-Vukadinović, L 2015, “NATO i Ruska Federacija: od pokušaja funkcionalne suradnje do novih tenzija”, Politička misao, vol. 52, no. 2, pp. 181–205. Daalder, I & O’Halon, M 2000, Winning Ugly – NATO’s War to Save Kosovo, Washington DC, Brookings University Press. Eichler, J. 2021, NATO’s Expansion After the Cold War Geopolitics and Impacts for International Security, Springer. Etzold, T & Opitz, C 2015, “Between Military Non-Alignment and Integration, Finland and Sweden in Search of a New Security Strategy”, Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik, German Institute for International and Security Affairs (online: https://nbn-resolving.org/ urn:nbn:de:0168-ssoar-431317.) Freedman, L 2010, NATO in Search of a Vision, Gülnur Aybet & Rebecca R. Moore, Georgetown University Press. Giegerich, B 2012. “NATO’s Smart Defence Agenda: From Concepts to Implementation”, In: Arcard, R & Lucarelli, S (eds.), Dynamic Change, Rethinking NATO’s Capabilities, Operations and Partnerships, University of Bologna, Bologna, pp. 18–29. Gordić, M & Petrović, I 2019, “Model vojne neutralnosti kao razvojna perspektiva Republike Srbije”, Baština, no. 47, pp. 117–134. Hasanović, J 2021. “Mirroring Europeanization: Balkanization and Auto-Colonial Narrative in Bosnia and Herzegovina”, in: Radeljić, Branislav (ed.) The Unwanted Europeanness? Understanding Division and Inclusion in Contemporary Europe, Berlin, De Gruyter, pp. 79–106. Janjić, D 2017, “Serbia between NATO and Russia – Reality against emotions”, Demostat (online: https://demostat.rs/en/vesti/dijalog/serbia-between-nato-and-russia-reality-agai nst-emotions/175). Jončić, M 2022, “Vojno nesvrstavanje. Pojam, razvoj, perspektive”, Srpska politička misao, vol. 38, no. 4, pp. 189–220. Kamp K-H 1999, “L’OTAN après le Kosovo: ange de paix ou gendarme du monde?” Politique étrangère, vol. 64, no. 2, pp. 245–256. Lekić, S 2017, “Neutralnost Srbije i nova geopolitička stvarnost”, Vojno delo, vol. 69, no. 3, pp. 63–73. Mladenović, I 2014, “Basic Features of Transition from Nominal Socialism to Political Capitalism: the Case of Serbia”, Journal of Contemporary Central and Eastern Europe, vol. 22, no. 1, pp. 5–25. Müller, L 2019, Neutrality in World History, New York/London, Routledge. Pavić, R 1968, “Geopolitičke karakteristike vojnog saveza NATO-a”, Politička misao, vol. 5, no. 3, pp. 355–380. Rabai, Z 2015. “Hungary as a Member of NATO” (online: www.dcaf.ch/content/download/ 36820/528857/file/16.pdf). Serfaty S 2008, “Globaliser l’Alliance?”, Politique étrangère, vol. 73, no. 1, pp. 79–90. Sperling, J & Webber, M 2009, “NATO: From Kosovo to Kabul”, International Affairs, vol. 85, no. 3, pp. 491–511.
254 Goran Marković and Ivica Mladenović Veličkovski, I 2017, “Bezbednost Srbije u kontekstu daljeg širenja NATO-a na Zapadnom Balkanu, Vojno delo, vol. 69, no. 2, pp. 90–108. Vickers, M. 2008, The Role of Albania in the Balkan Region. Is There an Albanian Question, Institute for Security Studies, Paris. Vrčar, M & Ćurčić, M 2022, “Vojna neutralnost Republike Srbije kao strategijska kategorija”, Srpska politička misao, vol. 38, no. 4, pp. 41–65. Stojanović, S & Šaranović, J 2022, “Vojna neutralnost i srpska strateška kultura”, Srpska politička misao, vol. 38, no. 4, pp. 253–271. Živulović, V 2010, “Interes Srbije da uđe u NATO je ekonomija”, Politika, 20 January 2010.
Part V
Rethinking the Transition Model and Imagining the Different Future Politics of the Former Socialist Countries
14 No Escape from Coloniality? Comparing Geopolitical (Self-)imagination in the Former Soviet Periphery Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova
Introduction Critical enquiry into processes of domination, hierarchy, and resistance within and across various world regions has been evolving into by now established and institutionalised fields of scholarship and social activism. Yet, emerging decolonial thought and its iterations in Eastern Europe and Eurasia still have to chart a substantive engagement in the societies and lifeworlds of people in these regions to further clarify what decoloniality could and should actually look like. While decolonial analyses on the region have been mostly used to tease out the (re-) production of Eastern Europe’s embeddedness in entangled histories and relations of capitalist/colonial exploitation and epistemic subordination, they have so far largely disregarded popular and microlevel perspectives and whether these may transpire knowledges, actions, and positions that challenge processes of domination and exploitation. To advance this agenda, in this chapter, we aim to develop a decolonial perspective to comparatively look at forms of domination, hierarchy, and resistance in two countries in the former Soviet periphery –Bulgaria and Kyrgyzstan. We seek to do so by inquiring “common” people’s political and moral orientations through the prism of ideological analysis, which we centre around the concept of the “imaginary West”. We understand the imaginary West as a cultural construct in high circulation in the entire postsocialist space and as structuring people’s perceptions of the world and their positions and actions within it (see Yurchak 2006: 160). We thereby try to show how people situate themselves within or vis-à-vis the ideology of modern capitalism and thus reproduce its colonial logics of ordering, subjugation, and exploitation. Our analysis is also interested in unearthing existing possibilities for the contestation of such dominant representations in everyday practices and invocations of political agency within the post-Soviet/socialist condition of domination by the colonial matrix of power. This presents a key question in discussions on decolonial forms of life in Eastern Europe and the postsocialist world more generally. As we have argued elsewhere (Kušić et al. 2019: 28), narratives of resistance to capitalist expansion –often raised in relation to the EU’s or other Western actors’ policies –are often appropriated by right-wing and other exclusionary and dehumanizing forces, which a decolonial approach must reject (see also Kováts 2021). However, to avoid DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-20
258 Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova a full course dismissal of forms of resistance against the capitalist-colonial system, there is a need to critically engage with not only political and social movements but also wider populations’ perspectives and lifeworlds. In particular, we propose that lay knowledge that is born out of personal experience of subjugation, suffering, and exploitation bears important potentials and sources of decolonial action and thought that remain to be explored not only in Eastern Europe but globally. To address this gap, this chapter offers two contributions along conceptual and empirical lines. First, by using Yurchak’s concept of the “imaginary West”, we endeavour to explore people’s understandings of their and their countries’ positionings within the global world order from a first-person perspective, based on ethnographic and discursive data. The concept and the very idea of “the West” and associated notions of civilisation, progress, etc. occur in people’s language in a naturalised and seemingly straightforward manner. At the same time, decolonial scholarship has demonstrated how this straightforwardness is the result of long-standing processes of construction and normalisation (e.g. Quijano 2000). Analyzing invocations of “the West” enables us to show people’s positioning in capitalist-colonial hierarchies of knowledge, identity, and belonging without having to look at references to “colonial” or “imperial” domination. At the same time, we remain cautious of flat interpretations that assign all invocations of the western imaginary to a Western-centric modernist project and colonial power imbalances. On the contrary, we seek to demonstrate how such concepts can be stripped of their ideological essence and turned into a vehicle for a radically different imagination of well-being, equality, and harmony which significantly resonates with decolonial thought. The second contribution of this chapter lies in the comparison it draws between an East European (Bulgaria) and a Central Asian country (Kyrgyzstan). Comparisons between these two contexts have so far received little attention, either because of their assumed homogenous historical trajectory, or as per their geographical and cultural distance from one another. For instance, while Bulgaria has been subject to a number of civilisational and European integration projects that emphasized the country’s incomplete and never quite equal degree of European-ness – routinely captured in the degree of society’s overall cultural, political, and economic sophistication –the same does not hold entirely true for Kyrgyzstan, where awareness of the country’s peripheral and vulnerable position, as well as its long history of a “nomadic civilization” has foregrounded more significant forms of resistance against the external influence and internal agendas of cultural and otherwise adaptation to Western standards. These variations will be especially helpful in pointing out the potential for decolonial forms of knowing, acting, and being which are all too often hidden under or brushed aside by narratives of cultural inferiority, demonisations of the “communist” past, or naïve loyalties to geopolitical allies. The chapter continues with a conceptual section that discusses the “imaginary West” and its link with post-and decolonial approaches in more detail. Sections three The West as better elsewhere, four The “Imperial West” as locus of injustice, exploitation, and geopolitical dominance, and five Alternative positionings: Reprojected welfare modernism and reassertion of dignity present
No Escape from Coloniality? 259 the analysis of the Bulgarian and Kyrgyzstani contexts, respectively, and indicate pro-and anti-Western positionings within them, as well as alternative ones that point towards decolonial sensibilities. In conclusion, we draw out the key synergies between our analysis and point to possible future directions of research on post- and decolonial trajectories in the postsocialist condition. The imaginary West and decolonial perspectives on the Eurasian region Alexey Yurchak best captured the emergence of the imaginary West in the context of late Soviet political and cultural reality (2006). For Yurchak, the imaginary West represents the archetypal version of “zagranitsa” –a concept in high circulation in popular parlance that paradoxically signified worldliness and insularity. The outside world was simultaneously constructed as “knowable”, “tangible”, and “mundane” –in line with the perceived centrality of the Soviet subject as a “deeply historical being” inhabiting an “international and historical process” –and on the other hand –“unattainable”, “abstract”, and “exotic” by virtue of restricted access and personal contact (Yurchak 2006: 158–159). In this respect, the imaginary West emerged as both internal and external to the Soviet reality, functioning as a hyper- real construct with no exact temporal or spatial coordinates. The creation and dissemination of this imaginary, according to Yurchak, was instrumental to the logic of Soviet ideology, as it helped to limit the adoption of Western bourgeois values but still gave a sense of agency to the people who could appropriate and radically reinterpret Western symbolic forms by investing them with local meaning (Yurchak 2006: 160). It is through a filtering and (re-)definition process that Soviet authorities managed to solidify a societal narrative in which a relatively clear-cut distinction between a “good” and “bad” (“extreme”, harmful) West emerged (2006: 166–170). The portrayal of life in Western societies as inferior in light of their moral weaknesses, greed, and lack of solidarity appeared convincing to many people and continued to inform their understanding of world politics and ideas of development and capitalism long after the collapse of socialism (see, e.g. Makarychev and Medvedev 2015: 45, 50; Omelicheva 2015: 81). The infatuation with Western commodities and cultural products across the socialist world has been cast as an “enchantment” with imagined Western-ness and, on the other hand, as an expression of political resistance. An imaginary space that was “tantalizingly close” and “frustratingly distant” at the same time became entrenched as a highly mythologised image of the West in societies in which the majority of people had very limited personal interactions with this “other side” so that their ideas largely derived from the ideological state smokescreen that constructed the West as “decadent”, “greedy”, “exploitative”, and “alienating” (Yurchak 2006: 204). These ideological dynamics started to change in the period of late socialism when the increased possibilities of travel and real encounters revealed the “ordinariness” of the West but even more importantly confirmed the existence of exploitation, commodity fetishism, and social alienation (see Markov 2016; Yurchak 2006: 205). Such exposures helped to exhibit some of the structural
260 Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova continuities that defined the relationship between actually existing socialism and western capitalism but they also put into a more positive light some socialist achievements such as universal welfare, mass employment, and general social justice and equality (Karkov 2018). With the collapse of state socialism, the West turned from a utopian and geopolitically remote construct to a main doctrine defining the political, economic, and cultural path of East European societies (Sampson 1998); and to varying degrees Central Asian ones as well (Omelicheva 2015; Schwarz 2013). In this period, however, the collective idealisation of Western modernity and its achievements was to a great extent a result not of a mass resistance to official ideology (as it used to be during socialism), but of a top-down intervention intrinsic to the postsocialist “transition”. Thus, “catching up” (with the West) became the motto phrase under which the dominant political project of dismantling the socialist system and fundamentally restructuring social, economic, and political institutions according to a Western template unfolded after 1989/91. The resumed movement forward that such discourse proclaimed, especially in Eastern Europe, exhibited a desire for the restoration of continuity with presocialist independent liberal statehood (dating back to the 19th century) and an assessment of the socialist past as a “lost time”, an interruption of the “normal” historical temporality and a painful aberration from the “natural” course of world history (see Rausing 2002). In Eastern Europe, Europeanisation has been portrayed as a “civilizational” choice that had to determine once and for all the national self-identification of former socialist/Soviet citizens. The dutiful adoption of “European” mores and values was expected to enable people to refashion their mentalities and let go of their residual Oriental or Balkan way of doing things, and further, to overcome their socialist mindsets. Thus, political, economic, and intellectual elites in Eastern Europe constructed “the neoliberal discourse of transition into the new common sense in the former Eastern bloc” and effectively rendered the West as a telos of capitalist development and modernity (Traykov 2019: 112). Thinking further about resistance to or rejection of the Western teleology of modernity, an evolving critical and dismissive positionality vis-à-vis the West has evolved in reaction to the large-scale disappointment with market reforms, free trade, and democratisation. Many people came to see the West as an ideal place whose level of development and societal efficiency was not possible to reach and whose developmental templates were not desirable or compatible with Eastern European or Central Asian “culture” (Omelicheva 2015: 91). In other instances, the West has been rejected altogether as a project of elite engineering through a penalizing neoliberal development agenda with a great and dehumanizing social cost for the majority of populations in both Eastern Europe and Central Asia (see Ghodsee and Ornstein 2021). However, general societal discourses of dismissal of Western-centric developmental and political assistance and interference have not rarely intersected with affective demonstrations of sovereignty, which in themselves exposed problematic tendencies of excluding various groups or orientations from definitions of the “national body” or the political community that constitutes a given state (see Marat 2016; Gullette and Heathershaw 2015; Todorova 2009). Such
No Escape from Coloniality? 261 evocations have mostly converged with (neo-) traditionalist and ethno-nationalist understandings of the nation and its heritage as something to be protected from both external influence and internal subversion. The important conclusion from this finding is that resistance against Western-centric political and societal development ideas is often equally exclusionary and nonemancipatory and thus requires further critical enquiry. The analytical perspective that emerges when looking at social dynamics through the lens of the imaginary West thus offers a productive avenue to analyze Western and Eurocentric thinking as part of a wider decolonial critique of East European and Eurasian societies. Similar to decolonial and other critical analyses (see Boatcă 2012; Tlostanova and Mignolo 2012; Karkov and Valiavicharska 2018), our chapter seeks to point out and deconstruct the role of Western modernity in colonizing the imagination of people in the former Soviet periphery, by which they have been included into the global system of modernity-coloniality, albeit as always incomplete, under-developed and never quite Western(ised) subjects. Yet, by unpacking the imaginaries behind people’s speech acts, practices, and material engagements, we push the analysis of contemporary social dynamics beyond the widespread focus on public discourse and interview analysis. Following Castoriadis, we see the social imaginary inextricably linked with the practical, material world as it “manifests itself in each case in a given society” (Castoriadis 1987: 225). However, apart from capturing and reproducing the status quo, Castoriadis also foresees a potential of autonomy and “radical imagination” (ibid.), as societies are characterised by “perpetual selfalteration” and the potential for “creation of new types of social-historical entities (objects, individuals, ideas, institutions, etc.)” (ibid.: 227). This radical potential resonates with decolonial thought as it seeks to move beyond the totalizing grip of various forms of coloniality in search of a life without violence, exploitation, and inequality. We consider this an especially important aspect given that most analyses of coloniality in Eastern Europe and Eurasia have so far been limited to unpacking the reproduction of coloniality while potentials of dismantling and overcoming the latter have attracted less attention. Before proceeding, a brief discussion of the two research contexts of this chapter and their similar, yet differential positioning in the neoliberal capitalist regime and its colonial underpinnings is necessary. After the collapse of state socialism in 1989 Bulgaria rushed into a downward spiral of marketisation of the economy alongside a harsh “shock therapy” neoliberal programme based on the implementation of mass privatisation of state assets and services, deregulation of financial and commodity markets, and decollectivisation of the agricultural sector. The long-term effects of these measures led to mass impoverishment of the population, high levels of unemployment, and gaping inequalities between a minority that was positioned well enough to navigate or profit from the restructuring and society at large. Analyses have demonstrated that the transition from a centrally planned to a capitalist economy has transformed a country with relatively high degrees of egalitarianism, mass employment, and universal social protection into a “stagnant, underdeveloped economy heavily reliant on loans from abroad as well as on direct foreign investments seeking high returns from the exploitation of cheap local
262 Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova labour and substandard workplace conditions” (Vassilev 2003: 112). Transnational migration and short-term labour mobility to western and southern Europe emerged as a key survival tactic for individuals and households without a reliable safety net. The dire effects of neoliberal reforms have been presented as the necessary price to pay for the advancement of the country to a First World status and corresponding economic development and well-being. The discourse of “catching up” with the West, dutifully promoted by the Bulgarian transitional experts and intellectual elite has acquired the status of an orthodoxy of subjective visions and collective efforts for transformation. This process has developed in parallel with a public demonisation of the socialist past and its achievements which aimed at imposing explanatory schemes for the ill development of Bulgarian capitalism and its Orientalistic tendencies. In a similar way, Kyrgyzstan was the country that was most open to international prescriptions of political and institutional reforms, at least within Central Asia and the post-Soviet space (Engvall and Laruelle 2015: ix; Omelicheva 2015). Both in light of its historical status as a net receiver of transfers during the Soviet Union in exchange for raw materials like cotton, minerals, and agricultural produce and given the considerable investments needed to maintain its costly mining industries, the newly independent country had no leeway to resist the lending conditionalities imposed by International Financial Institutions (IFIs), as opposed to its neighbours Uzbekistan or Kazakhstan (ibid.). The economic downturn endured by the majority of Kyrgyzstani society and the proliferating reports of President Akaev’s cronyism and manipulative actions finally led to his ouster in the so-called “Tulip revolution” of March 2005. The removal of Akaev’s no less corrupt and ruthless successor Kurmanbek Bakiev in April 2010 brought instability and conflicts between various political factions and along ethnic lines (mainly between the Uzbek and Kyrgyz communities). These dynamics culminated in the so-called “Osh” or “June events” in June 2010 during which hundreds of people were killed, numerous properties and businesses destroyed, and hundreds of thousands of people fled their homes. Alongside the increased support from donors, aid organisations, and Western countries like the US and Germany, regional powers like China and Russia play an increasingly important role in the country, perhaps most importantly in the framework of the Eurasian Economic Union. While the ideological discourse on the “transition” and the need to develop towards the “Western” model thus enjoys continued support, a sizeable portion of society and its elite strata favour more moderate and egalitarian policies. In particular, the demonization of the socialist past that swept across Eastern Europe cannot be observed in this country where many Soviet-era symbols and territorial designations have remained. The following analysis draws on the ethnographic data derived from two distinct research projects, with Polina focusing on the imaginary aspects of migration motivations within a cohort of Bulgarian-speaking labour migrants (2014–2016) and Philipp inquiring about competing imaginaries of social order in Kyrgyzstan (2014–2017). While the two projects differ in approaches and interests, the shared lens of Yurchak’s imaginary West through which we look at our contexts helps us generate compelling material on Bulgaria’s and Kyrgyzstan’s position in the global
No Escape from Coloniality? 263 geopolitical economy and valuable insight into the reproduction of capitalist-(neo) colonial relations of power and potential ways to resist to them. We present our comparative analysis of the Bulgarian and Kyrgyzstani cases in three sections. Starting with the idealization of “the West” as better “elsewhere”, we proceed to unpack anti-Western positionings, and finally, perspectives that add nuance and reflection to the former two. The West as better elsewhere One of the dominant imaginaries of the West that we observed in both geographical contexts evoked highly idealised images of an essentialised sociocultural and political construct that reminisced closely to what Yurchak defined as the better “elsewhere” of late socialism (2006: 158 ff.). Whereas Bulgarian interview partners took pride in their intimate knowledge of the West which they were always attentive to back up with multiple, but over-generalised and embellished examples, the Kyrgyzstani counterparts retained a position of distant observers who acknowledged their limited knowledge of a lifeworld that was desirable but for many unattainable. Narratives of Bulgarian would-be migrants established a teleological logic of collective transformation and laid claims to intimate Europeanness on the basis of cultural self-refashioning, while Kyrgyzstanis expressed appreciation of Western modernity without identifying as Western subjects or claiming the possibility of societal development according to this model. In both accounts, however, a notion of cultural and civilizational difference, if not inferiority was implicit in the ways in which people described their self-positioning vis-à-vis the West. By evoking and affirming civilizational hierarchies of the West over the East, it can be argued that our research participants situated themselves and their societies of origin in a subordinate position in the colonial matrix of power. In the Bulgarian context, Western superiority is constructed as a function of imagined meritocratic principles of social organization and the availability of pathways to professional realization and personal success. This imagining is primarily shared by members of the first postsocialist generation whose self- identification rests on their desire for distinctiveness on the basis of their successful adoption of values and attitudes pertaining to a superior “European” order (see Manolova 2020). They measured their self-proclaimed transformations into new “Western” subjects by their adoption of entrepreneurial attitudes, self-sufficiency, autonomous agency, and the nurturing of postmaterial values that to a great extent contradicted the socio-economic dimensions of their livelihoods, usually marked by restricted paths to social and economic success. Their conviction that Bulgaria would never be able to implement “properly” functioning meritocratic principles had made them unwilling to pursue any existing local possibilities and they naturalised their West-bound trajectories as the sole opportunity for valorizing their “enterprising” subjecthoods through plentiful opportunities for meritocratic rewards and privileges. As Juliana1 put it: “… there (the West/the UK), they are able to evaluate the abilities and talents of every single person and they do all they can to provide you with the opportunity to make your
264 Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova dreams come true”. Anguel added up: “... you are judged by your abilities and determination. No one cares about where you come from, the colour of your skin, your gender or who your parents are. Everyone is given an equal chance (to succeed)”. Both of these interpretations of meritocracy put forward a highly romanticised and dystopian vision of a social system that rewards an elitist stratum of highly deserving members of society –those who have intellectual capabilities and well- cultivated neoliberal value orientations at the expense of a majority that is ill-suited and unable to mobilise sufficient cultural resources. Young interviewees saw no contradiction in their conceptualization of British society as espousing social Darwinist patterns of redistribution of merit while still allowing for a just inclusion and equal treatment of all. In this sense, the stigma cast over East European migrants in the West which interviewees readily acknowledged was even justified and supported with claims for distinction vis-à-vis their less-educated and less-cultured compatriots who have a hard time integrating into Western societies due to their backwards socialist or Balkan mentality and its pertaining attitudes. Thus, the expectation that they needed to work twice as hard as the locals in order to break away from the stigma cast upon “typical” Bulgarian migrants and demonstrate their superior abilities and talent did not inhibit the moral endorsement that interlocutors granted to the perceived equal opportunities of British society. On the contrary, they validated existing racializing logics of integration as adequate and just. In Iva’s words: They (the majority Bulgarians) go to the UK not to draw on the good sides of the country, to contribute to its economy through ingenuity and professionalism but to lie on the back of the hard-working Brits. Then we wonder why when they hear ‘Bulgarian’ British automatically think ‘uneducated’, ‘criminal’ and ‘dark’. Young Bulgarians envisioned their Western futures with an acute awareness of their debased position in a global hierarchy of places (see Ferguson 1999), for whom the West routinely emblematised modernity as a model of culturalist and civilizational superiority. At the same time, they tried to resolve the frustration with their inferiority by reprojecting Orientalizing discourses on their fellow nationals whom they accused for failed personal and collective projects of becoming Western. At times they rejected the collective movement forward implied in the teleological narrative of postsocialist “transition” and decidedly denounced their belonging to a nation and a region characterized by perpetual developmental disadvantage. For them, migration represented an individualized strategy for overcoming globally structured inferiority and the only possible way for fulfilling long-standing desires and expectations of living in a modern sociocultural and economic order which had never fully materialized in Bulgaria. Philipp’s research project in Kyrgyzstan focussed on whether and how the imaginary West occurred in speech acts and practices in a taken-for-granted and naturalized manner. A significant number of informal conversations on this topic occurred spontaneously in everyday interactions, with some formal interviewees going into the topic as well. Many people were in awe when told that they were
No Escape from Coloniality? 265 speaking to someone from Germany, saying, for instance, “Germany, my dream, I would like to end up there”; “Ah Germany, … take me to Germany, isn’t it great there?” or asking “In that case, can you help me to get a visa or green card? I would really like to get there, to work and help my family here”. These enchanted reactions were often more based on the imagined advantages of living in Germany than on real knowledge of what that would be like, as the following conversation illustrates: Taxi driver: But if to be honest it would be better to live in Germany. PL: Why is that? Taxi driver: Well because there you have work, you can feed your family and so on. PL: But how do you get the idea that this is so there? Do you have any friends who live there and told you? Taxi driver: Well it’s Europe, isn’t it, I thought it was like this there, isn’t it? Thus, sometimes prompted by warnings that not all was as good as it seemed “over there”, sometimes out of their own curiosity, some conversation partners questioned the viability and cost-benefit analysis of life in Germany. On the whole, imaginings of the West and Kyrgyzstan and the Central Asian region in comparison to it often revolved around the idea that the West embodies a great civilization with superior capacities in production and orderliness, as illustrated in this quote from another taxi driver: But you are from a civilized country right? Look here, everything is dirty and disorderly, but in your country, everything is clean, you produce BMWs just like that … how can this be done? How can one do that which you do? [Kak mozhno delat to, chto u Vas?] As these quotes indicate, Kyrgyzstan wasn’t considered to be anywhere near reaching the civilizational stage and orderliness of the West. Conversations did not dwell a lot on the reasons or deeper meaning of this, but usually hinted at some underlying differences between the two cultures. Erkin, a local council head in a southern Kyrgyzstani city, for instance, surmised that, “Europeans, they are much more educated people, civilized ones; our people here are not so educated”. Further conversations with students from a university in the southern city of Osh, who hailed from various southern regions of the country, revealed experience- based impressions from the West (based on a visit to – again – Germany). These affirmed the above-mentioned astonishment and appreciation of the West’s technological and economic advancements: “There is everything: cities, streets and the whole comfort, and cars and transport, all new and high quality” (Student 2). Another student shared her positive memories of living in Germany: I was also there and I found it very interesting ... I liked this simplicity and uniformness, a person, even if they earn a lot of money, remains a simple person and I like this a lot. And I liked the fact that all people helped each other, for
266 Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova instance, there were cases when I made a mistake or got lost, they helped me. And the punctuality I like a lot. (Student 1) This quote shows how the student particularly valued the humbleness and helpfulness of people in the place she had visited. The other one added that people were patient and “always helpful, for instance when you need to get from one place to another, they would even give you a lift, so these are very high human values” (Student 2). This hints towards a high level of moral integrity and societal cohesion attributed to Western societies that correspond to its greatness in civilizational and developmental terms. Aside from doubts and critical thinking that the same student shared (see below), this demonstrates how people in Kyrgyzstan saw the West as better elsewhere, albeit one that was far remote from their own cultural and societal context. The “Imperial West” as locus of injustice, exploitation, and geopolitical dominance In line with Yurchak’s analysis of the construction of the “bad” West (2006: 166, Lottholz 2018: 118–120), we could observe criticisms and rejections of the West based on the exploitative, unjust, and imperialist ways in which it has reached and sustained its dominance. These ranged across a number of spheres of life, e.g. from historical memory and geopolitics to specific questions of contemporary economic disparities and exploitative labour migration regimes, and, correspondingly, were based on different degrees of personal experience. In the Bulgarian case, prospective migrants used anticolonial rhetoric to criticize the intensification of East–West power imbalances and corresponding economic exploitation and mistreatment to which East European migrants were commonly subjected as agricultural, care, or factory workers in Western Europe. They connected these to historical discourses on the West’s role as an imperial force in the Balkans and on the Bulgarian people’s traditional affinities to Russia as a result of a shared Slavic cultural and linguistic ancestry. In Kyrgyzstan, criticisms and rejection were based on personal experiences and knowledge of the Western-led “shock therapy” reforms, while some people’s positioning was embedded in Soviet history and present-day memorial culture, especially on the Second World War, while yet others cited current geopolitical events as confirming the West’s imperial nature. While these criticisms are important and legitimate, one should note how they construct a “bad West” by exclusively or over-emphasizing geopolitics and capitalist exploitation by select actors while ignoring the existence of ideologies and movements of solidarity, equality, and support for postsocialist societies. Most of the Bulgarian interviewees had already spent different amounts of time as low-skilled workers in Greece, Italy, Spain, and Germany. Their main association of the West transpired first-hand experiences of unpaid wages, discriminative treatment, and humiliating stereotyping. The prospect of working in a country where antiimmigrant and particularly anti-Bulgarian attitudes were at their peak filled many with apprehension, while at the same time, the common attitude of
No Escape from Coloniality? 267 those preparing their West-bound departures demonstrated migration as the only precondition for sustaining livelihoods and far from a voluntary choice. Such was the case with Mitko who elaborated on the status he expected to assume in the British racial order of belonging: They don’t like us (Bulgarians) there (in the UK). I see it on TV, they think we are trash. It is because we are paid much less than the locals, so they don’t like us. They treat us in a racist way because we are Bulgarians and we shouldn’t have the right to exist. Similar thoughts were shared by Yavor who signed a contract as a chicken catcher on a North British farm: “They want us for low qualified work. I don’t expect them to smile at me and treat me well. We all know that for them we are only hard and cheap workers”. Reflections on the bleak prospects awaiting them in the UK often resulted in a more general discussion of the unequal and exploitative mechanisms of EU enlargement and Bulgaria’s position in global geopolitics. Georgi, a 52-year-old car mechanic who explored opportunities for working as a handyman in a British care home, explained the following: They only took us to close the border. It was clear to everyone that we were not ready for it (EU accession). We cannot become a rich country because it is against their interest (the West) – they will have nowhere to go for a cheap holiday, also they need cheap labour. All is business, here (in the Balkans) there is cheap labour, drugs, prostitution… When explaining their and their country’s positionality within the regional and global political economy, these testimonies outline the same hierarchical order that depictions of the West as a telos of modernity and civilisation in the first subsection envisioned. However, they go a step further by critically examining the origins of Western supremacy –they reject the thesis of the West’s civilizational and modernizing mission and instead lament the workings of power mechanisms of dependency and exploitation that are conditioned by historical processes of subjugation, economic dependencies, and institutional conditionalities. Such critical sensitivities of centre–periphery relations of domination lay bare the wealth and progress of the West, idealized in imaginaries discussed above, as built upon the suffering and exploitation of marginalized “others” such as Bulgarians and Bulgarian migrants in particular. In other words, interlocutors made clear that for them, the West’s richness and superiority are preconditioned on the East’s poverty and subjugation. Would- be migrants saw great injustice in the fact that Bulgarians were conceived as “second class citizens”, ones less entitled to the quality of life enjoyed by their Western counterparts but instead of blanketing this statement in a self-orientalizing logic they emphasized their own deservingness and worth that was not acknowledged in the current circumstances, such as Ivan, a 35-year-old security guard: “We are more intelligent than them, maybe their education is better,
268 Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova but we are naturally intelligent. We are also more hard-working and capable; this is why they don’t like us”. Expressed regrets for Bulgaria’s past geopolitical alliances with Russia and its current and past grandeur as a political, military, and cultural global force served to deploy anti-Western arguments when it came to the spread of Western mass culture and consumerist values. In the words of Ivan: When I hear West I make very negative associations, this is something really bad for me. I associate it with lack of freedom and limitations, a lot of stupidity basically. We import all sorts of stupidities from the West that we think are somehow superior. We are perfectly fine where we are, our natural allies have always been the Russians, this is what we should look up at. A restricted set of livelihood opportunities had made these interlocutors accept migration as the only, although loathed, strategy for socioeconomic survival. However, in contrast to the majority of would-be migrants, they nurtured more realistic expectations of the marginalized and disempowered roles they were to occupy in the British labour market and society as a whole. So, while not explicitly using the terminology, they in fact took a stance against the capitalist system and its colonial forms of domination. In the same way that the idealisation of the West and its developmental model can be traced back to the Soviet period, one can also find clear narratives of (formerly) Soviet greatness and rejection of Western influence and thought in Kyrgyzstan. In this sense, the imaginary West, as it was conceived by Yurchak for the Russian part of the Soviet Union, can be mapped onto the Kyrgyz SSR and its present-day successor. Given the rootedness of the “bad West” imaginary in Soviet times, it was exhibited much more by people belonging to the Soviet generation, i.e. who had already come of age before 1991. In a casual conversation in a park, Maksat, a state servant in his early 50s, put forward the following standpoint and the positive attitude towards the Soviet past among his age cohort: Kyrgyzstani society is divided into those who don’t remember the Soviet Union at all, today this also already includes those who are 20 years and older, even they don’t remember, and then the 40 and 50 years-old people all know and remember the Soviet Union, and they would be in favour of it [oni vse budut govorit za Sovietskiiy Soiuz]. Regarding Western countries’ comprehensive involvement in development, political and economic assistance programmes in Kyrgyzstan, Maksat was certain that this could not shift the basic patterns of allegiance: “All this activity of Americans, the EU and so on doesn’t matter. If there is a war, we will be with the Russians, they are our old partner”. Besides designating Kyrgyzstan as a key ally of Russia when worst comes to worst, Maksat dismissed all activities of Western actors, which he thought to be self-interested and potentially calamitous: “Look at Greece for instance, it shows that American and European influence are no good”. These sensibilities were shared by other interview and informal conversation partners.
No Escape from Coloniality? 269 Many of these, including academics, keenly criticized the role of Western powers in imposing neoliberal shock therapy with its detrimental effects on Kyrgyzstan’s economy and society, as well as on the wider post-Soviet space. Another significant, although in some ways more implicit, manifestation of anti-Western and pro-Russian sentiments is the memorial culture around the Great Patriotic War [Velikaia Otechestvennaia Voina], which is well visible in many spheres of life in Kyrgyzstan. A widespread way of invoking this historical period were sayings such as “spasibo dedu za pobedu [Thanks to our grandfather for the victory]” or “Mozhno povtorit [We can repeat it; meaning the victory over Nazi Germany]”. Relatedly, many people in less educated milieus associated Germany with the Nazis and Hitler, saying “Gitler kaput” or “Ah, Gitler” and mimicking the Hitler beard and salute, which seems to point to the influence of still very frequent broadcasting of war movies in especially Russian TV channels and other media. In casual interactions such as with shop vendors, the latter would bring up the topic and reiterate Kyrgyzstan’s siding with their Russian brothers in arms: “Where are you from? Germany? You know we had a war with you, we were fighting together with the Russians [my voevali s vami s Rossianami], but we were on the side of Russia [a my za Rossiiu byli]”. The same individual also dismissed other Western powers’ geopolitics, when I mentioned that I was currently studying in the UK: Well it’s not really understandable, they are waging war, do they want to rule the whole world? … What is all this for? Here, we have Russia and China, they create order. But Europeans, they want to rule the whole world. [U nas tut Rossiia, Kitai, oni sdelaut poriadok. A Evropeitsy xotiat rulit vsem mirom.] Besides these and many other conversations, the Great Patriotic War also enjoys a significant presence in the public in Kyrgyzstan, especially around the Victory Day celebrations on 9 May but also throughout the year, as black-and-orange St George ribbons or thematic stickers are attached onto or within cars and marshrukta minibuses. These observations seem to indicate a more or less clear anti-Western geopolitical positioning. Furthermore, with the memorial culture constantly invoking the victory over the evil of Nazi ideology, it remains questionable to what extent Kyrgyzstani society (or post-Soviet societies more generally) is able to develop critical thinking and public discourse on right-wing ideology and racist and dehumanizing practices in a more self-reflective mode. Alternative positionings: Reprojected welfare modernism and reassertion of dignity As a third theme structuring imaginaries of social ordering and social organisation, we discovered alternative collective positionings that do not fit within a clear-cut pro-/anti-Western continuum. We interpret these renderings as attempts to step out of the vectors of the coloniality of power and its knowledge regimes and offer an explanation of the present and reconsideration of the past that carry emancipatory political potentialities despite their at times utopian and inconsistent outlook.
270 Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova In the Bulgarian case, these alternative imaginaries refer to the promise of “normality”, constructed in sharp contrast to a present that is experienced and narrated as stagnant, chaotic, and as lacking a clear direction of social and political development. By invoking meaning and value from embodied experiences of the socialist past, as well as mixing these with utopian elements of liberal individualism and democracy, Bulgarian prospective migrants imbued visions of “normality” with ideals of social stability, dignity in labour, and social justice. In Kyrgyzstan, these alternative positionings included critical thoughts about the under-side of Western modernity and progress, and furthermore, attempts to reassert the dignity of the population vis-à-vis the neoliberal capitalist regime and both Western, Russian, or other geopolitical profiteers. While emphasizing the unbridgeable gap between their current lives and their hopes for a desired “normality” of life in the UK, Bulgarian interviewees made direct references to the socialist past as echoing previous experiences, memories, or retrospectively idealized characteristics of social order that centred around human well-being and prosperity as opposed to profit or political power. Such associations were drawn mostly by members of the so-called “last Soviet generation” (Yurchak 2006: 30) whose formative years were spent in late socialism when socialist values wavered at the face of much desired Western modernity markers but at the same time, those whose lifeworlds were later on worst affected by the crumble of the system. Thus, although there was never any reference made to the socialist past as “normal”, the aspects of life in the West that Bulgarian interviewees put forward as most desired were often associated with positively evaluated characteristics of life “before”. Nikolay, a 52-years-old welder for whom migration was a precondition for affording his daughter’s university education, voiced an anguished comparison of life “before” and “now”: They can claim whatever they please but we all know the truth, it was a hundred times better in Zhivkov’s times. …There were no bananas and oranges… so what? They don’t even grow here. Now you can eat oranges but you stay with no job and back then they were obliged to provide you with a job; back then even simple villagers (posledniyat selyanin) could go to Sunny Beach for a holiday, now you need to work abroad in order to afford it. The descriptions of the alleged orderly organisation of life in the West were often referenced back to the predictability of life in socialism, in which everyone’s future was settled, and people knew their reasonable expectations would be accomplished. Interlocutors recalled lives of smooth social reproduction and transition between different life phases – attending school, finding stable employment, forming a family, becoming and being a parent, and ensuring the same life cycle from generation to generation. As Emilia, 55, reminisced: ‘Before’ (in socialism) people could plan their lives years and years ahead, you know that tomorrow you go to work again, unlike today when even if you have a job you can never be sure for how long. Now the pressure is very high and
No Escape from Coloniality? 271 people are not sure in the tomorrow, they live day by day, they cannot plan ahead. In the past people believed in the future, they believed the future will be better than the present. This is why we are leaving for the UK. Imaginations of “normality” also expressed working-class aspirations for obtaining dignity in labour, meaning a fair wage, stable employment conditions, job security and, not least, a sense of respectability. The assessment of labour relations in moral terms was particularly important to Bulgarian interviewees given the humiliating treatment they received from employers, colleagues, and society in general, and in light of the marginal status ascribed to their occupations. Often ascribed to the pejorative category of “transitional losers”, this generation’s pressing socioeconomic situation was commonly attributed to their personal failure to reinvent themselves according to the new market realities and shed the values of socialist working-class personhood. In many cases, this punishing transitional rhetoric has damaged perceptions of self-worth and negatively impacted people’s sense of human dignity and individual value. Bulgarian interviewees often praised the dignified position which was supposedly conferred to all workers in the West, while admonishing the humiliation and denigration they experienced in present-day Bulgaria and at the same time drawing parallels with socialist notions of dignity of labour. Nikolay, a nurse who was departing for a domestic carer position in the UK, stated: “They value workers there, not just medical specialists but all those who earn a living by honest labour … being just a simple worker is not shameful, we seem to have forgotten this nowadays”. The “normality” that people hoped to achieve through migration to the West displayed a desire for re-embedding certain aspects of the past into the future and thus assuring the continuity of previously existing values according to which social life was organized. The temporal sensitivities that their narratives contained clearly demonstrate a longing for an experience of a progressive temporal modality which is juxtaposed to a prevailing sensibility of postsocialist regress or at best stagnation. When yearning for a present with a future, would-be migrants confirmed current experiences of “Third-Worldization” (Vassilev 2003) defined by mass impoverishment, de-industrialisation, income disparity, and a feeling of marginality and stagnation. Simultaneously, they lamented their pride in participating in a socialist modernity defined by infrastructural development and industrialisation but also economic security, full employment, and education, as well as a particular form of sociability. In this sense, rather than a master narrative of essentialized superiority and epistemic subordination, migrants’ imaginings cast the West as an empty signifier able to carry affirmative and politically emancipatory agendas of socialist modernity into a Western future. Migration becomes a vehicle for inverting the dominant delegitimisation of the socialist past as backward and for reasserting interpretative authority over subjective experiences of postsocialism as regressive modernity. In Kyrgyzstan, the widespread pro-and anti-Western positionings outlined above are also subject to more nuance and differentiation. Most noteworthy in this regard are people’s critical thoughts about the under-side of Western modernity and
272 Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova progress (without reproducing anti-Western discourses), and furthermore, attempts to reassert the dignity of the population vis-à-vis the neoliberal capitalist regime and its Western, Russian, and further Eastern profiteers. As regards the first aspect, the student (number 1) whose idealised visions of Germany are quoted above, continued to elaborate on his view of life there: But I also thought, how can people live there? ... already after a month, I started feeling uncomfortable [mne stalo ne po sebe] because such a big city, this is threatening a person [trevozhit cheloveka], you already don’t want this, but you want some freedom… He further told how he had met people who were not as much integrated into the system as the ones he had seen on a daily basis, some, as he called it, “freaks”, who wanted to show him and others their lifestyle. “It seemed like they created some hell for themselves …”. The other interviewee also emphasized how she had found it very remarkable how in Germany, most people were always going somewhere and were in a rush, something that seemed exactly the way it had been told to her and which was certainly not an ideal state of affairs. Besides such reconsiderations and the questions and doubts regarding the viability of life in the West, people also invoked the fact that there was a lot of tradition and culture in Kyrgyzstan that one could be proud of (e.g. group discussion with a local working group on public security, southern Kyrgyzstan, 10 November 2015), thus putting dreams and idealisations of the West into a critical perspective. Furthermore, and perhaps more significantly, there is an array of narratives and stories which could be glossed as “anti-colonial discourse” in Kyrgyzstan, which has at its core the rejection of interference of both Western powers and the colonial and exploitative implications of the Soviet Union and the Russian imperial projects that preceded, succeeded and in some people’s eyes underpinned it. Most of this anticolonial thought seems to be embedded in ideas of Kyrgyz nationalism and self-determination. The state-sanctioned historiography of the past three decades has spawned different protagonists of Kyrgyz history who were seen as martyrs and fighters for the country’s interests. The perhaps most important figure, who has been honoured with multiple memorials and streets named after her across Kyrgyzstan, is Kurmanjan Datka, who in recent popular imaginaries has become regarded as a “mother of the nation” as she governed the lands of today’s southern Kyrgyzstan and negotiated peace with the encroaching Russian Tsarist army (Pannier 2014). Further national heroes include Iskhak Razzakov, the first chairman of the council of ministers of the CPSU in the Kyrgyz Autonomous SSR and his successor Yusup Abdrakhmanov, who, knowing that the Stalinist regime would eventually claim their lives, stood up for the interests of the small and marginal republic (Loring 2014). These figures stand out in a legacy characterised by cooperativeness and of only implicit resistance of many generations of Kyrgyz(stani) political actors. They have found wide resonance in society and are performed on various occasions, especially the story of Kurmanjan Datka, such as national or city-level holidays. However, these performances and sensibilities are usually subsumed in frameworks
No Escape from Coloniality? 273 that glorify the nation and its traditions, which require critical reflection as to the exclusion of nonethnic Kyrgyz that they promote (e.g. Gullette and Heathershaw 2015, Marat 2016). Despite a strong presence of nationalist discourse and political agendas, there is still a potential to overcome these towards more egalitarian and solidaristic ways of living and social organisation. One example for this is the increasingly outspoken criticisms of Kyrgyzstan’s marginal position in the regional and global political economy and the raising of awareness of the predicaments of Kyrgyzstani migrants. For instance, a documentary and discussion on the occasion of the country’s 30th anniversary of independence in 2021 gave insight into migrants’ situations and wider societal challenges, acknowledging that the “kernel of the migration problem, and of Kyrgyzstan’s transformation into a migration country lies in the first leaders of our state” and characterizing the past 30 years of independence as “degradation, failure and institutional collapse” (Azattyk 2021: 38:50 min.). This and other examples, for instance, social media accounts under the hashtag #ожизнимигрантов (on migrants’ lives, see Vestnik Migranta n.d.), suggest that explicit criticism and discussions on socioeconomic conditions and policy-options have become more frequent. Yet, although the government’s economic policy approach has changed, as demonstrated in the nationalisation of the strategic Kumtor gold mine in 2022, its increasing use of repressive and abusive practices seems to render an escape from the polarisation between nationalist-traditionalist and liberal imaginaries as hard as ever. Against this background, acts of speaking up against the present-day capitalist regime and living conditions arguably present entry points into decolonial ways of imagining a future, which is worth exploring in more depth in future research. Conclusion In this chapter, we have looked at the ways in which people in the former Soviet periphery – in Bulgaria and Kyrgyzstan – make sense of their countries’ and their personal positioning within regional and global geopolitical and political– economic relations. While the perspectives presented here emerged from two distinct research endeavours with disparate focus and underlying questions, the narratives and ideas put forward by our conversation partners contain striking commonalities and parallels. In particular, the way in which people imagine “the West”, its desirable or despicable characteristics, and their own, as well as their societies’ positions vis-à-vis this collective construct, revealed important insights. The first commonality across the analyzed contexts is that the West is often seen as a telos of modern capitalist development and civilisation. This superior and essential status was conceived in varying dimensions, ranging from material and economic ones that emphasize wealth, well-being, industrial production or military might, to more moral and normative ones, which are focused on the orderliness, discipline, humbleness, and helpfulness characterizing large parts of Western societies. The reproduction of the idealised West can be seen as affirming hegemonic forms of knowledge and, especially in the Bulgarian context where interlocutors
274 Philipp Lottholz and Polina Manolova had experiential knowledge of “the West”, can be seen as a form of strategic self- positioning and a way of performing distinction vis-à-vis the envisioned cultural inferiority and lack of personal adaptability of stagnant postsocialist subjectivities. Endorsing and performing Western superiority in such (neo-)colonial evocations thus appears to be the only opportunity for a Western-oriented postsocialist generation to claim symbolic value and thereby ameliorate their complex position of material stagnation –nurtured with the visions and values of Western-styled “middle class” lifestyle but without recourse to socially available paths for its materialisation. As we further showed, many people rejected idealised notions of “the West” and have come to see it as a mere mirage covering up an inherent moral weakness, civilisational decadence, and a drive for imperial expansion and exploitation. The remarkable feature of anti-Western narratives put forward by Kyrgyz people was their obvious embeddedness in the Soviet legacy of constructing an ill-intent, “bad” West. These anti-Western sensibilities resonated with Bulgarian migrants’ accounts of the “imperial West” and its exploitative and dehumanizing treatment of East European workers, as well as the understanding that Westwards migration is a forced choice resulting from intra-European politico-economic asymmetries and dependencies. However, such statements often drift into or lean on racist and nationalist rhetoric where one’s deservingness is constructed as depending on one’s belonging to the national (or wider regional) political community, if not whiteness and racial or cultural superiority. Thirdly and most importantly for this collection, our aim was to show how people not only reproduce the logics of the coloniality of power, knowledge, and being in the contemporary capitalist system but also to see if there are ways of calling out these logics, and, possibly, to resist them. The more standard repertoires already known in the current research were revealed in the Kyrgyzstani case, including anticolonial discourses and memory culture directed both at Western but also Russian and other dominant geopolitical actors, as well as calls to end corrupt wealth accumulation and exploitation by national elites in a dysfunctional politico-economic system. Going beyond these, the analysis in the Bulgarian case has pointed to migrants’ reimagining of the West as a place offering an affordable and dignified life, workers’ rights, and predictability. This demonstrates, we argue, the radical potential of imagination (Castoriadis 1987: 225 ff.) by which the lost achievements of the socialist era are reprojected into capitalist economies. Although this may seem counterintuitive at first sight, it should be seen as a reflection of the drastic depletion of the welfare state in Bulgaria (and other East European countries), in comparison to which the meagre Western welfare regimes – themselves partially a result of Cold War-era competition with the socialist bloc –still appear desirable. With a guiding interest in decolonial horizons in people’s thinking and actions, our chapter has first and foremost documented the way people reproduce relations of domination, hierarchy, exploitation, and possibly violence via the construct of the “West” (Yurchak 2006). We have shown how invoking this imaginary, whether
No Escape from Coloniality? 275 in its idealised or vilified version, is a way of being caught up in an ultimately short- sighted ideology, whether it is underwritten by liberal capitalist or anti-Western political agendas. By shedding light on this specific iteration of the coloniality of knowledge and being in two particular countries in the postsocialist world, we have exhibited the challenge that decolonial thinking still faces: capitalist modernity continues to be constructed as “normal”, desirable, and superior to alternative modes of social organisation. At the same time, we have shown that Eurocentric imaginaries and vocabularies get hollowed out of their ideological baggage and are filled with new meaning and interpretations –a lay critique of posttransitional infringement of rights and human dignity that emanates from the frustration and disillusionment with Western modernist development. The challenge for decolonial perspectives on the region is to start tapping into these experiences and lifeworlds to exhibit further possibilities of dismantling these capitalist-colonial knowledge formations and opening up new political horizons. Note 1 All names are pseudonyms.
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15 A Colonial Expedition in the Balkans Ethnography as Primitive Accumulation During the First World War Christina Novakov-Ritchey
Introduction During the First World War, ethnographers and folklorists played a critical role in facilitating the process of primitive accumulation in the Balkans. Ethnographic research expeditions in Habsburg-occupied territories were seen as directly contributing to the war effort. One critical research expedition occurred in 1916, led by Austrian folklorist Arthur Haberlandt, with the support of the Austro-Hungarian government. This expedition followed the army’s route through Montenegro, Albania, Kosova, and Serbia. Following this research trip, Haberlandt produced an evolutionist narrative that linked the Balkans’ level of agricultural development with its level of civilization. Haberlandt created a closed feedback loop in which the poor fertility and under-cultivation of the soil are both the cause and result of Balkan primitivity. Ultimately, Haberlandt’s research participates in the process of so-called primitive accumulation, by cataloguing the economic potential of the Balkans. This research is disseminated both through texts and photographs. Through his photographs, we are able to witness the process of intra-European racialization in action as his photographs link physical characteristics with their capacity for different types of work. This process was not without resistance, however. Some of Haberlandt’s photographed subjects resist capture by practicing a form of ethnographic refusal. In light of recent renewed attention to the relationship of primitive accumulation to colonialism, this chapter contextualizes the project of Habsburg imperial ethnography according to the region’s histories of colonialism and primitive accumulation. At the turn of the twentieth century, Europe found itself at a crossroads between what Arno Mayer has referred to as the Old Order and the New Order (Mayer 1981). The dawning age of capitalism was not driven by the mass unopposed takeover of capitalists. Rather, through the First World War, Europe was mostly governed by the Old Order leaders who wanted to preserve their own power. During this time, we see the elements of feudalism mixed with elements of capitalism. Meanwhile, a wave of European colonization was underway, and everyone was looking for new colonies. Alongside Queen Victoria’s notoriously violent colonial reign, the Berlin Conference divided up Africa to different European powers in the name of development. The period from the 1870s through DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-21
278 Christina Novakov-Ritchey the First World War is also known as the era of “New Imperialism”, or, in the words of Eric Hobsbawm “the age of empire” (1987). Habsburg imperialism left a lasting scar in the Balkans. Following the Russo- Turkish War of 1877–1878, Bosnia was given to the Habsburg Empire. This territorial acquisition was made official during Congress of Berlin in 1878, where European powers divided up the Balkan peninsula amongst themselves. W.E.B. Du Bois referred to this congress as the prelude to the 1884 Berlin Conference, which was the crux of the so-called “Scramble for Africa” (Du Bois 1943). Austria- Hungary, however, did not “receive” any African colonies from this conference. From 1878 through the First World War, Austria-Hungary invested its colonial aspirations into Bosnia. “Austria’s Africa” (Reynolds-Cordileone 2015: 171), was the only real colony of the Austro-Hungarian Empire was not out of strategy, but rather lack of opportunity: “The colonization of South-Eastern Europe was given priority over extra-European colonial endeavours, largely because of a lack of opportunities for the latter, rather than due to any strategic plan” (Marchetti 2007: 166). The appropriateness of “colony” and “colonialism” to describe the relationship of the Habsburg Empire to Bosnia has been debated at length. Bosnia- Herzegovina’s status has been described variously as “quasi-colonial” (Marchetti 2007: 166; Detrez 2002a, b; Okey 2007: 220), an instance of “frontier Orientalism” (Gingrich 2007), a “proximate colony” (Donia 1981), and a “surrogate colony” (Promitzer 2019). While some accuse “colonialism” of being an anachronism, inappropriately applied to the Bosnian case, it was clear during the time of occupation that Austrians and other Europeans viewed Bosnia as a colonial project, albeit one that was geographically much closer than the colonies of the other great powers. In his 1902 article in the Monthly Review, Luigi Villari refers to Bosnia and Herzegovina as “Vienna’s ‘first colonial experiment’ ” (Hajdarpasić 2015: 192; Villari 1902: 85, 87). During a colonial debate, a German parliamentarian argued that “That little slice of Herzegovina could well be worth more than the whole of East Africa” (Reynolds-Cordileone 2015: 171). To deny the coloniality of the Habsburg Balkans is revisionist anachronism, not the other way around. Ethnographic enclosure Ethnography played a significant role in the coloniality of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Around the turn of the century, significant inventions like the camera and the phonograph converge with the growing interest in Europe to create national museums (Landesmuseum). Ethnographers at the time produced knowledge for the Austro-Hungarian Empire. They studied the empire’s constituent people, paying particular attention to its new territorial acquisition in Southeast Europe. Through ethnographic expeditions and museum exhibitions, ethnographers collaborated with the imperial military to facilitate the primitive accumulation process in Bosnia and Herzegovina, as well as to express ambitions to extend the imperial domain through Montenegro and Albania.
Colonial Expedition in the Balkans 279 Ethnographic interest in the Balkans became official in Vienna in 1884. The Viennese Anthropological Society created an “Ethnographic Commission”, with the intention “to effectively stimulate and support the study of the ethnography of the Balkan countries” in addition to the study of Austria-Hungary (Marchetti 2007: 170). In the following decade, this intellectual project would build a home in the Museum for Austrian Folk Life and Folk Art (Museum für österreichische Volkskunde) in Vienna. In 1894/5 Indologist Michael Haberlandt and the Semitist Wilhelm Hein established the Association for Austrian Folklore (Verein für österreichische Volkskunde), the Journal for Austrian Folklore (Zeitschrift für österreichische Volkskunde), and the Museum for Austrian Folk Life and Folk Art (Museum für österreichische Volkskunde). Articulating the agenda of the museum, they “[claimed] the Empire as their field of research” (Marchetti 2010: 210). Michael Haberlandt served as the first director of the museum. Born in Altenburg, Hungary in 1860, Haberlandt began his career studying Hindi, Sanskrit, and Indology (Marchetti 2007). Haberlandt began his career with a study on Indigenous Maldivans (Die Cultur der Eingeborenen der Malediven) (1892) and in 1893, he began teaching courses including “Ethnography of West India”, “Principles of General Ethnology”, and “Malay and African Ethnography” (Bockhorn 1988: 68; cited in Dow and Bockhorn 2017). A student of the Orientalist Friedrich Müller, Haberlandt began his career by studying Europe’s colonial subjects abroad. After 1900, however, he refocused his gaze on Europe, Austria, and the constituent people of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Haberlandt outlined an agenda for ethnographic research that aligned with the values of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. His argument for the necessity of this research was that the discipline would facilitate “[closing] the gap between urban high culture and primitive rural culture by incorporating the latter into the former” (Marchetti 2010: 210). This was not to be a process of elimination per say, but rather sat within a social welfare paradigm for the transition to capitalism: “Preindustrial handicrafts were to be protected from obliteration by modern industry and developed into competitive cottage industries that would include rural people on fair economic terms, halting migration to the cities and other undesirable consequences of modernization” (Marchetti 2010: 210). I will return to the significance of this attention on cottage industries in the upcoming sections on Arthur Haberlandt and Adolf Vetter. In the first issue of the Austrian Journal of Folklore, published in 1895, Michael Haberlandt laid out his underlying philosophy and approach to folklore. He wrote: We do not care for nationalities as such, but for their popular (volksthümliche), pristine (urwüchsige) roots. Ours is the exploration and presentation of the popular lower layer [of culture] alone. We want to identify, interpret and display the proper “Volk,” whose primitive economy implies a primitive lifestyle, a pristine state of mind in its natural form. In his essay, Christian Marchetti assessed Haberlandt’s vision of Volkskunde (folklore) as “an internal primitivism, available for discovery in the native population
280 Christina Novakov-Ritchey of the multiethnic empire” (Marchetti 2007: 174). Albert Doja has highlighted that the Balkans were so intellectually compelling for the Viennese, because the region “[represented] a liminal region between the two approaches of Völkerkunde and Volkskunde” (Doja 2014: 323). By concentrating on the divide between the folk and the other, ethnographers sought to execute the empire’s cultural mission (Kulturmission). The Kulturmission was summed up by Crown Prince Rudolf in his 1888 visit to Sarajevo: “Our mission [here] is to bring Western culture to the Orient” (Reynolds-Cordileone 2015: 172). Following in the footsteps of his father, Michael Haberlandt’s son Arthur Haberlandt (b. 1889, d. 1964) became involved in ethnographic research in the Balkans in the 1910s. After studying anthropology, ethnology, and prehistory at the University of Vienna, he completed his doctorate in 1911 and habilitation in 1914 with a thesis “on the drinking water supply of primitive peoples” (Johler 2020). A. Haberlandt would go on to become a research assistant and assistant curator of the Museum for Folk Life and Folk Art in 1918, and then senior curator in 1920. In 1924, A. Haberlandt succeeded his father as “director of the museum and secretary general of the Verein für Volkskunde (Folklife Society)” (Johler 2020). Coming of age at the dawn of the First World War, A. Haberlandt escaped military service (at the insistence of his father) by leading an ethnographic expedition into the Balkans. With much of the Balkans previously inaccessible, Austria’s occupation extended into the Western Balkans during the war, thus facilitating the travel of not only military personnel but also scholars, throughout the region. As is clear in A. Haberlandt’s own writing from the time, this expedition and affiliated efforts were seen as “ethnographic contributions to the war effort” (Haberlandt 1917: VIII; Marchetti 2007: 185). The formal name of the expedition was the “Expedition [for the study of] arts, history, ethnography, archaeology, and linguistics in the k.u.k. occupation zones in Serbia, Montenegro and Albania, commissioned by the Ministry of Education and the Imperial Academy of Sciences”1 (“Kunsthistorisch-Archäologisch- Ethnographisch-Linguistische Balkanexpedition in den k.u.k. besetzten Balkangebieten, im Auftrag des k.k. Unterrichtsministeriums und der kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien”). In his 1917 book synthesizing the results of the expedition, A. Haberlandt outlines the relevant government figures that made the expedition possible: The trip was carried out on behalf of the k. k. Ministry of Education undertook the initiative to implement in the sense of His Excellency the Minister Dr. L. Cwiklinski will give Mr. Hofrat R. v. Karabacek, E. Reich and government councillor M. Haberlandt, but in the end it only came about thanks to the particularly benevolent and understanding approach of the k. u. k. Army high command makes possible, as the most amiable and hospitable reception in the army in the field has always accompanied and promoted us on all our journeys. The printing of this work was supported by a grant from the k. k. Ministry of Culture and Education, for which the most respectful thanks are expressed. (p. VIII)2
Colonial Expedition in the Balkans 281 The expedition sent six scholars to travel to Montenegro, northern Albania, and Serbia from 22 May to 12 August 1916. The members of the expedition included ethnographer Arthur Haberlandt, Slavist Franz Kidrić, archaeologists Arnold Schober and Camillo Praschniker, linguist Maximillian Lambertz, and art historian Ernst Buschbeck. The expedition route took the scholars first from the military harbour of Kotor (Cattaro) to the Montenegrin capital of Cetinje.3 Following the Army’s route, the expedition proceeded to Podgorica, from which point the group crossed Shkodra (Skutari) Lake to Albania. Shkodra was the group’s primary hub. From this point, the scholars went southward to Kruja, Tirana, Elbasan, and finally to the Shkumbin River. The expedition then travelled along the Shkumbi river, eventually proceeding northward back towards Shkodra. After that, the group split up, leaving Haberlandt and Buschbeck to cross the northern Albanian Mountains into Kosovo on foot. Finally, they went by train to Belgrade as the final stop on their trip. In his analysis of the expedition, Arthur Haberlandt forges an evolutionist connection between people’s level of agricultural development and level of civilization. Haberlandt finds evidence of the primitivity of the Balkan people in their failure to adequately exploit the soil, failure to meet capitalist standards of productivity, and dependence on the natural landscape. Haberlandt thought that in order to bring the Balkan peasant into the capitalist mode of production, it was necessary to intervene in the relationship between the people and the natural world. Haberlandt saw Balkan peasants as having a “close dependency on the natural features of the individual landscapes”, which had been inherited from the distant past. He referred to this dependency as the “primitive cultural life” of the Balkans: the failure to demonstrate consistent and predictable productivity. In contrast to the Balkan peasant, Haberlandt saw the Austrian as the exemplar worker, whose “regular, day- to-day work” is seen as the “natural state of existence” for “the civilized Central European” (1917: 167). If one wants to be seen as “natural” today, one must labour in ways that are amenable to the market. From the very beginning of his 1917 report on the expedition, Haberlandt connects the status of agriculture in the region to value judgements about the populace as a whole. In his report, Haberlandt immediately highlights the productive potential of the region by praising Montenegro’s “lush green alpine meadows” and “abundant rainfall”. In stark contrast to this abundant potential, Haberlandt is critical that the soil of the Rijeka and Zeta Valley “by no means has its fertility appropriately exploited (ausgenützt)” (1917: 2). He also notes that the Podgorica basin soil “has by no means been exploited in accordance with its fertility, rather large areas lie unused and fallow”. In the eyes of the Habsburg imperialist, the Balkan peasant wastes their own land. By juxtaposing potential fertility with the failure of the Montenegrin people to exploit the soil, Haberlandt creates a justification for the Habsburg occupation. In the eyes of the imperialist, Montenegro cannot be left to squander such a great opportunity. Haberlandt also sees more morally damning instances of wasted productivity in the karst regions of Montenegro and the highlands of northern Albania. In his discussions of these regions, he identifies the weak link in the development of the
282 Christina Novakov-Ritchey Balkans as the unsatisfactory productivity and work ethic of the population: “At the same time as soil poverty, these are also the most passive areas in terms of the economic work performance of the population, and they can even be described as particularly disreputable on this point” (1917: 167). Haberlandt saw this disreputable work performance as an unproductive “lifestyle”, which must be transformed into a capitalist work ethic (1917: 168). Haberlandt seeks to achieve the transformation of the peasantry into the proletariat through both the heightened exploitation of the landscape as well as the heightened exploitation of labour. This required a disciplining of both the people and the land. Haberlandt, for example, sees great economic potential in turning traditional crafts into competitive cottage industries. Getting in the way of this potentially profitable endeavour was the attitude of Balkan people towards work: “getting the people used to regular work remains the most difficult task of incorporating this nationality into higher European civilization” (Haberlandt 1917: 170). Haberlandt critiques the tendency of Balkan peasants to only work as much as they need, rather than trying to achieve a surplus. Without surplus, there is no profit, and without profit, this whole operation fails. Haberlandt has an evolutionary explanation for this incongruity of the Balkan peasant with the objectives of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Haberlandt explains that the poor work ethic of the Balkan peasant results from their being historically backwards in time: “If the Montenegrin and Albanian do not work more than they need, this is ultimately the legacy of ancient states of existence, as they were still in the ancestors of almost all European cultural nations north of the Alps during the migration period” (1917: 168). To prove this evolutionist temporal distancing, Haberlandt appeals to the empirical data of the region’s “unfavourable soil conditions”, which have “[bred] the population into narrowly defined forms of life” (1917: 168). Calling the people “individualistically unproductive”, Haberlandt also offers a psychological interpretation of the unwillingness to work. He defines the Balkan worker’s subjectivity saying that the worker “does not generate any higher work energies, does not think beyond the immediate future, lets time pass by suspiciously waiting for the development of things and meanwhile sees the best path in following familiar habits and preserving one’s own advantage in all ways whenever possible” (Haberlandt 1917: 169). Adolf Vetter, director of the k. k. Trade Promotion Office (k. k. Gewerbeförderungs-Amtes), echoes Haberlandt’s sentiment in his report on 1910 Bosnia. Vetter identified the evolutionary level of the population as the biggest challenge for Habsburg economic goals: “It is clear to me that the organic development of the down-to-earth, primitive-noble production to more modern forms of production is one of the most difficult tasks that can fall to a commercial administration at all” (1911: 51). One of the key methods that the Empire could offer is through “education and literacy”, which Haberlandt thought “would accustom Montenegrins and Albanians to regular labour, integrating them into European civilization” (Marchetti 2010: 227). Throughout his report, Haberlandt highlights the causes and consequences of underdevelopment and impoverishment in the Balkans. However, rather than
Colonial Expedition in the Balkans 283 offering any legitimacy to local attitudes towards capitalist labour relations, Haberlandt sees these issues with surplus and productivity as necessitating the support of an “external power” (1917: 169). The anti-imperial attitudes of the population were seen as particularly inefficient by the Empire. Haberlandt, seeing the obstinance of the Balkan peasantry, concludes that resistance to imperial domination qualifies as a “[prejudice] that naturally [arises] from the traditional instincts” of the people, who are inclined to independence and distrust (1917: 170). Balkan peasants’ distrust of armed imperial occupiers, for Haberlandt, signified a deviation from modernity. Compared to the “civilized Central Europeans”, Haberlandt saw most of the region as desperately far behind. Except for the cities of Cetinje and Durrës (Durazzo), there was little evidence of “ ‘western’ colonization” (Haberlandt 1917: 167). One mechanism meant to encourage peasants to accept the new economic order was the spread of private home ownership. In his report on Bosnia, Vetter advocated for the widescale construction of private homes, whether architecturally western or “down-to-earth”. He saw homeownership as significant for the transformation of the peasant into a waged worker, “Because nothing nourishes the tendency towards a personal relationship that much between the owner or consumer of a commodity and who would be himself and benefits business as much as owning one’s own home” (1911: 53). Owning a home was important for nascent capitalism in Vetter’s perspective, because “it creates that mental disposition of the citizen more than any other circumstance, which one wants to strengthen through the promotion of the middle class” (1911: 54). To be a homeowner physically invests the peasant in capitalist social relations. Homeownership trains the subjectivity of the proletariat and the bourgeoisie. By cataloguing the economic potential of the Balkans, Haberlandt, Vetter, and others participate in the process of so-called primitive accumulation. Primitive accumulation, as defined by Marx, is the initial accumulation of raw materials (in both nonhuman and human forms), which enables capitalism to develop. As a social process, primitive accumulation is ultimately a process of separation, wherein workers are severed from the means of production. Through the divorcing of workers from the means of production, workers and their labour-power are turned into objects, while capital takes on a new social life of its own. This separation can also be called “enclosure”. Through enclosure, capitalists not only divorce the producer from the means of production, but they also transform “the social means of subsistence and of production into capital” and transform “the immediate producers into wage laborers” (Marx 1967: 714). For peasants in the Balkans during the early twentieth century, that meant enclosing the agricultural common lands and forcing people to stop producing to satisfy subsistence needs and to start producing for markets –both domestic and international. Claudia von Werlhof has theorized the process of the capitalist enclosure as a redefinition of nature, wherein all that is counted as “nature” is that which the capitalists deem should be free or of low cost –e.g. land, soil, minerals, plants, and labourers: “ ‘nature’ is everything that they do not have to, or are not willing to pay for”. By reclassifying labourers themselves as “nature”, capitalists make
284 Christina Novakov-Ritchey their labour “[appear] as a natural resource and their products as akin to a natural deposit” (1988: 97). These nature-workers are initially mostly women, Indigenous people, and enslaved people, but quickly also come to envelop the waged worker as well. Haberlandt assists in the project of primitive accumulation in the Balkans on behalf of the Austro-Hungarian Empire through his scholarly writing as well as through his photographs. His ethnographic photographs serve as a technology of enclosure, through which subjects are captured and turned into objects: people become workers, traditions become commodities, and land becomes property. During the expedition, Arthur Haberlandt reported to have taken 400 9 × 12 format photographs using a Lerchner Kamera. He also collected objects that were important to his vision of ethnography (Marchetti 2007: 185). He particularly commended household items as being of value for folklore and cultural history (Haberlandt 1917: 8). Regarding the collection of objects, “the expedition’s mission was not meant to prey on war spoils in the name of science. The official instructions stipulated that the members must not carry away anything that the native population could regard as valuable, at least not for the moment” (Marchetti 2007: 185). However, despite this directive, Haberlandt himself brought back hundreds of objects. His photographic subjects of interest were first defined by Arthur’s father. Inaugurating the museum’s photography collection, Michael Haberlandt had two purposes in mind: (1) the preservation of the primitive creations of folklore that were now threatened by modern times and (2) the accumulation of as large a number of evidence as possible for scientific comparison. There were six photographic subjects that M. Haberlandt identified and promoted: pictures of rural inhabitants; old or old-style homes and buildings; traditional costumes; “cult objects;” games, music performance, and drama; and rural work (Marchetti 2013: 315). In addition to these six subjects, Arthur Haberlandt also photographed some urban scenes as well as evidence of modernization in progress (and its future potential). Examining the body of photographs captured by Arthur Haberlandt, one notices his close attention to objects and processes that could potentially be made profitable. In one photograph, a soldier stands behind a spinning wheel (Figure 15.1). The soldier’s body is facing the camera, but his face is partially out of frame. The object of focus, the spinning wheel, is the centre of attention. Watching over this potential industry, the soldier and Haberlandt collaborate on the capture and enclosure of this economic activity. In a related vein, Haberlandt captured photographs of olive presses, looms, and more spinning wheels. He also photographed some agricultural scenes, where we can see large expanses of land that are available for cultivation. In one such image, there is a somewhat distant farmer and his two cows walking in the foreground, while open fields stretch out behind him (Figure 15.2). This photograph serves as an invitation extended to the imperial government to privatize, cultivate, and profit. In her book The Filipino Primtive, Sarita Echavez See defines the “imperial archive as a mode of accumulation” (2017: 2). Connecting Marx’s concept of primitive accumulation and Aileen Moreton-Robinson’s concept of “epistemological
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Figure 15.1 Soldier behind a spinning wheel.
possessiveness” (2009), See identifies how colonizers in the Philippines accumulated knowledge as capital through archival materials, museum exhibitions, ethnographic research, and photography. As a mode of primitive accumulation, knowledge serves as a guise for the accumulation of resources. Colonial knowledge production wants to know the colonized in order to exploit the people as workers and their land as resources. See breaks down accumulation into two parts: first, the “enclosure of land and resources”, and second, the “developmental narrative from the primitive to the civilized that underpins the quest for accrued knowledge” (2017: 3). I find this latter phase to be particularly significant. I interpret this as meaning that the colonial narrative of development justifies the capturing of land and labour as capital by rationalizing it as a process of “modernization” and “civilization”. Thus, not only people are to be “civilized” through the colonization process but also objects and land must be “civilized” into commodities. To become civilized is not a matter of efficiency or health or intelligence or any of the other referents, to become civilized is to become alienated. Alienation, as defined by Marx, is the connection between primitive accumulation and the ongoing accumulation and reproduction of capitalist social relations. Alienation is the process of workers being separated from the means of production.
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Figure 15.2 Farmer and cows in a field. Source: Haberlandt, A. 1916. Photograph, Museum of Folk Life and Folk Art, Vienna (Volkskundemuseum Wien), used with permission.
Through this process, “living labour, the ‘subjective being’ par excellence, is turned into a thing among other things, ‘it is merely a value of a particular use value alongside the conditions of its own realization as values of another use value’ ” (De Angelis 2004: 65). Therefore, through primitive accumulation, peasants become workers and labour-power becomes “a thing” (De Angelis 2004: 65). By seeking out how to best modernize the Balkans, Vetter and Haberlandt are both actively participating in the project to “civilize” the Balkans aka to create a separation between people and the modes of production. Anthropometrics While Haberlandt photographed and documented many aspects of Balkan peasant life for the Austrian Museum of Folk Art and Folk Life in Vienna, he is probably most well-known for his anthropometric photographs. Fitting with the paradigm of racist science and eugenics as it had been developing since the turn of the century, Haberlandt took photographs and notes on the physiognomy of people in the Balkans. He would later analyze some of these photographs in the publication “On
Colonial Expedition in the Balkans 287 the Physical Anthropology of Albanians”, co-written by Arthur Haberlandt and Viktor Lebzelter in 1919. This publication was written based on photographs taken of 140 Albanian soldiers, as well as physical data on height and head measurements. The anthropometric photographs taken by Arthur Haberlandt contribute to primitive accumulation by presenting these photographs as evidence of Balkan peasants’ attitudes towards labour, and synthesizing these conclusions into a racial “type”. This racial typology is the foundation of what Cedric Robinson called “racial capitalism” (2020). By producing a racial type of the Albanian peasant man as strong but unruly and sometimes lazy, Haberlandt is not describing but rather inventing a new type of labourer via the European practice of racialization. By the mid- nineteenth century, anthropologists and ethnologists were concerned with making photographs serve as scientific data. Thus, there was an emphasis placed on aspects that could be quantified, classified, and deemed more or less civilized (Edwards 1990: 240). The practice of anthropometric photography was first initiated by Alphonse Bertillon in 1883 as a means to identify criminal recidivists for the Paris prefecture of police. Important for identifying individuals, rather than as racial typology (Morris-Reich 2016: 37). Following Bertillon, Francis Galton, the founder of modern eugenics, established his method of “composite photography” in 1887, when Galton “obtained from the Home Office photographs of convicts that were classified into three groups according to the nature of the crime: murder and manslaughter, felony, and sexual offences” (Morris-Reich 2016: 44). Galton began organizing the individual convicts together in distinct groups according to perceived physiological similarities. Anthropometric photography, as established by Bertillon and Galton, was a way of establishing “types”. Elizabeth Edwards has defined the “type” photograph as a method “which isolates, suppressing context and thus individuality. The specimen is in scientific isolation, physically, and metaphorically, the plain background accentuates physical characteristics and denies context. The meaning and ‘reality’ of the subject can be given only by those who interpret the visual evidence. The appropriation of the subject as a specimen was thus legitimised through science and achieved through the control of another science, photography” (Edwards 1990: 241). Galton’s “composite photography” sought to categorize and typologize the photographed subjects according to the first criminal types, and later racial types. Galton defines race in 1894 as “a large body of more or less similar and related individuals, who are separated from analogous bodies by the rarity of transitional forms”. Galton “employed race as a synonym for variety, genus, or species, and in his later writings, heredity” (Morris-Reich 2016: 44). In the context of the Austro- Hungarian Empire, anthropometric photography earned an esteemed place during the First World War, during which time anthropologists infamously conducted invasive studies on prisoners of war. Anthropometric photography was an integral part of anthropological research in Austria–Hungary during the late-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In her chapter “Large-Scale Anthropological Surveys in Austria-Hungary, 1871–1918”, Margit Berner writes that
288 Christina Novakov-Ritchey From 1915 to 1918, anthropometric measurements of thousands of POWs interned in Austria-Hungary and Germany were carried out by a team led by Rudolf Pöch and his chief assistant Josef Weninger (1886–1959) that eventually included several students. Briefly, Pöch also made ethnographic recordings of songs, even filming dances, but he soon ceded those aspects to the Phonographic Commission of the Academy, preferring to concentrate on his racial research. Rudolf Pöch was one of the key Austrian ethnographers of the time period. Pöch’s work “inspired a wave of wartime anthropometric studies in the Austro-Hungarian Empire”, including studies on Serb, Roma, Sinti, Albanian, and Wolhynian POWs and refugees (Berner 2019: 249). Rudolf Pöch was also one of Arthur Haberlandt’s mentors. Haberlandt used Pöch’s anthropometric measurement guides for his research with Albanian soldiers. Only a few copies of anthropometric notes from the expedition still survive. At the top of the guide there is a place to write which k.u.k. prisoner of war camp the subject resides in. Then there are spaces in which to notate height, hair colour, eye colour, skin colour, head shape, nose shape, shape and size of lips, body hair, body weight, and health, among other physical characteristics. The back side of the measurement guide asks for more precise measurements, for example, the length of the right leg minus the foot, or the morphological face height, to be measured with callipers. These measurement sheets were originally accompanied by several photographs, featuring frontal, profile, and three-quarter profile portrait angles (Figures 15.3 and 15.4).
Figure 15.3 Portraits of Albanian soldiers 1.
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Figure 15.4 Portraits of Albanian soldiers 2. Source: Haberlandt, A. 1916. Photograph, Museum of Folk Life and Folk Art, Vienna (Volkskundemuseum Wien), used with permission.
290 Christina Novakov-Ritchey In Haberlandt’s article “On the Physical Anthropology of Albanians”, co- written with Viktor Lebzelter, Haberlandt gives an extensive statistical overview of the anthropometric measurements that he gathered in the POW camps. Complementing this numerical data, he also makes a few hypotheses regarding the physical condition of the soldiers. Haberlandt describes Albanians as having damaged “powers of resistance”. This “resistance” is a reference to Galton’s intellectual and ideological project of “[constructing] a program of social betterment through breeding” (Sekula 2006: 42). The Albanians lack of “resistance”, in Haberlandt’s eyes, meant that he saw the negative qualities of the population overwhelming the positive ones, which he attributed to “inbreeding, endless war, and the spread of chronic diseases, unhindered by the primitive way of life” in Albania (1919: 125). Haberlandt connected degeneration in Albania to the “sad conditions reported to us by E. Mattanschek from Bosnia and Herzegovina and P. Miljanić from Montenegro” (1919: 125).4 As Alan Sekula has demonstrated, Francis Galton’s eugenic program “pivoted on a profound ideological biologization of existing class relations” (2006: 42). Haberlandt makes this biologization of class relations explicit in his assessment of Albanians from the cities of Kruja, Tirana and Elbasan: “Here...we again encounter that dark type of smaller stature with a straight nose, narrow face and dark –sometimes bulging –eyes. It appears particularly frequently among the bazaar workers, tradesmen, etc., which perhaps also sheds light on its origin (?)” (1919: 132). By connecting class, racial “type”, and physical traits, Haberlandt excellently demonstrates Cedric Robinson’s model of racial capitalism. In Robinson’s words, racialization is “The tendency of European civilization through capitalism was thus not to homogenize but to differentiate –to exaggerate regional, subcultural and dialectical differences into ‘racial’ ones” (Robinson 2020: 26). Haberlandt’s anthropometric photographs, in the context of his larger oeuvre of photographs and writings from his expedition, racialize Albanian, Montenegrin, Bosnian, Romani, Vlach, Serbian, and other populations of the Balkans. Portraying Balkan peoples as being in need of civilizing –which is a thinly disguised rhetoric veil for capitalism –Haberlandt’s photographs point to the bodies of men and women as the labour-power which will enable the establishment of the capitalist relation. Concurrent with Haberlandt’s activities during and after the expedition, the Austrian War Ministry presented the popular “war exhibit” in Vienna. Anthropologists “chose ten plaster casts of heads that were representative of racial ‘types’ found in the camps, with the eyes and faces of the moulds painted in the correct colours for added effect, as well as twelve life-sized photographs of physical ‘types’ hung in full view of the spectators”. Andrew Evans continues, explaining that these “enormous, life-sized images that Pöch and the [Viennese Anthropological Society] contributed to the war exhibit in 1916 and 1917 were nothing less than racial portraits of Austria-Hungary’s European enemies”, including Serbs, Russians, Italians, and others (Evans 2010: 184). James Ryan connects these technologies of racialization to colonial domination:
Colonial Expedition in the Balkans 291 technologies of measuring and comprehending territories and bodies from a distance and a self-effacing perspective are intertwined in processes of colonial vision. Galton objectified and appropriated the woman’s body with what Mary Louise Pratt has termed the ‘land-scanning eye’ of colonial science. (1997: 145) In his analysis of POW racial science during the First World War, Andrew Evans builds on James Ryan’s idea of colonial vision, writing that “they treated the European prisoners like ‘exotic’ colonials and implicitly classified them as racially distinct from Germans” (2010: 178). Ultimately the technology of photography itself was an invaluable tool in this project of racialization (the biologization of class relations). Alan Sekula has captured this capacity to racialize: “photography came to establish and delimit the terrain of the other, to define both the generalized look –the typology –and the contingent instance of deviance and social pathology” (Sekula 2006: 7). Ethnographers and anthropologists played a key role in the continuing renewal of racial capitalism, as they provided the scientific justification for class stratification. The use of photography in particular is especially significant due to its long history as a form of evidence. While Andrew Evans has importantly argued that “under the physiognomic gaze, the body was a legible text that could be read for signs of criminality and immorality” (2010: 159), it is also necessary to understand that through the physiognomic gaze, the body was a legible text to be written, before it could be read. Ethnographers and anthropologists were not “reading” the body, but rather inscribing the body. Racialization is a process of inscription. Compounding the violence of inscription is the violence of “a silence that silences”, which since the early use of photography in criminology, has served to take away “captured” people’s voices, complaints, and refusal (Sekula 2006: 6). Refusal Despite the efforts of Haberlandt and his peers, the project of objectifying Balkan peasants was not without acts of refusal. A striking example of refusal stands out from Arthur Haberlandt’s photographic archive. Haberlandt repeatedly attempts to photograph Albanian women in and near Shkodra, with mixed results. While he does capture the faces of a few women, their expressions are disdainful. The rest of the photographs of Albanian women show them with their faces partially or fully obscured, either by holding something up to their faces or by turning their faces away from the camera. It is likely these photographs were captured without the women’s consent (Figures 15.5 and 15.6). The attempt to photograph these women is an example of extra-military domination. A conscious contributor to the Austro-Hungarian colonial project, Haberlandt seeks to photograph these women in order to know them in order to dominate them: “Knowing and representing the ‘voices’ within those places required more than military might, it required the methods and modalities of knowing, in
292 Christina Novakov-Ritchey
Figure 15.5 Albanian women, turning away from the camera 1.
particular: categorisation, ethnological comparison, linguistic translation and ethnography” (Simpson 2007: 67). In the context of racial capitalism, I identify this relentless pursuit of knowledge as part of what Aileen Moreton-Robinson (2009) has called “epistemological possessiveness” and what Sarita Echavez See has called “knowledge accumulation” (2017). The accumulation of knowledge as capital, for See, is a necessary revision to Marx’s theory of primitive accumulation. Reading these photographs as protests against objectification and the invasion of the body’s boundaries exemplifies what Ariella Azoulay has referred to as the “civil contract of photography”, or the capacity of photographs to call out to us (the viewers) in the present to take just action (2008). By averting their gazes and covering their faces, these women refuse capture by the Austrian ethnographer. While photographs attempt to speak for the people photographed, these women refuse to allow that to happen. Instead of the researcher speaking for the photographed, the photographed speak for the researcher to inform us of the lack of scholarly ethics. The women tell us now that these photographs were captured without consent. Audra Simpson recognizes the perversity of the politics of recognition in colonial contexts. Early anthropologists in collaboration with the military studied Indigenous peoples in North America and invented an image of them as historical
Colonial Expedition in the Balkans 293
Figure 15.6 Albanian women, turning away from the camera 2. Source: Haberlandt, A. 1916. Photograph, Museum of Folk Life and Folk Art, Vienna (Volkskundemuseum Wien), used with permission.
and unchanging. These colonial visions of atemporal, tradition-bound Indigenous peoples “are incompatible with sovereign subjectivity” (Simpson 2007: 71). People of the past are not able to govern themselves within colonial epistemology. The Albanian women who hide their faces from Haberlandt’s lens retain some limited sovereignty through their acts of refusal. Their faces cannot be looked upon again and again ad infinitum by imperial officials nor in an archival reading room. They are illegible as evidence of civilizational backwardness or as evidence of potential exploitation. For these women, refusing legibility also means refusing accumulation. Arthur Haberlandt can attempt to write in passivity to facilitate the primitive accumulation process, however, Azoulay’s civil contract ruptures this illusion as we are called to witness their act of refusal in the present. Notes 1 k.u.k. (imperial and royal) refers to the Dual Monarchy of Austria–Hungary from 1867 to 1918. k.k. (imperial-royal) refers to the Habsburg Empire before 1867 and to the Austrian part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire 1867–1918.
294 Christina Novakov-Ritchey 2 All translations are the author’s unless otherwise stated. 3 Where necessary, present-day city names have been used in-line, while historical names used by Haberlandt have been included in parentheses. 4 Eugenics and racial hygiene discourse were not foreign to the Balkans, see the work of Maria Bucur, Marius Turda, Christian Promitzer, Sevasti Trubeta, Rory Yeomans, and others.
References Allan S (2006) The Body and the Archive. In: Surveillance, Crime and Social Control. New York: Routledge, pp. 321–382. DOI: 10.4324/9781315242002-17 Azoulay A (2008) The Civil Contract of Photography (trans. R Mazali and R Danieli). New York: Zone Books. Berner M (2019) Large-Scale Anthropological Surveys in Austria-Hungary, 1871–1918. In: Marchetti C, Scheer M, and Johler R (eds) Doing Anthropology in Wartime and War Zones. Bielefeld: transcript Verlag, pp. 233–254. DOI: 10.1515/9783839414224-012 Bockhorn O (1988) Zur Geschichte der Volkskunde an der Universität Wien. Von den Anfängen bis 1939. In: Lehmann A and Kuntz A (eds) Sichtweisen Der Volkskunde: Zur Geschichte Und Forschungspraxis Einer Disziplin, Gerhard Lutz Zum 60. Geburtstag (= Lebensformen, Bd. 3). Berlin: Reimer, pp. 63–83. De Angelis M (2004) Separating the Doing and the Deed: Capital and the Continuous Character of Enclosures. Historical materialism: research in critical Marxist theory 12(2). The Netherlands: Brill: 57–87. DOI: 10.1163/1569206041551609 Detrez R (2002a) Colonialism in the Balkans. Historic realities and contemporary perceptions.pdf. Available at: www.kakanien-revisited.at/beitr/theorie/RDetrez1.pdf (accessed 27 February 2022). Detrez R (2002b) Colonialism in the Balkans: Historic realities and contemporary perceptions. Kakanien revisited: 4. Doja A (2014) From the German-speaking point of view: Unholy Empire, Balkanism, and the culture circle particularism of Albanian studies. Critique of Anthropology 34(3): 290–326. Donia RJ (1981) Islam under the Double Eagle: The Muslims of Bosnia and Hercegovina, 1878-1914. East European monographs 78. Boulder: East European Quarterly. Du Bois WEB (1943) The Realities in Africa: European Profit or Negro Development? Foreign Affairs 21(4). Council on Foreign Relations: 721–732. DOI: 10.2307/20029790 Edwards E (1990) Photographic “types”: The pursuit of method. Visual anthropology 3(2– 3). Chur: Taylor & Francis Group: 235–258. DOI: 10.1080/08949468.1990.9966534 Evans AD (2010) Anthropology at War: World War I and the Science of Race in Germany. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Gingrich A (2007) Liberalism in Imperial Anthropology: Notes on an Implicit Paradigm in Continental European Anthropology before World War I. Ab imperio 2007(1). Ab Imperio: 224–239. DOI: 10.1353/imp.2007.0108 Haberlandt A (1917) Kulturwissenschaftliche Beiträge zur Volkskunde von Montenegro, Albanien und Serbien. Ergebnisse einer Forschungsreise in den von den k.u. k. Truppen besetzten gebieten. Sommer 1916. Vienna: Verein für österreichische Volkskunde. Haberlandt A and Lebzelter V (1919) Zur physischen Anthropologie der Albanesen. Archiv für Anthropologie 17: 123–154. Hajdarpasic E (2015) Whose Bosnia?: Nationalism and Political Imagination in the Balkans, 1840–1914. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
Colonial Expedition in the Balkans 295 Hobsbawm EJ (1987) The Age of Empire, 1875-1914. 1st American ed. History of civilization. New York: Pantheon Books. Johler B (2020) Arthur Haberlandt. Available at: www.lexikon-provenienzforschung.org/en/ haberlandt-arthur (accessed 27 February 2022). Marchetti C (2007) Scientists with Guns. On the Ethnographic Exploration of the Balkans by Austrian-Hungarian Scientists before and During World War I. Ab imperio 2007(1). Ab Imperio: 165–190. DOI: 10.1353/imp.2007.0068 Marchetti C (2010) Austro-Hungarian Volkskunde at War: Scientists on Ethnographic Mission in World War I. In: Marchetti C, Scheer M, and Johler R (eds) Doing Anthropology in Wartime and War Zones. Bielefeld: transcript Verlag, pp. 207–230. DOI: 10.14361/ 9783839414224-011 Marchetti C (2013) Balkanexpedition: die Kriegserfahrung der österreichischen Volkskunde – eine historisch-ethnographische Erkundung / Christian Marchetti. Untersuchungen des Ludwig- Uhland- Instituts der Universität Tübingen; Bd. 112. Tübingen: Tübinger Vereinigung für Volkskunde e.V. Marx K (1967) Capital: A Critique of Political Economy (ed. F Engels). New World paperbacks. New York: International Publishers. Mayer AJ (1981) The Persistence of the Old Regime: Europe to the Great War. 1st ed. New York: Pantheon Books. Moreton-Robinson A (2009) White possession: the legacy of Cook’s choice. In: Summo- O’Connell R (ed.) Imagined Australia: Reflections around the Reciprocal Construction of Identity between Australia and Europe. Switzerland: Peter Lang Publishing, pp. 27–42. Available at: www.peterlang.com/index.cfm?vID=430008&vLang=E&vHR=1&vUR= 2&vUUR=1 (accessed 27 February 2022). Morris-Reich A (2016) Race and Photography: Racial Photography as Scientific Evidence, 1876-1980. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Available at: https://press.uchic ago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/R/bo22228704.html (accessed 27 February 2022). Okey R (2007) Taming Balkan Nationalism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Olaf Bockhorn and James R Dow (2017) The Study of European Ethnology in Austria. Progress in European Ethnology. New York: Taylor and Francis. DOI: 10.4324/ 9781315236902 Promitzer C (2019) “Betwixt and Between”: Physical Anthropology in Bulgaria and Serbia until the End of the First World War. In: Marchetti C, Scheer M, and Johler R (eds) Doing Anthropology in Wartime and War Zones. Bielefeld: Verlag, pp. 141–166. DOI: 10.14361/ 9783839414224-008 Reynolds-Cordileone D (2015) Displaying Bosnia: Imperialism, Orientalism, and Exhibitionary Cultures in Vienna and Beyond: 1878–1914. Austrian History Yearbook 46. Cambridge University Press: 29–50. DOI: 10.1017/S0067237814000083 Robinson CJ (2020) Black Marxism: The Making of the Black Radical Tradition. 3rd ed. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press. Ryan JR (1997) Picturing Empire: Photography and the Visualization of the British Empire. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. See SE (2017) The Filipino Primitive: Accumulation and Resistance in the American Museum. New York: New York University Press. DOI: 10.18574/9781479887699 Sekula A (2006) The Body and the Archive. In: Surveillance, Crime and Social Control. New York: Routledge, pp. 321–382. DOI: 10.4324/9781315242002-17 Simpson A (2007) On ethnographic refusal: Indigeneity, “voice” and colonial citizenship. Junctures 9: 67–80.
296 Christina Novakov-Ritchey Vetter A (1911) über eine Studienreise nach Bosnien und der Herzegowina (September- Oktober 1910), erstattet von Hofrat Dr. A. Vetter, Direktor des k. k. Gewerbeförderungs- Antes. Vienna: k. k. Gewerbeförderungs-Antes. Villari L (1902) Austria-Hungary’s Colonial Experiment. The Monthly Review 8: 72–87. Werlhof C von (1988) On the concept of nature and society in capitalism. In: Women: The Last Colony. London: Zed Books, pp. 96–112.
16 Colonies in Interwar Europe? The Balkan Communist Parties as Precursors of Anticolonialism Stefan Gužvica1
Introduction Writing a critique of the Comintern Program passed at its Sixth Congress in 1928, the exiled communist oppositionist Vladimir Smirnov (2011) concluded: the matter under these conditions lies not with the class struggle of the proletariat of the advanced countries, but in the defence of backward countries from exploitation by the advanced ... Not a socialist revolution in the advanced countries, but war of liberation of the “global countryside” against the “world city” (see draft program) with the USSR at the head of this “global village” –this is what Bukharin dangles for. Those who did not share the outlook of the Left Opposition looked at the matter more favourably. Today, the Comintern’s activity in the “Third Period” from 1928 until 1935 is considered one of the fundamental formative moments in the development of Third-Worldism and anticolonial struggles (Prashad 2008: 16– 30). Sometimes, the Third-Worldists of the Cold War era would directly resurrect Comintern slogans and policies (Rodriguez-Morazzani 1998: 41). In general, communist activity in anticolonial struggles has been well-covered by historiography in the past several decades (Pennybacker 2009; Boittin 2010; Petersson 2013; Louro et al. 2020). However, one space occasionally identified by the Comintern as colonial has escaped the attention of historians. That is because we do not usually think of looking for colonies on the European continent. Nevertheless, there was a period when the Balkans were seen by the Third International as a region of colonies, or at least “semi-colonies”. Moreover, the communist analysis of the Balkans in the 1920s and 1930s shows a certain overlap with the school of thought in contemporary academia known as “decoloniality”. This chapter will show how the Balkans came to be defined as (semi-)colonial spaces in Marxist analyses, and what insights decolonial thought can gain from such interpretations. Moreover, it will argue against an anti-Marxist conception of decoloniality, which sees Marx’s thought as yet another expression of Eurocentrism. Instead, I will show how it was precisely Marxism that gave the European periphery the tools to articulate its subaltern position. DOI: 10.4324/9781003246848-22
298 Stefan Gužvica Maria Todorova has recently argued that the development of Marxism in agrarian countries of the Balkans was analogous to its advent in the countries of the so-called Third World. She noted the similarity of analyses articulated by the Bulgarian socialists she researched and later postcolonial theory, but noted that “[t]his is not to minimise the fundamental contribution of postcolonial theory as a critique of Marxist teleological developmentalism” (Todorova 2020: 76). This chapter will further elaborate on her perspective by looking at the theoretical debates within the communist movement in the 1920s. I will begin by briefly explaining decoloniality, and examining the perception of the Balkans as a colonized space in the era of the Second International. From there, I will present the political strategy of the Balkan communists, developed in the early 1920s around the tripartite alliance of workers, peasants, and oppressed nations. By the late 1920s, this strategy would evolve into debates on whether or not the Balkan Peninsula was a colonial space. This culminated in debates on “stagism”, when the Balkan communists argued whether their incoming revolution would be socialist or bourgeois-democratic. The reverberations of these interwar policies and theories were substantial: Socialist Yugoslavia would go on to play a significant role in supporting many anticolonial movements, as well as establishing the Non-Aligned Movement alongside the newly independent countries of Asia and Africa; Ceausescu’s Romania would claim that it was colonized until 1945 to secure its international status as a “developing country;” and the Balkan communists of the 1920s would build solidarity with the far-away anticolonial movements in China and Africa. Moreover, the analysis of “colonialism” would play an important role in the nation- building projects of the Balkans, frequently undertaken by the communists and their affiliates. Marxism and decoloniality in the periphery When Austria-Hungary annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1908, the Serbian Social Democratic Party submitted a memorandum to the Socialist International denouncing this as an act of colonialism (Pijade 1950b: 85). These were not mere nationalist antics of the kind that the Second International would become famous for in 1914: the Serbian socialists also actively fought against their own country’s militarism, and openly stated that the solution for Bosnia was not its conquest by the Serbian monarchy, but revolution (Britovšek 1965: 96). The socialists’ proclaimed ultimate goal was the creation of a Balkan federation, which would simultaneously neutralize both local nationalisms and external ambitions of the great powers. In 1910, the opening of the Resolution of the First Balkan Social Democratic Conference described the situation in the peninsula as one of the divisions artificially created by the European powers, “which hinder the modern economic and cultural development of the peoples, and are most sharply opposed to their interests and their needs” (Plavšić and Živković 2003: 164–165). The authors of the resolution, signed by Bosnian, Bulgarian, Croatian, Macedonian, Montenegrin, Serbian, and Slovenian social democrats, as well as representatives for Istanbul and Romania, had clearly been familiar with the theories of imperialism which were
Colonies in Interwar Europe? 299 gaining traction at the time. The reason for Great Power involvement, according to the resolution, was the diminishing amount of uncolonized land to be carved up by empires, because of which, in order to invest the surplus from the exploitation of the proletariat at home, [European capitalism] covetously attacked agrarian countries that were industrially backward and politically submissive. By way of interest payments on loans and superprofits from capital invested in enterprises enjoying unlimited concessions, trade agreements and a web of customs tariffs, European capitalism drew the Balkans and the countries and peoples of south-eastern Europe into the scope of its capitalist exploitation, exhausting their economic forces and preventing their development and progress, and imperilling their very survival. (Plavšić and Živković 2003: 165) The resolution of the Balkan Marxists, however, did not have a label for the situation that their countries had found themselves in. However, there were some exceptions. Dimitrije Tucović, the Serbian party theoretician who also penned the 1908 Memorandum, called it a “colonial economic relationship”, and Leon Trotsky, who was well-acquainted with the region, considered it a colonized space (Plavšić and Živković 2003: 170; Trockij 2011: 21–22). Yet, a more profound study of the position of the Balkan states in the global economic system did not take place before First World War. Perhaps the closest equivalent was a book by the Romanian theoretician Constantin Dobrogeanu-Gherea, called “Neo-Serfdom”, published in 1910. Gherea’s book dealt with how the arrival of capitalism had served to reinforce or restore feudal social structures in the Romanian countryside, and is considered to have been a forerunner of the theory of uneven and combined development (Boatcă 2005: 3–14). However, Gherea did not entertain the possibility that his country might have been a colony. The paradigm shift came with First World War and the advent of communism. In April 1917, Vladimir Ilyich Lenin published his Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism, which would become the authoritative theoretical piece on the topic for Balkan social democrats, most of whom would end up forming the parties of the Communist International. In it, Lenin first introduced the term “semi-colony”. It was used to describe underdeveloped countries which were nominally independent but became practically subjected to the financial capital of the imperialist powers. They were not colonized by the imperialist country, but were effectively gradually losing their sovereignty, and their prospects for independent development were, in Lenin’s view, rather grim: “semicolonial” states ... provide an example of the transitional forms which are to be found in all spheres of nature and society. Finance capital is such a great, such a decisive, you might say, force in all economic and in all international relations, that it is capable of subjecting, and actually does subject to itself even states enjoying the fullest political independence; we shall shortly see examples of this. Of course, finance capital finds most “convenient,” and
300 Stefan Gužvica derives the greatest profit from, a form of subjection which involves the loss of the political independence of the subjected countries and peoples. In this respect, the semicolonial countries provide a typical example of the “middle stage”. It is natural that the struggle for these semi-dependent countries should have become particularly bitter in the epoch of finance capital, when the rest of the world has already been divided up. (Lenin 1999: 86) In 1916, Lenin used the examples of Persia, China, and Turkey as semi-colonies, claiming that the former “is already almost completely a colony”, while the second and third were on the way to becoming them (Lenin 1999: 85). Moreover, he distinguished other forms of dependence of nominally independent states, which, like semi- colonies, are neither imperialist nor colonized. There, he mentions Argentina and Portugal as examples of the dominance of the British capital. He points out that Argentina’s dependence is more commercial, whereas Portugal’s is geopolitical, but he does not come up with explicit new categorizations of such states (Lenin 1999: 89). The theoretical framework articulated by Lenin would subsequently have a major impact on the Balkan communists, who would come to define their states as semi-colonies: entities that had gained independence in the nineteenth century, but whose sovereignty had since been effectively overruled by the dominance of financial capital. Rather than being a passive admission of an idea from Russia, the concept of semi-colonies was merely Lenin’s naming of a phenomenon that had already been observed by Balkan Marxists. The fact that their analyses converged certainly helped the spread of Bolshevism in the Balkans, but the articulation of communism in the region was not a one-way process of imposition: as we have seen, certain Balkan thinkers and political parties already described their countries’ positions as colonial even before Lenin had written his seminal work. More significantly for this study, the analysis made by Balkan Marxists in the early twentieth century shows complementarity with the contemporary idea of decoloniality. This is not to say that their approach was decolonial in the epistemological sense. The Balkan Marxists did not, like Walter Mignolo, consider Marxism a “secular imperial ideology” (Mignolo 2011: 63). Instead, it is complementary to decoloniality as an emancipatory project, one which focuses not only on the superstructure but also on the base: not on the episteme, but on the material conditions of dependence (Ndlovu-Gatsheni and Ndlovu 2022: 20). Here, decoloniality’s insights about the persisting structures of oppression are crucial: they show that legal, internationally recognized political independence does not equal sovereignty –a conclusion that the Balkan Marxists had reached through the immediate experience of societies they inhabited in the early twentieth century. Likewise, Lenin’s conception of the semi-colony should be read as a crucial theoretical contribution to understanding persistent structures of dependence under conditions of capitalism and imperialism. However, Lenin’s analysis was quite rudimentary, and he did not elaborate on semi-colonies much in his subsequent works. The elaboration, which
Colonies in Interwar Europe? 301 was the work of other Bolshevik theoreticians, as well as Balkan communists, would be the subject of the following sections. Granted, the peripheral Balkan countries in the nineteenth century were liberated from feudalism, rather than colonialism; but at the end of this “liberation”, they found structural dependence on foreign capital which seemed to them very much akin to colonialism. The Serbian Social Democratic Party (SSDP) is perhaps the best example of this awareness, because of its ambiguity towards historical processes conventionally understood by Marxism as antifeudal. In 1912, when Serbia, in an alliance with other Balkan countries, invaded and occupied the remaining European territories of the Ottoman Empire, the Marxist response should have been to welcome this as a liberatory act. After all, the Balkan states were ending the reign of a feudal empire on the peninsula. However, the SSDP showed a profound ambiguity towards the “liberation” of Macedonia and Kosovo by the Serbian, Bulgarian, Greek, and Montenegrin troops. Even while seeing the Ottoman Empire as feudal, they could not but notice that the alliance was the product of Russian imperial ambitions, and they eventually decided to take a stance against the war (Dimitrijević 1982: 204–208). In their view, antifeudalism had already become inextricably linked to imperialist interests in the case of the Balkans. In his speeches to the National Assembly criticizing the war, the leading theoretician of the SSDP, Dragiša Lapčević, drew explicit distinctions between “the Balkans” and “Europe”, and identified the intentions of the latter towards the former as colonial (Dimitrijević 1982: 205–206). Rather than being an expression of supposedly Eurocentric tendencies, Marxism had provided the Balkan socialists with a language that enabled them to articulate and criticize continued dependence on Europe, and to propose an alternative emancipatory project, that of Balkan federalism. Sabelo J. Ndlovu-Gatsheni and Morgan Ndlovu have described this kind of thinking as “a well-thought-out move by colonised and peripheralized people to engage their time in their own terms, and even European thought in their own terms, yet drawing on diverse traditions of knowledge including Marxism” (2022: 20). In fact, by opposing the First Balkan War, the Serbian socialists showed the ability to read Marx in a non-dogmatic way, and to question the simplistic linear idea of progress characteristic of the Enlightenment and many of Marx’s followers, although criticized by Marx himself (Postone 1993: 36). From the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina to the conquest of Kosovo and Macedonia, they questioned not only the jingoism of their own ruling class but also the imperialist and colonial apologia of Marxists in the countries of the capitalist centre.2 Finally, the concept of “coloniality” as “the historical, structural, and heterogeneous modern totality governing all aspects and dimensions of human social existence” (Ndlovu-Gatsheni and Ndlovu 2022: 21) shows remarkable similarities with how Balkan Marxists perceived their societies in the early twentieth century. Compare the definition of coloniality with Gherea’s claim that Backward countries enter into the orbit of advanced capitalist countries, they move in the orbit of these countries, and their whole life, development, and
302 Stefan Gužvica social evolution are determined by the life and movement of advanced countries and the historical epoch in which they exist –by the era of bourgeois capitalism. (Kitch 1977: 74) For Gherea, as an Orthodox Marxist, the solution was to embrace this condition, and to work towards bringing about capitalist modernity which ought to resolve the problems of underdevelopment. However, the break of the October Revolution ushered in the potential of an alternative modernity –one that is Marxist, but not Eurocentric, and for which decolonization and breaking with semi-colonial dependence were among the fundamental political goals. The triple alliance How was this alternative modernity to be brought about? The answer of the Balkan Marxists was not to presume a straight teleological path leading to capitalism and then to communism, as was the case with the Orthodox interpretations such as the one championed by Dobrogeanu-Gherea. In fact, the Orthodox Marxist analysis, articulated by the theoreticians of the Social Democratic Party of Germany (SPD), turned out to be rather inapplicable in the periphery. The SPD and the leading “Western” theoreticians of Marxism, in general, did not have to deal with majority- peasant countries. While Marx and Engels did have certain remarks on the topic, they saw the proletariat as the class destined to be the driving force of progress towards communism. There was no elaborate answer about what to do in countries that did not have a proletarian majority, aside from waiting for them to reach advanced capitalism, as Gherea had also argued. In some parties, the Orthodoxy on this topic was so strong that they actively refused cooperation with the peasantry. When the SSDP entered the Serbian Parliament in the 1912 election, they felt their success was tainted by the fact that most of their votes came from the peasants, rather than the workers in urban centres (Bogdanović 1989: 43). Others, however, embraced the peasantry as a significant and potentially progressive political force in the periphery. A pioneer in this matter was a little-known Romanian Marxist called Eugen Rozvan (Jenő Rozvány). In 1907, he called upon the social democrats to collaborate with the peasantry, and to work with the national minority parties as the representatives of the peasants’ class interests. His essay was so controversial that the party leadership in Budapest prefaced it with a disclaimer distancing themselves from the author’s views, and going as far as to call them class collaboration, despite considering Rozvan’s work a valuable theoretical input (Rozvány 1906–07: 513–514). Dimităr Blagoev, the theoretical leader of the Bulgarian socialists, went even further. In his analysis of the Young Turk Revolution of 1908, he called it a “feudal- bourgeois revolution” (Plavšić and Živković 2003: 110). This unusual phrasing is not a sign of ignorance of Marxist theory. Rather, it is a display of the profound awareness of the contradictions of underdevelopment in the capitalist periphery. One could even call it an example of what Mignolo has termed “epistemic disobedience” –a subversive de-linking from the meanings in the established European
Colonies in Interwar Europe? 303 canon (Mignolo 2011: 45). Such a subversion, of course, is not merely verbal – Blagoev used it to describe very specific material conditions. In underdeveloped Turkey, the democratic revolution began not as a revolt of the urban bourgeoisie, which was too weak, numerically and financially, for such a feat. Rather, it was a revolt of the dissatisfied elements in the army and the state bureaucracy. As people with a vested interest in the Ottoman state, they understood the only way to preserve the Empire was to radically transform its ossified system. However, their “feudal-bourgeois revolution” was also self-limiting, as it was a bourgeois revolution conducted by the feudal class, which still sought to preserve the unsalvageable ancien regime. In response, Blagoev reached a conclusion similar to Rozvan’s, but far more radical. The bourgeois revolution in Turkey would have to be completed by the urban proletariat in an alliance with the peasantry. Like Rozvan/Rozvány, Blagoev concluded that the phenomenon of peasant nationalism actually has roots in class dissatisfaction, but is manifested as a national struggle due to the ethnicized nature of nascent capitalism in the periphery (Plavšić and Živković 2003: 87–88, 112). This set the stage for a triple alliance of the proletariat, peasantry, and the movements deemed “national-revolutionary”. After 1917, this alliance would become the basis of communist policy in the periphery. Lenin reached virtually the same conclusion on the alliance with the peasantry: that it was necessary because the contemporary political alignment of capitalism would result in “two levels of revolution: socialist ones against imperialist regimes and, democratic ones against both imperialist and traditional regimes” (Lih 2015: 406). This was identical to Trotsky’s idea of “the permanent revolution”, elaborated before he joined the Bolsheviks, which also stated that the bourgeois-democratic revolution in the periphery would be conducted by the proletariat, thus growing into a socialist revolution (Löwy 2010). To achieve this in countries where the proletariat was in the minority, the triple alliance was absolutely necessary. The Bolshevik who elaborated the application of this theory to the Balkans, however, was neither Lenin nor Trotsky, but Lev Kamenev, their close associate. In his little-known 1916 study, “Imperialism and the Balkan Republic”, he made it clear that the Balkan peninsula does not have to face an inevitable development of capitalist relations identical to those in Western Europe. If anything, he demonstrated that such a thing is difficult, if not outright impossible. From that premise, he did something far more ground-breaking. Kamenev emphasized the complementarity (but not equivalence) of the situation in Central Europe and the Balkans to the non-European colonies, and claimed that they have a new set of “objective tasks” now that they have been “drawn into the whirlpool of [world historical] events, without fully ridding themselves of the precapitalist stages of economic development” (Kamenev 1919: 6). Kamenev’s pamphlet is an argument in favour of a Marxist slogan of national self-determination, not only applicable outside of Europe, but within Europe as well, namely in its “backward”, Central, Eastern, and Southeastern parts. There, too, the national liberation movements, as peasant movements, could play a progressive role in the case of a proletarian revolution.
304 Stefan Gužvica In the era of the Communist International, convinced of the fact of capitalism’s inevitable and imminent decline, the Balkan Marxists elaborated on this analysis. For many of them, Bolshevism provided a coherent and successful theory that neatly responded to the shortcomings they observed in Orthodox Marxism until 1914. Moreover, the Russian Revolution opened the door to an alternative modernity. As early as 1919, the newly established Bulgarian Communist Party (BKP) concluded that the World War had cemented the colonial position of “small and backward peoples”, and that their revolutionary movements, “beginning as national, inevitably become social revolutions”. They also clearly adopted the distinction between colonies and semi-colonies, showing an explicit acceptance of Lenin’s theory of imperialism (Kommunističeskij internacional 1919/4: 507). The Marxism of the Balkans was going to be one that responds to the particular problems of the periphery, instead of a mechanical application of theories written for industrialized countries of Western Europe, as was characteristic of pre-1914 social democracy. (Semi-)Colonies in the Balkans The application of Marxism in Southeastern Europe, however, would remain purely theoretical for at least two more decades. The defeat of the revolutions in Germany, Italy, and Hungary had left Soviet Russia isolated and made chances for a successful revolutionary upheaval in the Balkans quite low. The first response to the revolutionary retreat would be the United Front policy, articulated in 1921 and 1922 around political cooperation with the reformist left (McDermott and Agnew 1997: 27–40). In the Balkans, this policy meant the formation of the triple alliance, based on the platform of the right to self-determination until secession. Its main vehicle was the Balkan Communist Federation (BCF), an umbrella organization of parties established in Sofia in 1920. The BCF sought the establishment of a Balkan Soviet Federative Socialist Republic but also coordinated work with the national-revolutionary and agrarian organizations in the Balkans. Vasil Kolarov, one of the leaders of the BKP and the BCF, became the general secretary of the Comintern in 1922 (Marinov and Vezenkov 2013: 507). This is perhaps the finest illustration of how seriously the International took the project of establishing the alliance of workers, peasants, and national revolutionaries in the European periphery. However, after a right-wing coup in Bulgaria in 1923 shattered all hopes of a successful communist revolt in the Balkans,3 the International embarked on an even bigger retreat, announcing a temporary stabilization of capitalism. Nevertheless, stabilization was also seen as a preparation for a new revolutionary offensive. Marxist politicians in the Balkans used the calm to develop new theories of underdevelopment and dependency. The clear-cut division into imperialist, semi-colonial, and colonial states was crystallized precisely during the period between 1925 and 1928, when the communists grew increasingly concerned about the growing influence of great powers on new minor states formed in Europe, seen primarily as a part of establishing a Cordon sanitaire against the USSR.
Colonies in Interwar Europe? 305 The most systematic theorization came in the work of Nikolai Bukharin, who was already the party’s foremost theoretician of imperialism while Lenin was alive. Preparing for the Sixth Comintern Congress, Bukharin created a categorization of capitalist states in the world based on their levels of development and their position in the global system. The general tactics of the International were to be decided in accordance with his theoretical model. Bukharin distinguished three types of capitalist states: the highly developed, the medium developed, and the colonies and semi-colonies (as a single category, implying they were functionally indistinguishable). The highly developed states were characterized by increasingly centralized production, a minor role of small-scale agriculture, and the completion of the “bourgeois-democratic” stage of the revolution. These countries were frequently imperialist (per Leninist definition) and owned colonies. Bukharin used Britain, the United States, and Germany as examples. The medium-developed countries, in his view, were those characterized by “semi-feudal remnants” in agriculture, present but nevertheless comparatively minor industrial development, and an “incomplete bourgeois-democratic transformation”. He used Poland and pre-1917 Russia to illustrate his point. Finally, Bukharin saw colonies and semi-colonies as countries with rudimentary industries, marked by the dominance of “feudal-medieval relations” in both economics and “the political superstructure”. Moreover, in these states, the most important industrial, banking, commercial, and transport facilities were in the hands of the capitalist states or private individuals from their ruling class. He used the examples of China and India, considering the former a semi- colony and the latter a colony (Komintern 1929a: 180–181). These different types of states required an application of different communist tactics: the highly developed countries were, in Bukharin’s view, on the verge of a proletarian revolution, rendering any collaboration with either reformist socialists or the bourgeois parties meaningless, and even harmful. In the medium-developed states, the situation was supposed to closely follow the Russian scenario: a democratic revolution, resulting in the inability of the nation’s weak bourgeoisie to complete it, only to be followed by a worker-peasant revolution and the establishment of soviets. The colonial and semi-colonial states, however, had different axes of struggle: the agrarian revolution against the feudal structures, and a national revolution against the colonial or imperial metropolis. Notably, Bukharin dedicated the most attention precisely to this aspect of the struggle, although he emphasized the leading role of external proletarian dictatorships when it came to transforming the colonies towards socialism (Komintern 1929a: 181–182). Without such a transformation, their revolution would remain “only” bourgeois-democratic. Bukharin’s draft program did not mention the Balkan states, although it appeared that they were supposed to be placed in the second category of medium-developed countries. After all, Poland was geographically, economically, and politically closest to the Balkans, and they seemed to fit the same description. However, the situation was not so straightforward. Due to foreign involvement in the Balkans, the communists began raising serious doubts about their countries as “medium developed”, with some leaning towards the idea of semi-colonialism or even colonialism. This view became increasingly common from 1926, when Italians
306 Stefan Gužvica took control of Albanian ports, air travel, oil extraction, and the national bank, resulting in a virtually complete submission of the Albanian state to Italy. The word used at the time, however, was not “colony” but “protectorate” (Ter Minassian 2003: 67). At roughly the same time, the Third Congress of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia explicitly noted that the country was becoming “colonised” by financial capital of developed states (Vujošević and Gligorijević 1986: 138). In December of that same year, the Seventh Extended Plenum of the ECCI saw the development of two different tendencies, which would debate each other in the Comintern and its journals over the following years. One of them considered the Balkan states to be medium developed, the other semi-colonial. The first group was close to Bukharin and its main theoretical exponent would be the Polish communist Tomasz Dąbal, the head of the Peasant International (Krestintern) (Komintern 1927: 193–194). The second was represented by Vasil Kolarov, who argued that “stabilisation in the Balkans is tantamount to colonisation” (Komintern 1927: 234). Both groups agreed that capitalist stabilization was temporary, but only the latter argued that it was fundamentally changing the character of Balkan states. In Kolarov’s words, the penetration of foreign capital is carried out by using colonial methods. It puts its hand onto natural resources which make up the basis of the national economy of those countries, receives free concessions, establishes banks that deal exclusively in speculation and buying up the means of production. The end result is that these states are gradually turned into colonies of foreign capital. (Komintern 1927: 231) Dąbal’s position, however, also had traction in the Balkans, mostly among the members of the leadership of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia (KPJ). They thought that the foreign “colonisation” of Balkan countries was exaggerated, and that in any case a distinction should be made between those states aligned with the Versailles order, such as Yugoslavia, and the “losers” of the new order like Bulgaria. Moreover, they claimed that Kolarov’s theory was implying that the proletariat of the Balkans was unable to successfully conduct a revolution without foreign assistance (Komintern 1927: 308–309). However, it appears that even this more cautious group considered at least Albania to have already become a colony of Italy (P. L., 1927, 731).4 Despite strong support from Bulgarian communists, views of the group closer to Bukharin and Dąbal remained dominant, reaching their apogee in the summer of 1928, at the Sixth Comintern Congress. In the Comintern program, the Balkan states were ultimately described as “countries at the mid-level of capitalist development” rather than as “colonial and semi- colonial countries” (Komintern 1929c: 37). This was, in effect, a confirmation of Bukharin’s intellectual and political dominance of the International, which was to last only for another several months. Kolarov, ever sensitive to which way the wind was blowing in Moscow, sided with Bukharin, and was actually the one who insisted on adding the Balkan states into the definition, as far better representatives of “mid-level capitalist development” than Poland. He did, however, leave room
Colonies in Interwar Europe? 307 for a broader interpretation, as he emphasized (quite correctly) that places such as Bosnia, Macedonia, and the Albanian-majority parts of Yugoslavia had not yet had their “agrarian revolution” (Komintern 1929a: 106–107). The Greek delegates also insisted on the “mid-level” classification for their country, and the consensus among Balkan communists was seemingly reached for the time being (Komintern 1929a: 155). Despite this consensus, a questioning of Comintern policy in the Balkans nevertheless took place at the Congress, albeit from a rather unexpected place. A Colombian delegate, Jorge E. Cardenas, expressed his disbelief that a country like Argentina would be designated as a “semi-colony”, when it exercises far greater freedom in both internal and foreign affairs than the supposedly “medium developed” countries of the Balkans (Komintern 1929b: 436–437). However, the most comprehensive critique of the Comintern program came from a Czechoslovak communist called Ivan Mondok. A Rusyn by nationality who hailed from Carpathian Ruthenia, Mondok was a typical revolutionary from the imperial borderlands for whom social and national liberation blended together. He was radicalized as a Russian POW on the Eastern Front, and went on to partake in both the Russian and Hungarian revolutions. After the failure of the Hungarian Soviet Republic, he permanently settled in Czechoslovakia, and led the party’s Ruthenian section. Mondok would be the first to suggest at the highest decision-making body of the Comintern that there may in fact be colonies within Europe. Mondok pointed out the necessity of engaging with the fact that most European countries designated as “medium developed” have major problems with ethnic oppression. The states created in the wake of the downfall of empires were all very heterogeneous, and the dominant ethnic groups had rather slim absolute majorities, or were, as in the case of Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia, pluralities (Komintern 1929b: 364). It is important to note that such an analysis of the two states also stemmed from the fact that he considered them to be Czech-and Serb-dominated, respectively, and did not consider the Slovaks, Croats, and Slovenes equal to the dominant ethnicities. In Mondok’s view, these states were more aptly described as “semi-colonies and conqueror-states” which, while semi-colonial themselves, held territories that could be considered colonies in Europe (Komintern 1929b: 363). These states were simultaneously dependent on imperialist powers, and conquerors of territories dominated by “foreign” ethnicities. Mondok provided a very detailed list of such colonized areas: Croatia, Bessarabia, Western Ukraine, Western Belarus, Bukovina, Dobruja, Transylvania, Carpathian Ukraine, Slovakia, Slovenia, and Vojvodina. He also outlined an entire list of measures considered “colonial:” moving factories from highly developed newly conquered areas to the “metropolis;” assimilationist cultural policies; and a greater tax burden on the peasantry inhabiting the regions conquered in 1918 (Komintern 1929b: 364–366). It appears that Mondok’s intervention went unaddressed at the time, but his theory would gain traction over the following years. The Eighth Balkan Communist Conference, which immediately followed the Sixth Congress, seems to have taken the cue from some of the critics of Bukharin’s model. In the final resolution, contrary to the Comintern decisions, the Balkan
308 Stefan Gužvica states were designated as “semi-colonies of imperialism”, dominated by the financial capital of foreign countries, preparing them for a war against the USSR (BKF 1928: 2). The national-revolutionary organizations of the Balkans were called to stand in solidarity with anticolonial movements, implying the complementarity of their struggles. A particularly important aspect of the resolution was the need to fight against attempts by various imperialist states to sway the nationalist movements towards the right (BKF 1928: 7). The primary danger, in the eyes of the Comintern, came from Mussolini’s Italy, which hoped to establish a network of nationalist antistate organizations in the Balkans. Instead, the communists were to try and turn the rank and file of these movements to the left. The overall analysis was based on the belief that the incoming crisis would result in a socialist revolution achieving the tasks of the unfinished, bourgeois- democratic revolution (BKF 1928: 8). This was essentially a repetition of the old idea, articulated by Marxist pioneers such as Blagoev and Lenin, on the inability of the bourgeoisie in underdeveloped countries to complete its revolution, but now supplemented by the markedly communist belief that this task would be performed by the proletariat, not ushering in capitalism, but moving straight to socialism.5 Thus, it had one further twist: it abandoned the “stagist” view according to which a period of bourgeois-democratic revolution would precede the proletarian revolution, instead opting for the view that there would be an immediate socialist revolution, merely finishing the unfinished tasks of the democratic revolution in the process.6 Following its Eighth Conference, the Balkan Communist Federation effectively contradicted the head of the Comintern, although Kolarov had agreed with him earlier at the Congress. The BCF essentially openly sided with Bukharin’s left critics. Moreover, this view placed even more weight on the joint action of the proletariat with the peasantry and the “national-revolutionary” movements. Even though the leading role of the proletariat was always emphasized, in practice, the communist focus on working with the nationalists was effectively becoming the central point of their activity. The Balkan resolution reflected the Comintern’s further leftward turn after the Sixth Congress, as it was more radical than what the Congress itself had proposed. This was directly related to the political marginalization of Bukharin, who was removed from the ECCI in July 1929, at its Tenth Extended Plenum (McDermott and Agnew 1997: 85). The leadership of the Balkan communist parties generally sided with the new line of the pro-Stalin faction, embracing the view that the Balkan states were simultaneously semi-colonies and also internally conducting colonial policies over their minorities. The Communist Party of Yugoslavia was the vanguard of this process, as their analysis, passed at the Fourth Congress in Dresden in November 1928, followed the Balkan resolution and foreshadowed the further left turn in the International. The resolution on the political situation concluded that indebtedness to finance capital had made Yugoslavia into a semi-colonial country, whereas Albania was already fully a colony of Italy. This dominance made not only the poor but also the middle peasantry to increasingly turn against the regime (Pijade 1950a: 149–154). The political strategy was based on the expectation of an incoming “imperialist
Colonies in Interwar Europe? 309 war” against the USSR, in which Yugoslavia would take part as the aggressor and an agent of British and French imperialism in the Balkans. The communists and national-revolutionary organizations would then take up arms, turning an imperialist war into a civil war, and by extension, a worker-peasant revolution (Pijade 1950a: 189–191). Of course, all of this rested on an overly confident expectation that the intensifying class struggle would result in the population abandoning the hitherto dominant opposition parties and spontaneously turning to the communists: it was supposed to be a replaying of the summer of 1917, but throughout Eastern Europe. Although the crisis of capitalism prophesied by the likes of Bukharin did in fact come with the Wall Street Crash in October 1929, the communists ended up overestimating the scale of the crisis and its revolutionary potential. However, there was another problem for the communists, and this one concerned the consistency of Marxist analysis. If Albania was a colony, for instance, the matter was pretty straightforward: the Albanian national movement, fighting colonial oppression, was progressive, and so was its demand for self-determination of areas of Yugoslavia with an Albanian majority (Pijade 1950a: 154). This was a rather orthodox Leninist assertion. As Lenin put it during First World War, “national wars waged by colonies and semi-colonies in the imperialist era are not only possible but inevitable ... progressive and revolutionary” (Lih 2015: 408). But there was also a contradiction: if, for instance, Romania is a semi-colony, wouldn’t its national wars also be “progressive and revolutionary”? This contradiction was pointed out at the Tenth Extended Plenum by the Hungarian economist Eugen Varga, whose views were now under fire as “Bukharinist” (Komintern 1929d: 212). No one explained how semi-colonies, whose struggles were progressive in Leninist analysis, were now becoming parts of a global reactionary imperialist chain aimed against the USSR. The “colonial” analysis, while raising important issues about the conquests of 1918, created similar problems. Aside from the question of how a country could simultaneously be semi-colonial and imperialist, there were further problems that went unaddressed. For instance, one could certainly make an argument for colonial- style economic and ethnic oppression in a place such as Kosovo or Bessarabia, but what about regions such as Transylvania or Croatia, which were visibly wealthier and at times even had a stronger bourgeoisie than the capital cities? In what ways were they oppressed? Ultimately, was it possible to even make an argument in favour of working with the national bourgeoisie of one’s own (semi-)colonial country for the purposes of “completing” the bourgeois revolution? Andronikos Khaitas, the secretary of the Communist Party of Greece, would propose exactly this, arguing that the communists should align with the progressive sections of the national bourgeoisie in Greece to liberate it from its semi-colonial position (Alexander and Loulis 1981: 378). Precisely because of such potentially heretical views, the debate moved from the “colonial” question, in which the pro-Stalin viewpoint was far weaker and inconsistent, to the question of revolutionary stages. Interestingly, the adherence to the “two-stage theory” is generally associated with Stalin in debates against Trotsky
310 Stefan Gužvica on the Chinese question in 1926. At the time, Stalin argued for a two-stage revolution in China, including even a coalition government with non-communist forces (Löwy 2010: 75–77). What is significant for the debates against “Bukharinists” from 1929 on is precisely the rejection of stagism by the pro-Stalin faction. The new “single-stage” theory embraced by Stalin was merely Trotsky’s permanent revolution by another name. In other words, although this is largely forgotten now, Trotsky’s theory of permanent revolution was actually a hallmark of Stalinist policy for several years, starting in 1929. Likely, this was a manoeuvre for winning over many of the adherents of various “left factions” throughout the 1920s, who could be potentially lost to Trotskyism if the Comintern failed to accommodate them. At the same time, Stalin’s courting of the left prevented the unification of the oppositionists from the left and the right. Political manoeuvres aside, the debate resulted in important theoretical insights on dependency and colonialism, developed directly by Balkan Marxists themselves. Stagism and colonialism The rejection of stagism was necessarily bound up with the analysis of the Balkans as a semi-colonial space. The most significant Balkan figure in the “Bukharinist” camp initiated the stagism debate precisely because he wanted to argue that these countries could not be considered colonies or semi-colonies. His name was Solomon Timov, and he was a member of the Communist Party of Romania (PCR) and an employee of Varga’s Institute of World Economy and World Politics. Concerned with what he saw as a harmful policy taking shape in the International, he wrote a couple of articles in his Institute’s journal, called World Economy and World Politics, on the issue of revolution in Romania, and the implications of the electoral victory of the National Peasant Party. In November 1928, the National Peasant Party (also known as the Tsaranists) decisively won the election and ousted the hitherto dominant National Liberal Party from office. Timov wrote two articles analyzing their success and positing what the future holds for Romania. In the first one, he argued that, despite its ostensibly agrarian program, the Tsaranists are going to continue the industrialization of Romania. He directly challenged the thesis put forward by Vasil Kolarov, which ruled out the potential of any further industrialization in the Balkans under capitalism (Timov 1929a: 22–23). A state like Romania, in his view, had no choice but to industrialize. The only difference was which path they would choose: the path of economic autarchy or the path of importing capital. The liberals chose the former, coupled with agrarian reform, and it failed. The path of the Tsaranists was the path of actually liberalizing the Romanian market and making the state more dependent on French and British capital, as the domestic bourgeoisie had proven unable to develop the country rapidly enough (Timov 1929a: 24–30). In his second article, Timov emphasized that his analysis shows that Romania is not a colony, and argued instead that it is an imperialist country, and that it would be incorrect to call it completely subject to Britain and France. However, he did acknowledge that the position of lands acquired by Romania in 1918 is effectively
Colonies in Interwar Europe? 311 that of colonized countries, justifying their self-determination (Timov 1929b: 45– 46). Timov did not elaborate further on this particular issue, but rather posed the question about the implications of the new Tsaranist government and its policy of industrialization. The peasant movement that the Tsaranists led was, in Timov’s view, dominated by rich peasants and the petty bourgeoisie, who welcomed the entrance of foreign capital onto the domestic market, unlike the Bucharest-based financial bourgeoisie that supported the liberals. The mass mobilization of poorer peasants behind them was a consequence of the autarchic policies of the National Liberal Party, which hurt the poor peasantry. This mobilization, starting in 1928, was in Timov’s view, a new stage of the bourgeois-democratic revolution, which would lead to the breakup of feudal relations in the countryside and the development of capitalist relations of production there. However, the modernization program of the agrarians is doomed to fail, and would lead to ever greater exploitation in the villages, further destabilizing the new regime, and creating a revolutionary situation (Timov 1929b: 49–55). Timov expressed his belief in the scenario of the immediate socialist revolution in Romania, and outlined the tasks of the PCR in the coming period (Timov 1929b: 55–58). The implication, however, was that Romania could have an immediate socialist revolution because the bourgeois-democratic stage was already ongoing. Therefore, Timov’s analysis was stagism in all but name. Moreover, they could also be seen as a return to Gherea’s old stagism of the Second International, equally frowned upon because of its belief in the necessity of a complete capitalist transformation of Romania as a precondition for socialist revolution. Insightful readers did not miss this crypto-Bukharinism, and Timov’s views were soon condemned by the Comintern. The International’s theoretical journal ruled that Timov is a “right opportunist”. Their rather eclectic interpretation of Romania was that it is a state which is simultaneously “imperialist”, treating the areas conquered in 1918 as “semi-colonies”, and also a “vassal” of Britain and France (Michajlov 1929: 38). The more controversial definition of Romania as a colony was omitted. Nevertheless, interpretations of these countries as semi-colonies persisted, as the general tactical proposals of those who adhered to the colonial interpretation were closer to the Comintern line. Kosta Novaković, one of the foremost Yugoslav party theoreticians, based his analysis of the country’s semi-colonial status on the preferential position enjoyed by foreign capital and on the dependence of Yugoslavia on the French armaments industry (Dragačevac 1932: 86–87, 93–94). The Bulgarian party theoretician, Khristo Kabakchiev, considered that the process of turning Balkan countries into semi-colonies was ushered in by the era of imperialism in the late nineteenth century, only to be completed by the destructions of war in the decade between 1912 and 1922. This decade cemented the dependency of Balkan states on the financial and banking capital of the imperialist countries (Kabakčiev 1928: 104–106). Kolarov, on the other hand, made sure to clarify that the semi-colonial position of these countries rules out a coalition with the domestic bourgeoisie, due to its entanglement with foreign capital, which makes it unable to play a revolutionary role (Kolarov 1927: 6). Thus, Kolarov opened the path for an explanation of why Marxists should not necessarily support the bourgeoisie of
312 Stefan Gužvica “their own” dependent countries. He was essentially speaking of the comprador bourgeoisie, although he did not use this exact term, which had appeared in communist jargon at the time (Zedong 1926; Trotsky 1930). Despite the “ruling” from the highest theoretical organ of the international communist movement in 1929, the stagist debate continued throughout most of the Third Period. Even though harsh accusations were coming from both sides and opposing views within the International were met with increasing intolerance, the discussion went on until 1931. Over these few years, all Balkan parties would have “left” factions, endorsing a view of their states as semi-colonies, and the “right” factions, seeing them as countries at the medium level of capitalist development. They had different revolutionary predictions arising out of these premises, but they agreed on one thing: their countries’ embeddedness in the system of global imperialism, and their ultimate dependence on it. The major distinction was that those labelled “rightist” or Bukharinist thought that a semi-colony cannot simultaneously be imperialist, even though its foreign policy may be dictated by imperialist powers. In practice, this did open the door for potential collaboration with the country’s ruling class for the sake of “modernisation”, that is, the completion of the bourgeois-democratic revolution. From 1931, with another political turn back to the right, the Comintern itself would come to embrace this view and project it onto the parties it had controlled (Miloslavljević 1981: 125). Such theoretical flexibility would open up the path for class collaboration during the Popular Front era, starting from 1934. The debate on revolutionary stages was thus resolved with the Comintern effectively returning to the “stagist” view, which is usually associated with Stalinism to this day. However, as this section has shown, there was an important yet overlooked period between 1929 and 1931, when Stalin’s Comintern accepted the “Trotskyist” view. Although it was subsequently abandoned, the Third Period interpretation of semi-colonies in Europe would have its echoes in subsequent policies of Balkan communist parties, whether it be Tito’s support for Third World liberation movements, or Ceaușescu’s fight for the designation of Romania as a “developing country” by the World Bank (Fischer 1983: 50). Conclusion The collaboration of socialist regimes in Eastern Europe after 1945 with the Third World was not only a matter of proletarian internationalism but also of a perceived shared structural position in the global capitalist system. This perception can be traced back to the Marxist analyses of the first half of the twentieth century, reaching their apogee in the so-called “Third Period” of the Comintern between 1928 and 1934. The theoretical input of Lenin, who developed the term “semi- colony” to denote independent states whose sovereignty was effectively abolished by imperialism, was crucial for this development. Lenin’s approach evokes similarities with the contemporary theories of decoloniality, explaining the persistence of colonial structures after independence. Moreover, although named by Lenin, it was
Colonies in Interwar Europe? 313 not a mere imposition, but rather a signification of a phenomenon that had already been observed by the Balkan Marxists themselves. The analysis of the Balkan space as “semi-colonial” is of particular importance here. The Balkan Marxists concluded that the “national liberation” of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, rather than bringing independence, resulted in submission to great powers, as it coincided with the imperialist epoch. The only way out, therefore, was a communist revolution and the creation of a federal soviet republic encompassing the entirety of the peninsula. Acutely aware of the region’s underdevelopment, they understood that the minuscule proletariat alone could not achieve this feat, building instead alliances with peasants and groups they considered “national-revolutionary”. The definition of Balkan states as semi-colonies was particularly developed between 1926 and 1932, first in the period that the communists saw as a “temporary stabilisation” of capitalism, and then, after 1928, in the era which was supposed to bring about a new revolutionary wave. The analysis which considered Balkan countries semi-colonial was based on the predominance of financial capital from Western Europe in these states after 1918, which intensified after their destruction in the Balkan Wars and First World War. However, such an analysis was questioned by those who considered that these countries were in fact at the “medium level of capitalist development”, a designation used to describe societies such as prerevolutionary Russia. The very development of these political debates is in itself significant for a decolonial perspective on the Balkans: while “Western” and Russian communist thinkers have found their place in philosophies and intellectual histories, the regions in between, namely the Balkans and East-Central Europe, have remained ignored, except perhaps György Lukács, who is in any case considered to be part of the canon of “Western Marxism”. This chapter has shown that the region has had a great variety of relevant thinkers who offered significant theoretical insights on issues of dependency and uneven development. It only scratches the surface of their works, but I hope it shows that they deserve further scrutiny, not just for the sake of history but also for a contemporary understanding of the Balkan region. Granted, many of these figures (Rozvan/Rozvány, Novaković, Mondok, Dąbal, Khaitas) have been consigned to oblivion by the communists themselves, namely because they were murdered in Stalin’s purges and subjected to damnatio memoriae. However, those who were not, such as Kolarov, Timov, and Kabakchiev, have also not received the academic attention they deserve. This can be understood as part of an academic bias against Stalinism (which, for all its crimes, cannot be perceived as pure anti-intellectualism) but also of a structural bias against thinkers from what was collectively known, between 1945 and 1991, as Eastern Europe. This perspective betrays the fact that “Eurocentrism” in itself has a very specific “Europe” in mind, one which more often than not excludes at least half of that continent. The case study of Balkan Marxists bares the limitations of the decolonial approaches which tend to reduce Marxism to a Eurocentric imperial ideology,
314 Stefan Gužvica showing it as a vehicle of liberation for those within the European continent who have very much felt the structural pressures emanating from the countries of the capitalist centre. Moreover, it shows that the framework of decoloniality should be applied to rehabilitate and reinstate local theoretical traditions that have been forgotten due to a variety of historical factors. Finally, the research on the theoretical production of interwar Balkan communism also has significant implications, both historiographical and contemporary. Historiographically, it helps us understand the overarching strategies of the communist movement in a way that does not reduce it to the framework of an individual party operating within a nation-state. Perhaps even more importantly, it fights against the tendency, which has been common in ethnocentric examinations of these parties, to reduce their activity to the national question, observed and evaluated in a vacuum and from imagined ahistorical perspectives of a timeless “national interest”. In terms of contemporary implications, the lessons of Balkan communism in the 1920s and 1930s are perhaps even more important. Reinstituting the concept of a “semi-colony” to denote the dependence of Balkan countries on the current imperialist system would be of great use for the Marxist understanding of the region. The same is true for the methodological approach to making such claims, found in the interwar communist theoretical periodicals. It would enable us to move away from colloquial and moralistic definitions of “colonialism” which tend to dominate the public space when it comes to questions of dependency, and replace them with a proper scientific materialist analysis, which has already been present, albeit largely forgotten, in the domestic Marxist traditions. The contemporary implications also face us with a historical cautionary tale. In the Third Period, both the analyses of semi-colonialism and of mid-level capitalist development had opened the space for class collaboration. The latter saw the bourgeois revolution as incomplete, and the former saw a state that has lost its independence due to structural factors of the imperialist system. Both interpretations open the path for potential cooperation with the “progressive” sections of the national bourgeoisie, in a bid to achieve either modernization or relative sovereignty. This was a consequence of the disregard for the necessity of the leading role of the proletariat in the class struggle –a problem which was emphasized by critics of Bukharin’s analysis, such as Smirnov, but also by those who built upon Bukharin’s analysis, such as Kolarov. Today, moreover, a mechanical application of these slogans and analyses would be ahistorical, precisely because the debate on “revolutionary stages” has ended – at the beginning of the twenty-first century, the entire planet is capitalist. Feudal remnants are gone, and so is the primacy of the peasantry as a class. An overwhelming majority of the global population is proletarian, meaning they live exclusively off selling their labour power on the market in exchange for money. Therefore, the material basis for the orthodox Leninist interpretations of the national question in the periphery as a class issue no longer exists. It is therefore unsurprising that those who try to mechanically apply such a framework today end up either in reformism or nationalism (usually a combination of the two). When a
Colonies in Interwar Europe? 315 new era of imperial scrambling for semi-colonies of the world is just beginning, in the absence of any workers’ states, a truly decolonial Marxist perspective ought to avoid falling back into either parochial nationalism or preferences for one state imperialism over another. Notes 1 This chapter was prepared within the framework of the HSE University Basic Research Program. 2 Of particular importance here is the debate of Dimitrije Tucović with the Austro-Marxists, who denied that Austria-Hungary’s policy towards Bosnia is colonial, and with Eduard Bernstein, who argued that colonialism is actually a positive phenomenon. See the texts in Plavšić and Živković (2003, 123–149). 3 The extremely important topic of the failed Bulgarian revolution is beyond the scope of this chapter, so I would merely like to point out a couple of authoritative books on the topic, namely Stankova (2010), Bell (1986), and Rothschild (1959). 4 The author, “P. L.”, is a Yugoslav, and it is most likely Petr Lazitch, which was the Russian pseudonym of Lazar Stefanović, a member of the KPJ Politburo at the time. 5 Trotsky and then Lenin were the first to come to the conclusion that the bourgeois revolution led by the proletariat would grow into a socialist one. Blagoev (and most other Marxists) did not develop this view until after the October Revolution in Russia. 6 Stagism was significant in discussions of the International because of the strategy and tactics concerning the Chinese Revolution and the relationship to the Kuomintang. Rejection of stagism (at least until 1928) was associated with Leon Trotsky (Johnson, Walker, and Gray 2014: 415–416). However, as this chapter shows, between 1929 and 1931, the Comintern would accept Trotsky’s analysis without crediting him.
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Index
academy 45, 48, 116–18, 159, 181, 212–13, 280, 287 activism 103, 157 agency 8, 29, 68, 79, 80, 85–6, 101, 103, 117, 133, 154, 194, 257, 259, 264 Alatas, S. F. 40, 44–7 alliance 2, 7, 17, 27, 33, 95, 103, 214, 243–5, 250, 298, 301–4 alternative models 64 alternative modernity 202, 304 American dream 76–9, 81–2, 85–7 area studies 4, 62, 65, 260 austerity measures 2, 6, 17–18, 26, 31, 62–3, 66, 97 Austro-Hungarian Empire 278–9, 282, 284, 288, 293 authoritarianism 93 Balkan Federation 10, 198 Balkan Marxists 299–302, 304, 310, 313 Balkans 3, 6, 7, 10, 39, 47, 62, 65, 76, 94, 172, 178, 244, 266, 277–84, 286, 290, 294, 297–301, 304, 306–10 bourgeoisie 139, 183, 303, 305, 308–312, 314 bureaucratic 16, 19–21, 13–25, 28, 82, 159 capitalism 2, 4–5, 8, 15, 17, 20–3, 28–9, 31, 42–4, 49–51, 53, 61–2, 65, 77, 103, 123, 178, 184, 257, 259, 262, 277, 279, 283, 278, 290–2, 299–300, 302–4, 308–10, 313 care chains 59, 61, 69, 71 care corridor 59, 62, 64, 70 care extractivism 59, 61, 69–71 care municipalism 59, 69 Central Asia 191–2, 195–202, 260, 262 centralisation 18
centre-periphery 39, 42, 51 China 6, 52, 198–202, 217, 221, 243, 245, 262, 300, 305, 310 citizen 23, 68, 76, 85, 98, 101, 283 citizenship 87, 93, 96, 117–18, 120, 226 class divisions 82, 159 Cold War 6–7, 25, 172, 180, 208, 243, 274, 297 colonial expedition 10, 277 colonial history 62, 202 colonial matrix of power 49, 64, 133–4, 234 colonial relations 41, 60, 172, 174, 202, 263 colonial would 49, 216, 217 colonies 7, 8, 48, 52, 69, 76, 92, 98, 172, 192, 217, 277–8, 297, 300, 303–15 commodification 61, 63 common market 61, 195, 252 communism 2, 8, 15, 33, 65, 134, 178–9, 181, 183, 210, 246, 299–300, 302, 314 competition 15, 17, 40, 44, 52, 65, 85, 194, 274 conflict 16–17, 21, 27, 31–3, 49, 76, 112, 178, 180–1, 183–4, 197–8, 207–9, 234, 145, 262 conjuncture 2, 6, 8, 29 consciousness 8–9, 111, 123, 142, 150, 174–5, 179 contradictions 7, 76, 171, 173, 222, 236, 301, 303 corruption 182–4, 213 critical theory 3, 5–6, 50, 110, 135 Croatia 9, 17–18, 47, 135, 243, 245–7, 307, 309 cultural policy 145–6, 148–51, 153, 158–60, 162–5 cultural studies 49, 132, 226
320 Index debt crisis 9, 19, 63, 90, 92 decoloniality 1, 91, 111, 257, 297, 298, 300, 312, 314 decolonial option 1, 9, 39–40, 45, 48, 50 decolonial politics 92 decolonial thinking 48, 50, 91, 275 democracy 5, 8, 16–17, 23, 35, 48, 72, 76, 103, 130, 134, 192, 197–201, 250–1, 270, 304 democratization 70, 130, 135, 160, 163, 199, 260 development models 5 dichotomies 193 discourses 10, 16, 59, 60, 62, 64, 68, 78, 112, 115, 177, 185, 193, 224, 226, 236, 260, 264, 266, 272, 274 discrimination 94, 103, 184 discrimination 94, 103, 184 displacement 9, 110, 112, 113, 119, 121–3 diversity 17–18, 30, 129–30, 132–3, 138, 147, 163 division of labour 8, 26–7, 38, 45, 47, 49, 61 domestic work 59–63 domination 1, 4, 7, 27, 43, 45, 47–9, 91–2, 115, 132, 138, 140–2, 170, 192, 201, 209, 257–8, 267–8, 274, 283, 290–1 Easterners 3, 6, 8, 48, 65, 51, 66, 67 Eastern Neighbourhood 191, 198–9 economic growth 27, 34, 100 efficiency 15, 23–4, 27, 32, 101, 192, 260, 285 egalitarianism 27, 30–2, 261 elite 145–52, 158–9, 163–4, 177–8, 212, 222, 244, 251, 260, 262 emancipation 6, 8, 28, 42, 137, 141, 145, 195, 207 emigration 61, 65–6, 184 empirical research 5, 30–1, 40, 47 empowerment 9, 42, 135, 147, 158–9 enemy 4, 23, 213 engagement 25, 49, 53, 112, 114, 117, 160, 192, 197, 225, 230, 257 environment 15, 32, 61, 82, 95, 194 epistemologies 42, 48, 70, 118 equality 3, 4, 5, 22, 39, 43, 46, 50, 53, 93, 140, 182, 192, 198, 199, 251, 258, 260, 261, 266 ethnicity 49, 64, 133–4 ethnography 9, 277–80, 184, 292 EU global strategy 10, 191–2, 195–6, 200 European civilization 65, 282, 290 European colonization 98, 123, 170, 172, 277
Europeanisation 2 European Neighbourhood Policy 191 European periphery 2, 62, 70, 92, 101, 170–1, 173–4, 177, 216, 297, 304 expedition 10, 277–8, 280, 281, 284, 288, 290, 295 exploitation 7–8, 46, 60, 62–4, 69, 74, 96, 101, 113, 118, 123, 170, 172–3, 184–5, 192, 257–9, 261, 266–7, 274, 282, 293, 297, 299, 311 far-right 178–9, 181–2, 185 federalism 301 feudalism 277, 301 fieldwork 59 First World War 10, 172–3, 177–8, 280, 287, 291, 299, 309, 313 forced migration 9, 110–15, 117–23 framework 5, 8, 22, 28, 46, 50–2, 63, 85, 91–2, 96, 103, 120–1, 146, 153, 163, 170, 175, 177, 198, 200–1, 212, 216, 222–3, 252, 262, 272, 300, 314 globalisation 6, 7, 38, 43, 44, 48, 49, 51, 61, 82, 217 Global North 4, 59, 96, 97, 99, 111, 114, 118, 123 global society 4 Global South 4, 7, 8, 61, 65, 68, 70, 96, 97, 102, 111–12, 114, 118, 121–3, 135, 213 government 3, 18, 20, 24–5, 29, 31, 59, 61, 84, 90, 93, 94, 97, 101–2, 145, 146, 150, 152, 156, 182, 201, 221, 223–5, 231, 236–8, 247–9, 273, 277, 280, 310, 311 Greece 9, 66, 90–4, 97, 99, 101–3, 171–3, 266, 268 hegemony 15, 22, 44, 90, 102, 111, 117, 130–2, 136, 140–1, 172, 192, 194, 197, 209 higher education 40, 51 humanism 5 humanitarian 102, 120 human rights 4, 91, 98, 103, 139, 191, 198–9, 201–2, 213, 217 identity politics 6, 133 ideology 5, 27, 30, 51, 131, 133, 142, 180–1, 184, 210–11, 245, 257, 259–60, 269, 275, 300, 313 imperialism 5, 39, 41, 42, 45–6, 50, 52, 62, 67, 170, 172, 179, 181, 208, 211, 278, 298–300, 303–5, 308–9, 312, 315
Index 321 independence 8, 17, 50, 68, 76, 79, 93, 172–3, 179–80, 197, 221–2, 225, 235, 250, 273, 283, 299–300, 313–14 individualism 270 injustice 59, 62, 71, 115, 258, 266, 267 innovation 18, 41, 46, 53, 93, 159, 173 intellectual imperialism 39, 45 intellectuals 4, 6, 9, 129–31, 134–42, 147, 149, 177, 179, 181, 209, 213, 313 international politics 5 iron curtain 7, 61, 64 justice 70, 103, 110, 112, 114, 116, 123, 260, 270 justification 31, 225, 246, 281, 291 knowledge production 8–9, 38–47, 49–52, 110–12, 114–16, 192, 285 labour 8, 16–23, 26–7, 29–35, 38, 40, 45, 47, 49, 51, 60–3, 66, 68, 70, 76, 83, 97, 101, 117, 173–4, 197, 212, 262, 266–8, 270–1, 282–7, 290, 314 labour force 19, 62, 101, 173–4 leadership rent 191–3, 195–7, 201–2 leftist politics 6, 103 liberation 20, 31 liberation movements 303, 312 majority 43, 78, 81, 83–4, 92, 130–1, 133, 135, 139, 147, 179, 213–14, 216, 224–5, 227, 238, 249, 259, 261, 263–4, 268, 302, 307, 309, 314 marginalisation 118, 140–1, 145, 153, 155, 164, 234, 308 market 7–8, 15–17, 19–20, 23–4, 28, 31–2, 35, 38, 40, 52, 61, 63–4, 71, 97, 101, 151, 182, 195–6, 200, 252, 268, 271, 281, 283, 310, 311, 314 market economy 35, 102, 158, 182, 246 market reforms 260 Marxism 5–6, 25, 44, 132, 213, 297–9, 301–2, 304, 313 means of production 24, 283, 285, 306 memory 118, 181, 200, 221, 223–4, 226–8, 230–4, 236, 246, 266, 274 methodology 39, 48 Mignolo W. 1, 40, 48–50, 111, 115, 300, 302 migration 9, 59, 62–5, 70, 76–7, 79, 90–3, 96–102, 110–15, 117–23, 174, 184, 197, 212, 262, 264, 266–8, 270, 271, 273, 274, 280, 282 migration policies 9, 90, 92–3, 97
minimum wage 19 minority 9, 114, 129–34, 136–41, 161, 302–3 minority intellectuals 9, 129, 131, 135–6, 138–9, 141 modernity 2–4, 7, 38, 39, 48, 111, 115, 170, 211, 260, 261, 263, 264, 267, 270, 271, 275, 283, 302, 304 monopoly 23–5, 148 multiculturalism 9, 129–34, 136, 138, 140 nationalism 32, 129, 134, 170–1, 176, 178–80, 182, 184, 185, 207, 209–10, 212, 216, 224, 230, 272, 298, 303, 313–15 NATO 8, 10, 97–100, 200, 209, 243, 253 neocolonialism 46, 69, 90, 92, 95, 170–2, 174, 181 neoliberalism 112, 130, 212, 213 neutrality 10, 210, 244, 248–50 Non-aligned Movement 298 North Macedonia 9, 76–80, 82–3, 85, 87, 129, 221, 223, 227, 234, 244 Orientalism 44–6, 64, 209, 278 Ottoman Empire 76, 173, 301 paradigm 2, 6, 9, 71, 98, 114, 119, 131, 139, 140, 176, 216, 247, 279, 286, 299 particularism 129, 207, 217 pluralism 129, 136 political economy 5, 41, 193–3, 263, 267, 273 population 59–60, 65, 69, 76, 86, 98, 112–14, 121, 146, 153, 156–8, 161, 163, 171, 175, 207, 209, 212, 229, 247–8, 261, 270, 272, 279, 282–4, 290, 309 positionality 3, 111, 137, 141, 160, 167 postcolonialism 1, 6, 45, 49, 111, 170, 207 postindustrial society 15, 17–18, 20–1, 24, 26, 28, 30, 34 postsocialism 2, 4, 9, 15, 16, 39, 271 postsocialist condition 1, 6, 15, 134, 159 postsocialist studies 38, 50 poststructuralism 49 poverty 4, 8, 82, 113, 118, 183–4, 198, 209, 267, 282 power relations 62, 90, 95, 113–14, 116, 118, 154, 207, 217 precarity 3, 9, 40, 52, 69, 113 primitive accumulation 10, 277, 278, 284, 285, 287, 292, 293 primitivism 175, 299 privatization 52, 59, 61, 63, 71, 261
322 Index productivity 15, 17, 19, 22–3, 29, 34, 42, 281–3 profit 70, 95, 150, 252, 261, 270, 272, 282, 284, 299, 300 progress 3–5, 20–1, 29, 39, 46, 61, 134, 175, 191–2, 158, 267, 270, 272, 284, 299–302 public policies 71, 135, 138, 141–2 racialization 66, 68, 277, 287, 290, 291 rationalisation 2, 42, 45–6 recognition 9, 38, 41, 47, 94, 115, 123, 133, 136, 141, 159, 202, 249, 292 reflection 49, 62, 163, 173–7 resistance 32, 68, 91–2, 103, 108, 115, 121, 140, 152, 222, 257–61, 272, 277, 283, 290 revolution 10, 21, 23, 35, 92, 141–2, 171–2, 178–9, 213, 222, 262, 297–8, 302–13, 315 Russia 6, 48–9, 176, 197–202, 209, 211, 243–5, 248–50, 262, 266, 268–9, 300, 304, 313, 315 Said, E. 5, 39, 44–5, 66, 175, 207–8 scholarship 3, 5–7, 28, 38–9, 41, 43, 46–8, 50–2, 110–11, 115, 117, 119–21, 136, 141, 176, 180, 194, 223–4, 257–8 segregation 114 self-management 19–20, 25–6, 32–4 Serbia 1, 9, 10, 33, 43, 53, 138, 145–7, 149–61, 163–4, 172, 243–52, 277, 281, 301 Slavery 61–2, 113, 211 social conditions 34 social conflict 17, 31–2 socialism 15–16, 18–19, 21, 23–4, 26, 28–31, 33–6, 48, 51, 65, 208, 214, 217, 235, 245, 259, 260–1, 263, 270–1, 305, 308 socialist legacies 134 social movements 5, 6, 69, 70, 120, 258 social policies 63 social relation 17, 21, 30, 70, 283, 285 social reproduction 7, 59, 270 social sciences 1–2, 4–5, 9, 15, 18, 20, 22, 26, 41, 45–8, 95, 170 solidarity 4, 19, 52, 66, 69, 91, 102, 117, 118, 135, 140, 193, 196, 209, 211, 213, 259, 266, 298, 308 sovereignty 6, 49, 91, 129, 172, 176, 179, 195, 201, 203, 211, 214–15, 248, 250–1, 260, 293, 299–300, 312, 314
Spivak, G. 5, 7, 39, 46, 131, 207, 211 stagism 298, 310, 311, 315 Stalinism 23, 212, 312, 313 standard 2, 4, 19, 23, 65–6, 118, 147, 176, 196, 201, 212, 227, 262, 274 status quo 27, 116, 119, 137, 141, 200, 261 stigmatization 60, 62, 68, 94 strategies of representation 45, 138 stratification 31, 68, 291 strikes 16, 18, 30–5, 102 subaltern 39, 49, 67, 90, 94, 96, 100, 102, 103, 121, 130–4, 136, 137, 139–42, 297 subaltern position 141, 297 subalterns 131–4, 137–8, 142 subjectivities 68, 115, 141, 274 subordination 40, 43, 52, 103, 131, 133, 136, 139–41, 257, 271 superstructure 5, 139, 300, 305 Tlostanova, M. 1, 3, 7, 40, 47–8, 50, 208, 261 tradition 24, 27, 29, 51, 62, 76, 111, 133–5, 137, 163, 171, 176, 208, 211, 273, 293 transition 2, 7, 8, 16–17, 21–2, 26, 33, 61, 65, 76, 92, 117, 129, 135, 145–6, 152–4, 158, 233, 244, 260–2, 264, 270, 279 translational 43, 53, 60, 61, 63, 68, 70, 71, 110, 123, 172, 174, 183, 185, 194, 222, 262 underdevelopment 10, 115, 171, 181, 184, 282, 302, 304, 313 unemployment 19, 30, 31, 63, 64, 76, 173, 261 universalism 121, 191, 207, 217 USA 76–87, 192 USSR 6–7, 51, 178–9, 197–8, 243, 297, 304, 308–9 war 6–7, 10, 84, 92–3, 112, 120, 140–1, 156, 178, 180, 194, 214, 238, 243–74, 251, 268–9, 277, 280, 284, 287–8, 290, 297, 301, 308–9, 311 welfare regime 63, 274 Western colonization 50, 283 women’s rights 64, 138 work and travel 9, 76–84, 86–7 world order 61, 194, 202, 258 world systems 40, 44, 50, 111 Yugoslavia 7, 8, 15–17, 22–3, 26, 31–3, 47, 77, 150, 155, 158, 171, 178, 224, 243, 245, 246, 249, 298, 306–9, 311