That day in Belgrade, as the sun was setting, the buses pulled up in front of the Museum of Yugoslavia, an imposing mid-20th century building in the Serbian capital. A line of people appeared, some carrying flowers and a few waving the old national flag. They came to visit the mausoleum where the grave of Josip Broz Tito, the founder of socialist Yugoslavia, is located.
Many of the visitors grew up in the old system and came to celebrate the dictator’s birthday, which was a major national holiday before the breakup of Yugoslavia. Some were members of left-wing political parties, and they wore kitschy t-shirts and banners.
However, there were also a few younger people. On the steps in front of the special exhibition where Tito’s time is shown through posters, works of art, artifacts and recorded memories of “ordinary people”, I met eighteen-year-old Miloš Tomčić wearing the cap and scarf of a “pioneer” – the Yugoslav youth movement.
“I wanted to see a picture of that time,” he replied when I asked him why he had come. “It was a great time. Everyone loved each other,” he told me. Did he consider himself a Serb or a Yugoslav? “Yugoslav,” he answered without hesitation. “My mother is Serbian, my father is Montenegrin, my grandmother is Croatian. Actually, my family is from all over Yugoslavia,” Miloš explained.
The Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, which consisted of six republics – Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Slovenia, Montenegro and North Macedonia – was founded by Tito in 1945.
Tito’s state aimed to unite the various ethnic and religious groups in the region under the slogan of “brotherhood and unity”. Growing nationalism after his death in 1980 led to the bloody wars of the 1990s and the disintegration of the country.
The common narrative of those years was that Tito forced different peoples to live together against their will for nearly half a century, but 30 years later many still have a deep affection for a country that no longer exists and mourn its demise.
In Serbia, 81 percent of people believe that the breakup of Yugoslavia was bad for the country. In Bosnia, which has always been the most multicultural federal republic, 77 percent share that opinion. Even in Slovenia, which was the first country from the former Yugoslavia to join the European Union and which is considered to be the most successful, 45 percent of people still say that the breakup of the former state was harmful. It is not surprising that only 10 percent in Kosovo, which did not have full independence in Yugoslavia, regret the breakup.
(Yugo) nostalgia or something more
Affection for the former system is often called “Yugonostaglia”. However, Larisa Kutović, a Sarajevo-based political anthropologist who studies post-Yugoslav identity in Bosnia, is wary of the term.
“Nostalgia implies a kind of melancholy or longing,” she says. Of course, it exists, with numerous restaurants and guesthouses throughout the region, such as the famous cafe “Tito” in Sarajevo, which, decorated with kitsch souvenirs, presents a rosy view of that era. However, Kutović says that there is also a movement of younger people who look more critically at that period, evaluating its positive and negative sides.
“There is a great respect for the socialist period, which is linked to economic growth and a huge improvement in living standards,” says Kutović, adding that the “broken promises” of the Yugoslav project paled in comparison to the nationalism and violence that followed. Most of the former Yugoslav states have experienced massive economic decline since the wars and are still facing a brain drain.
Bosnia and Serbia are particularly burdened by political conflicts, and the once utopian brutalist housing estates and Yugoslav railways are falling into disrepair. Although Croatia and Slovenia have achieved relative stability as members of the European Union, accession negotiations for other countries have stalled, leaving many in doubt whether they will ever actually join the bloc.
In this context, some wonder if the past holds solutions to the problems of the future. As an example, Kutović cites the movements for workers’ rights that appeared in Bosnia during the last decade, and were based on the old Yugoslav socialist model of workers’ self-organization. “This system was very specific to Yugoslavia,” explains Kutović, emphasizing its departure from Stalinist state ownership of industry.
Although Yugoslavia was a one-party state, there were clear differences compared to other countries behind the Iron Curtain. Tito founded the Non-Aligned Movement and maintained balanced relations with the West and the USSR, and citizens of Yugoslavia could travel both east and west. The power of the old Yugoslav passport is still mentioned today by many of those I meet at Tito’s grave, who now need visas to enter most countries.
“In themselves small and insignificant”
Another common theme addressed by Kutović is the loss of status and the perception that people have moved from living in a relatively large and respected country to much smaller and less significant states. Đorđe Peralok was born in North Macedonia in 1989, but now lives in Bangkok.
“Whenever I have to complete some bureaucracy, like opening a bank account here, they can never find North Macedonia in the system, but they can find Yugoslavia. If you ask me, we could still benefit from a federation, even if it it’s not Yugoslavia because we are so small and insignificant by ourselves,” complains Đorđe.
He believes similar feelings are common among people his age, who never actually lived under the old Yugoslav system. “All our infrastructure is from that period, and now it’s falling apart,” Đorđe points out.
There are also movements that glorify the anti-fascist and anti-nationalist heritage of the region, which the wars have revised or tried to erase. Choirs were created that sing old partisan songs, both in the Balkans itself and in diaspora communities.
Thus, in Vienna, the choir “November 29”, named after the date of the foundation of Yugoslavia, consists of members from all countries of the former Yugoslavia. Its original aim was to suppress the nationalism that had emerged in the diaspora during and after the wars. Yugoslav workers’ clubs, where people used to meet to drink coffee, talk and play chess, then became segregated by ethnicity.
Choir members dress in red and blue jackets with pentagrams, reminiscent of the old Yugoslav flag, but avoid singing songs directly associated with the Communist Party or those celebrating Tito.
“It’s a conscious decision, because we know that there is also glorification, which is problematic,” says conductor Jana Dolecki, who is originally from Croatia and moved to Vienna in 2013. “Also, they didn’t really have a good song,” she laughs. with Jana.
Instead, members carefully select tunes that they believe can also be applied to current political issues such as rising nationalism and populism. “We try to stay away from historical revisionism. You can indulge in celebrating the past, always saying it was better, but not thinking about what better actually means,” says Jana.
The choir helped some members explore a sensitive period in their country’s history. Marko Markovic, who was born in Belgrade but grew up in Vienna, says his family refused to talk to him about the wars when he was a child.
“It was too complicated for a seven-year-old to understand, or so they thought. I always had the feeling that history was a taboo subject where I come from,” says Marko. When he found the choir, he felt he could finally “patch some holes.”
“Growing up, Yugoslavia seemed like paradise to me”
The Internet also provides a haven for people who want to discover overlooked aspects of their heritage. Several popular Instagram accounts recall the furniture, brutalist architecture and graphic design of the period.
Petar Korčnak, who grew up in what was then Czechoslovakia, started the podcast “Remembering Yugoslavia” in 2020. “Growing up, Yugoslavia seemed like a paradise to me,” he says, explaining that many people fled the Czechoslovakian regime to Yugoslavia. Dissidents from other communist countries, such as Ceausescu-era Romania, often did the same.
“We watched the violent disintegration of Yugoslavia while I witnessed the peaceful disintegration of my country. I started comparing the two and simply became fascinated by the subject,” says Korčnak.
He points out that he was amazed by the emotional outpourings of some listeners. “The best comment I heard is that the podcast is like therapy. Many say that they were ashamed for a long time to think of the word Yugoslavia,” recalls Korčnak.
He believes that the affection that many ex-Yugoslavs have for their old system is obvious. “You may hear older people in the Czech Republic saying that things were cheaper then, but mostly everyone moved on. In the former Yugoslavia, it was transformed into something completely different,” Korčnak points out.
A generation without prejudice and trauma
However, some are more critical of what they see as an over-romanticization of the period. Arnela Išerić’s family is from Bosnia and escaped to the USA, where she grew up during the war.
“My impression as a child was that the time of Yugoslavia was the most beautiful and that everything was harmonious, but when I grew up, I realized that there are things I don’t like about it,” emphasizes Arnela and cites the lack of support for the LGBT community and suppression of political pluralism. However, he says that he can still identify with the “spirit of Yugoslavia”.
“When I travel to other parts of the region, such as Montenegro or Croatia, I always feel that I am connected to the people. I speak their language and we have a similar culture,” points out Arnela.
As time passes, younger people are less directly affected by the trauma of the war, so some believe that it becomes easier to analyze the period of Yugoslavia.
“Almost every day someone asks if they can interview us for their dissertation on post-Yugoslav identity,” says Jana Dolecki, conductor of the Vienna Choir. “It was a taboo topic for a long time,” agreed her colleague Marković.
“Nevertheless, this generation has the luxury of being historically far enough away that there is no prejudice and trauma. And I think that will become more and more important,” concludes Marković.
Comments are closed.