Continuity of Endless Disaster (Serbia, Context, 2013)

Continuity of Endless Disaster

Following the signing of the Brussels Agreement two months earlier, with which it took on the obligation to abolish parallel structures in the north of Kosovo and regulate relations with Kosovo, in June 2013, Serbia received assurances that negotiations on accession to the European Union would begin in January 2014. The response was less than EUphoric. Unsurprisingly, since it is quite unclear (at least to the public) what this Europe should mean[1]. In the discourse of the domestic political elite, European standards and European integration mainly function as a wild cards devoid of meaning and therefore convenient as receptacles for a wide variety of meanings depending on the requirements of the occasion or speaker. Most frequently as promises of access to the welfare and social security of First World citizens or as a justification of things “we’d rather not, but Europe says we have to”.  And that Europe, except perhaps superficially, is asking for less and less. Apart from the implementation of the Brussels Agreement and control of asylum seekers. Nothing superficial about that.

The signing of the Brussels Agreement did not give rise to any major shifts in Serbia. Kosovo has long played the McGuffin[2] here, and the film is dragging on. Constant insecurity and fear of the pervasive violence and what the future will bring makes up the everyday lives of most of Serbia’s population. By many indicators, Serbia is among the poorest countries in Europe, with more than a million unemployed, where desperate people are increasingly driven to chopping off their fingers, hammering nails into their hands or self-immolation, because “ordinary” hunger strikes no longer draw enough attention. There are no widespread protests, nor are they expected. The desperation is individual, inarticulate, and solidarity goes no further than isolated protests by groups of co-sufferers that find themselves in the same situation. Kosovo is no exception. Apart from a gathering of a few thousand people at the Square of the Republic on 10 May – organised by the Serbs from Kosovo, and memorable mostly due to the “liturgy” for laying to rest of the Government and Parliament led by the Montenegrin and Littoral Metropolitan Amfilohije, and the comparison of Dačić with the assassinated Premier Đinđić (“Dačić says he is interested in earthly, not heavenly politics. Đinđić spoke that way, too, and how he ended up, Lord knows.” – Bishop Atanasije[3]) – not much else has happened. Harsh reaction from almost all the political parties and the public to what was said and the swift distancing of Patriarch Irinej of the Serb Orthodox Church from the events served as a remainder that the Church’s power in the public space is derived from the will of the political elites.

The departure of the Democratic Party (Demokratska stranka – DS) and the arrival of the Serbian Progressive Party (Srpska napredna stranka – SNS) brought in some changes, but nothing fundamental has changed. There was no radical turnabout compared to the politics of the Democratic Party. The European course, reducing democracy to periodic elections every four years, employment based on party and family affiliation[4], the dominance of the executive over the judicial and legislative branch of government, the lack of division of government and mutual control of the various branches, paying lip-service to the sanctity of human rights without a genuine effort to uphold and/or protect them make up this continuity. There are some novelties, however. One is that from the superficial advocating of fighting corruption in political shows, the media have started announcing arrests of tycoons. Miroslav Mišković, the top fat cat from the 1990s, was arrested under corruption charges. Part of the system that enables and induces corruption has not been dismantled (yet?). But that’s hardly important as long as the ratings are kept up. And they are. People like to see nothing better than a rich man in jail.

Whether he positions himself as a defender of the robbed and humiliated, or the man to sacrifice himself for the modernisation of Serbia, and/or the embodiment of the will of the people, Aleksandar Vučić is currently the most popular politician in Serbia. His popularity is reflective of a deeper continuity of desire for “someone who knows how”, “someone who will solve things (himself?)”, “someone different”, shared to a greater or lesser degree by all strata of society. In that respect, ideology mostly serves a decorative purpose. At the same time, a particular combination of “proven patriotism” and pro-European modernist rhetoric offsets criticism and affords Vučić widespread support both from traditional voters of the (formerly) Serb Radical Party and a sizeable portion of those who vote for what was once known as the pro-democratic block. Not only did his radical political about-face from-Šešelj-to-Weber leave his popularity unscathed, if anything — his popularity increased. And SNS is seen as a party that keeps its promises[5].

On the other side is the disoriented opposition, primarily the Democratic Party, which, following the replacement of Boris Tadić, deals with constantly decreasing ratings by accusing “its” voters of disloyalty and/or misunderstanding and inner-party fractioning. The previously introduced practice of having local authorities harmonise with state-level government is returning to the Democratic Party like a boomerang. The DS President Dragan Đilas was deposed from the position of Mayor of Belgrade and new elections will be held in the capital. Local and central government concur almost throughout the country, which once again opens up many questions. For example, if power relations at the central level of the Republic (or the level of the President) are to be replicated at other levels of government, what exactly is the point of local elections? Or, rather, what would be the consequences of concentrating power in the hands of such a small number of people? Still, questions are something we’ve always had more than enough of. And these are not exactly new questions.

It is also not particularly novel to ban the Pride Parade, something that almost metaphorically sublimates the various forms of continuous lack of accountability and/or cynicism of the political class in Serbia. It has been banned for the third time for “security reasons”. There is one aspect where statements of politicians from ruling structures leave us no room for disagreement – namely, that this is not a defeat for the state. For the state to be defeated, it would have to stand by its Constitution and its laws and try to ensure their implementation. Without resorting to relativism, personal dis/likes and hiding behind thugs, extreme right and hooligan groups (who when it came to the signing of the Brussels Agreement, a potentially far more risky event, were apparently all off on a fishing holiday somewhere). That would be the core of the frequently used phrase “rule of law”. One of the purposes of the Constitution, laws and institutions is the restriction of authority, its effective control and the prevention of arbitrary rule. Max Weber, a favourite thinker of the first Vice-President of the Government of the Republic of Serbia, Aleksandar Vučuć[6], had much to say about it, and with great passion. Without it, we enter what Serbian Newspeak calls “political will”, a grey zone conducive to judicial processes running into obsolescence, tycoons connected to the government robbing state-owned and racketeering private enterprises, murders of reporters remaining unsolved and milk with unacceptable levels of aflatoxins being proclaimed perfectly healthy. The list could conceivably go on forever. And much has already been seen.

Last year’s change of government and the coming to power of those who had had a significant role in shaping the last decade of the 20th century in this region did not bring about any sort of “return to the 1990s”. The social amnesia that enshrouds the 1990s in Serbia and according to which “Serbia was not involved in the war” has in time come closer to “What war?”. Leaders of the Democratic Party have contributed to this amnesia through their lack of political vision and/or courage to open up the question of Serbia’s responsibility for these wars, the question of their consequences, but also their failure to, on behalf of the country they represented, express remorse without relativism and send an unambiguous message to others (in the region and in the country) that something like that would not be repeated. It is then not inconceivable for the regime personified by Milošević to become merely “a government that was not ideal, given that it lost the elections”, but “all that should be left in the past” because “if we cannot correct the past, we can influence the present and the future” (Ivica Dačić)[7]. However, that past is present, issuing daily warnings that it’s not going anywhere. Either in the guise of seemingly incomprehensible eruptions of violence such as the multiple murder in Velika Ivanča near Mladenovac where a man described by his neighbours as quiet and good (otherwise a war veteran from Slavonija in 1991) killed thirteen people in their sleep[8]. Or the recent incident of primary school pupils beating up their teacher while he waited for his wife and child in the park[9]. Or in the selective history, simplified black-and-white explanations and/or discourses of self-victimisation whereby “we are, if not the only, then the greatest victims” still dominating public space in relation to the wars of the 1990s. Desperation and frustration coupled with normalised violence make for a dangerous combination, and the past is never just the past.  This kind of past lasts forever.

Swimming between the narrative of lost identity, the betrayal of Kosovo and nationalist ressentiment, and the (failing) hope of a golden age (personified in the prosperity of the EU), the shipwrecked inhabitants of Serbia wait for a boat to save them from floating in endless disaster. The bad news is that we should not expect much in the way of help from the outside, and that the people living here will have to row themselves ashore. That’s also the good news.