6 Sarajevo in:

Tobias Greiff

Violent Places, page 155 - 196

Everyday Politics and Public Lives in Post-Dayton Bosnia and Herzegovina

1. Edition 2018, ISBN print: 978-3-8288-4092-8, ISBN online: 978-3-8288-6938-7, https://doi.org/10.5771/9783828869387-155

Tectum, Baden-Baden
Bibliographic information
6 Sarajevo “...All roads lead me to you I wait with some longing for your lights Sarajevo love of mine...“ ∗ LeavingMostar to theNorth, we enter onemore time into thewide-open valley of Herzegovina before it comes to its natural end at an imposing mountain range through which we will climb, following the curves of the Neretva on our way to the country’s capital Sarajevo. This drastic change of scenery, from aMediterranean city, via open country side with its little villages built along its roads, to the mountainous regions with few settlements pinned on steep slopes, where colder climate and long shadows influence the way of life, points us towards a whole new set of potential variables influencing positioning processes inside as well as between the larger constituent groups. Traditions, customs and world views formed by access, needs, exposure and time can be expected to have developed differently depending on the microcosms of one’s upbringing, whether one grewup in city, country side, ormountains. These differences, as close to unnoticeable as theymight appear to a foreigner’s eye, might weigh heavily in the local realm. After a war that uprooted over half of the population, from which many did not return to their places of pre-war life but instead decided to move into bigger cities, into the capital, being aware of the potential power places of origin have on intergroup positioning processes is important. Nothing can prepare an outsider to detect those small but important identifiers, therefore the only thing left to do on this drive is to look out for the obvious, the stark difference to what one has seen so far in the hope that later on these observations can help us to understand the current positionings and how they are created and reinforced in Sarajevo. ∗ Part of the refrain to the song ‘Sarajevo Ljubavi Moja (Sarajevo, Love of Mine)’ composed by Kemal Monteno in 1975. The song is locally beloved and some even consider it the un-official anthem of Sarajevo. 155 Across the valley. . . Here the first obvious contrast to Mostar, which we’ve just left, lies in the absence of disguise, in the directness of expressions of enmity, suffering, as well as ethno-national pride and claims to certain spaces displayed in many towns of Herzegovina. Memorials for one army or the other, ranging from larger steel and glass shrines right as we exit out of Mostar for the 1st Mostar Brigade (a Bosniak unit) surrounded by ARBiH and Bosnian national flags in front of a local branch of the Bosnian post service, to smaller one piece stone constructions like the one for the soldiers of the HVO right before the town of Jasan, which was recently vandalized and now displays graffiti in the form of the ARBiH flag in the center, to simple murals on house walls or garages facing the street down to Sarajevo, appear everywhere. Enmity is also expressed through crossed out, or replaced, town names on street signs, or very simply the crossing out of a red-colored car on a do-not-overtake street sign, red being a symbolically Croat color, and the symbolism therefore informing members of this group that they are not welcomed here. That these expressions are not a singular phenomenon but stand in close relation to other symbols completing the picture of open hostility – that while maybe not supported by everyone is at least is accepted by a majority – can be observed in all its dimensions in the towns of Vrapčići and Votocči through which the M17 leads us. In Vrapčići a brand newmosquewith twominarets, a style not original to pre-war Bosnia and therefore very often an indicator for amosque that has been built and financed by Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Turkey, or in some cases even Malaysia, together with a row of ARBiH flags on streetlamps throughout the townmake it clear who claims the space even before one has seen the ruins of themonastery and Franciscan school. Votocči greets one with a town sign onwhich the name is crossed out and sprayed over in red paint with the letters “HR” standing for Hrvatska (Croatia), and Croatian flags leading up to the central Catholic church. One meter past the church, however, ARBiH flags and high fences indicate that now the group claiming the space has changed and that Votocči today is separated. In this valley, every other public sign is utilized as a billboard todisplay thegraffiti of soccer hooliganfirmsmarking their territoryordemonstrating their own bravery by glorifying the fighting of a symbolic guerilla 156 war deep behind enemy lines. This type of warfare was only too often fought in the mountains we now enter, against all kinds of occupiers and rulers, most famously duringWW II against the German and Italian fascists and their local supporters and allies, Ustaše and Handžar – the latter being a volunteer SS division comprised predominantly of Bosniaks. These forceswere resisted not only by Tito’s partisans, supported by allied troops with equipment and intelligence, but also by armedmostly Serb royalists, Tschetniks, hoping for the resurrection of a Serbian empire. None of the three constituent groups was free from falling pray to the fascinations of power and status promoted by local versions of nationalism, while at the same time each group remembers themselves through the locally honored lens of the underdog. . . . through the mountains. . . This excursion into history meets reality in the city of Jablanica half way to Sarajevo. This is the place where Tito’s strategy rescued a deadbeat Partisan army from its apparently unavoidable fate of annihilation through German troops during WW II, a moment which became permanently engraved in the history books and the collective memory of Yugoslavia. School children from all over the country visit the museum of the partisan war, take photos next to an old howitzer, or the train that stands lost and robbed of its tracks at the cliff of the Neretva canyon. Behind the train, looking over the edge one can still see the remains of the old railroad bridge, blown apart during the day by Tito’s partisans tricking the axis forces into believing that this act was a last stand of the partisan leaders to leave no escape route for their battled and demoralized troops. It was a move that would provoke a final battle a few miles outside Jablanica, during which time the destroyed bridge was replaced by a hastily build wooden bridge over which the wounded Partisans were able to organize an escape while the Axis forces spent their time grouping for the final strike. This moment of outsmarting the war machinery of the German Wehrmacht by strategically sacrificing a bridge remains unforgotten. Understanding this history allows us to consider a different view toward the act of destroying the Mostar Bridge, which, as we saw in the previous chapter, in the international and unfamiliar eye was immediately viewed as an act of evil barbary. Perhaps, however, in the local 157 context, burning bridges, as a tactic for gaining militarily strategic options, mightmake one into a hero, a smart and decisive leader. Following this rationale, we might question how those who rebuild bridges are in turn perceived? Is being a bridge-builder a position worth following or a position only stable as long as outside powers are there to stabilize it? Along these lines one might wonder if the concept of uniting enemies through the rebuilding a bridge that, evenworse, knowingly favored the economy of one side, was not doomed to fail from the beginning. Jablanica today attracts less and less visitors; the blue color of its damaged bridge signals its losing battle against corrosion, while the museum remains closed most days. Sometimes buses of young people stop, not now to learn about a conflict, but instead to engage in open violence. Jablanica in recent years became, alongwith the town of Stolac, a famous battleground for organized hooligan clashes; especially since security at soccer stadiums has improved and Jablanica conveniently lays half way between Mostar and Sarajevo in the mountains.1 Too far for any decently sized police force dispatched maybe from as far away as Sarajevo to get there; remote enough for large veterans meetings celebrating their acts of war here every year in commemoration of the Neretva Brigade. Continuing our drive on roads so new that we know they must have been totally destroyed in the war, we pass yet another relict of Yugoslav times. Near the city of Konjic, a city that tells the visitor its affiliation through a brand newmosque, ARBiH flags on the central square named after the Bosniak war time leader and later president Alija Izetbegović, and a huge billboard depicting a bridge made of old stones on one side and modern steal on the other framed by a Bosnian and Turkish flag explaining the historical connection and shared future of both countries, one old bunker system was dug into the mountain by Tito’s engineers. The Konijc bunker, a reserve command post, in other words a place for the elite to endure invasions, organize defense, and even survive and stay operational during a nuclear war, today hosts a merger of a military museum with an art exhibition and can be visited after initial registration. Here it is no longer the secret and the crude construction that 1 Emir Imamović, “The Name of the Game:War,” in Leap into the City: Chişinău, Sofia, Pristina, Sarajevo, Warsaw, Zagreb, Ljubjana, ed. Katrin Klingan and Ines Kappert (Köln: DuMont Literatur und Kunst Verlag, 2006), p. 264. 158 attracts people today, but rather its new use as a space for art and artists. This new use allows some observers praise the bunker as an example of how spaces can not only change purpose but actually be reclaimed and transformed through arts and activism.2 This picture however forgets that the areal is still under the control of the Ministry of Defense of BiH and that the art show Project Biennial is sponsored from the very top in cooperation with the governments of Serbia, Montenegro, Turkey, and Croatia and other international institutions, and showcases work from renowned artists; in other words it is not a place transformed by the needs and hopes of the citizens but rather a stage orchestrated and transformed by those in power to create such hopes to begin with. What we have seen in the short moments on our drive over the karst mountains is that these places can be both in and out of the reach of international or central state powers; they definitely have space for preservation of culture and the cultivation of traditions and values, but in the same second offer great opportunities for radicalized local elites to operate under the international radar and cultivate strong and exclusive visions for their future. In this sense, these places do not differ too much from what we observed in the valley. The largest visible differences were less graffiti, murals, and flags. In the valley it seems that different ethno-nationally mobilized groups come into more frequent contact, creating the need to visually defend and renew their claims, while the mountains as far as we have seen appear to be rather homogenous. This ethnic purity can be explained when looking at return rates of IDPs and refugees that are on a very general level higher in valleys and towns than in remote mountain areas. People who left or were forcefully expelled from the mountains often came to the cities and, with hope for better economic opportunities and the fear of return, they stayed. Refugees and IDPs, new comers to city life, are important groupings if one wants to understand current city dynamics especially in the capital. . . . into the city. A little way outside of Konjic we have the opportunity to leave the M17 and switch over to the first and only Bosnian highway, the A1. Piece by piece the A1 keeps growing and one day might connect Mostar with Sarajevo and from there on North towards Zenica and Banja Luka. This 2 Kappler, Local Agency and Peacebuilding, p. 143. 159 day will be in the distant future; nevertheless, it is probably the single most impressive infrastructure project that is not a reconstruction of something that has been destroyed during the war. With the new road comes also a street toll that grows in the same rhythm as the highway does and can be over 5KM for a one-way use. This price, during times in which, according to the Institute for Statistics of FBiH, the average net wage in 2015 in the Federation was around 800KM, with pensions less than 400KM, can be too much, so that many locals share a ride and continue to take the old roads, and sometimes even dirt roads, to avoid the fee.3 We too will continue on the M17 and leave the A1 for faster cars with police escorts or light blue Corps Diplomatique (CD) stickers heading to and from the center of power because it will allow us to enter Sarajevo close to the placemany tried to leave it during thewar. Curving around Mount Igman, one of the mountains on which the 1984 Winter Olympicswere carried out andwhich due to its strategic proximity to the city and the Sarajevo airport was a battleground in the last war, we enter one of Sarajevo’s suburbs, Ilidža. Ilidža, in the very West and on the perimeter of Sarajevo, was, during the war, along with the city quarters of Grbavica, Stup, and Dobrinja, in large part ethnically cleansed by Serb forces who managed to besiege the city of Sarajevo for over three years.4 The only stretch in the line around the city not controled by the Serb army was the Sarajevo airport, right here in Ilidža, with a narrow sector over mount Igman right behind the airport. This made the UN controlled airfield into a bottleneck, in permanent reach of machine guns and artillery. While very few locals had the privilege to use international convoys due to connections or employment with international aid organizations, most people theoretically had only the airport as a possible escape route out of the besieged city. Running over the runway however was nearly impossible; a UN agreement with the besieging Serb forces made sure that in order to operate the airport unobstructed, UN troopshad to ensure 3 Institute for Statistics of FB&H, Monthly Statistical Review of the Federation of B&H: July 2015 (Sarajevo, 2015), p. 23—24. 4 Cornelia Sorabji, “Managing Memories in Post-War Sarajevo: Individuals, Bad Memories, and New Wars,” Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 12, no. 1 (2006): p. 13. 160 no one could escape the siege.5 To avoid being targeted, but mainly to supply the besieged forces with weapons and citizens with necessary supplies, army engineersmanaged to dig a tunnel beneath the field. This tunnel, today remembered as Tunel spasa, as Tunnel ofHope or Tunnel of Life, is an element of local pride, of once again outsmarting and surviving even the biggest enemies. What often remains untold is that the tunnel is a symbol of an actual double siege: First civilians could not leave because of the Serb army surrounding the city, and second they were trapped by the defending Bosniak army and elitewho recruited them to dig trenches and fight and was in control of the tunnel. In the Bosniak elite’s rational, letting people leave would weaken their defense potential; and as soon as the image of the suffering people of Sarajevo vanished so too, in their fears, would the international support for the Bosniak claims. However there was one more aspect why the tunnel remained closed for civilians; people in a besieged city soon run out on the most fundamental supplies for livelihood – from food, to oil, and clothes. While the siege could be blamed for shortages, controlling the tunnel and the flow of goods also meant dictating the black market prices.6 The profitable resource, the loot of this particularwar economy, is a different formof blood diamonds – their ownpeople’s piggy banks, jewelry, and, when thosewere all gone, promised lifelong loyalties. Today these loyalties still exist, togetherwith deep routed mistrust towards the war profiteers. One of these alleged profiteers recently built a private university with a heliport in close proximity to the airport and in direct neighborhood to two other recently founded private universities, each of which has ties to Turkish political elites, and a brand new thermal spa and pool complex. Military vehicles of EUFOR troops indicate that the HQ is not far away and complete the colorful picture of Ilidža, today a hub where internationals, from tourists to soldiers, enter Bosnia by air. From there on taxis, metered or not, will hit the road and take the main street into town. 5 Robert J. Donia, Sarajevo: A Biography (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2006), pp. 306–307. 6 The same was true for controlling the so called blue routes, the routes of UN aid trucks. Whenever the blue routes where opened, the market prices dropped. Ivana Maček shows the connection between those in power to open the routes and their actual interest in keeping those days very limited in order to control the localmarket situation. Maček, War Within, pp. 36 and 98. 161 New Sarajevo As soon as we turn from the airport connector street via a traffic circle which is built around a small graveyard, onto the main street, the Džemala Bijedića, we have reached socialism, or what is left of it. The houses of the Herzegovina appeared Mediterranean like Italy, but the concrete blocks and central alley here are definitely marked by a socialist aesthetic. At the outskirts of old Sarajevo, with its streets winding up and down hills and mountains, the socialist urban planners found their space to build a representative New Sarajevo: symmetrical living blocks, functionalist infrastructure from the street kiosk to the playgrounds of schools and kindergartens. ‘New’ was here used as a slogan under the socialists to promote their visions of improvement for the future, though the term means something quite different today. Talking about ‘New Sarajevo’ today can refer to either the municipality Novi Grad Sarajevo in the North of the city, or to areas high in populations of newcomers that have settled after the war, or finally, it could also be used to refer to a part of Sarajevo that lies over the IEBL in the Republica Srpska, which became its own city after the war and was initially named Serb Sarajevo, but after a constitutional court rulingwas renamed Istočno Sarajevo, East Sarajevo. Today, we can see and feel that the socialist times have passed and new forms are taking shape. The violence in this transition can be seen by the many bullet, mortar, and grenade holes that shape many house walls, and the new post war system becomes apparent by the multiplicity of self-made renovations on previously communally owned constructions. Basically no high rise apartment building has a unified facade any longer: different colored window frames, self-constructed balcony improvements, extensions, winter gardens, and satellite dishes demonstrate to us that these apartments now have private owners. The transitions from communal to private property, together with concepts of local pride, new comers, and ethnically segregated areas, will accompany us through this part of the visit and highlight some of the dynamics of recent positioning processes. Business alley Driving down the old parade street, that by now has changed its name to Bulevar Meše Selimovića, only to change it later into Zmaja od Bosne, 162 and then, depending on which direction one travels, to first Hiseta and thenObalaKulina bana for inbound traffic and toMulaMustafe Bašeskije and then Maršala Tita for outbound traffic, today is a place for different kinds of demonstrations of power. One neon sign after another, of car dealerships, shopping centers, banks and insurance providers, to the biggest local hygiene product producer Violetta, and both of the city’s two MacDonald’s restaurants, appear and help to create an image of a thriving modern city. Behind the first row of glass and steel constructions, the socialist living quarters feel out of time and in the few disruptions in the capitalized strip one can find a newly built Catholic church and not far away yet another mosque and culture center financed by the Saudi royal family, the King Fahd Mosque and Culture Center. The mix of old and new, of international and local, is beautifully reflected in the assortment of streetcars running in the middle of the strip. Trams donated after the war from several cities around the globe share the old socialist track system. Zooming past the headquarters of BH Telecom, one of the original three post war telephone providers associated with service predominantly to the Bosniak constituents, and of Osloboðenje, a newspaper that managed to stay operational throughout the three years of the siege and therefore is seen as a loyal companion to deliver what those who endured the suffering need to know, we drive past one of the last skeletons of the war on the right side. Once amodern elderly living and nursing home, today this property is fenced off and no attempts of repair or final demolition can be seen. The fence, together with a huge row of billboards, covers some of the biggest wall murals from right after thewar reflecting hopes for peace and a new beginning. On the billboards advertisements next to election campaign posters and announcements for music events can be found – beneath the layers of old paper, in 2009 a concert of Lepa Brena was announced. Fears of clashes and animosities were high when Lepa Brena, a famous Yugoslav pop star who allegedly supported the Serbian side during the war through her marriage with a Serb athlete and her move to Belgrade, came to town; but everyone except her fans stayed quiet that night, and fears of violence proved to be unfounded. This instance nevertheless reinforces the notion that music, and even more so family names, are still inseparable from nationalist war politics and provide inescapable forces influencing positioning processes. With the wrong family name, 163 finding a job can be challenging – although so can having the right name but being from a mixed ethnic background. Passing the buildings of institutions and organizations in charge of changing these practices, we know we have come closer to the city center. Opposite to the yellow Holiday Inn building, which gained its fame as place in which international negotiators and investors stayed during the siege, meters away from the new American Embassy that was attacked by a radical Muslim in 2001, next to the History Museum of Bosnia Herzegovina and the permanently closed National Museum of Bosnia andHerzegovina, theHouseofParliament is situated. The imposing office building is towered-over by the UNITIC building with its two towers that locals call the Bosnian Twin Towers because they too burned to ashes during thewar. TheUNITIC building today hosts a large variety of international organizations’ offices and one private university. It itself is only outdone in height by the AVAZ Twist Tower, the highest building in the Balkans today, and headquarters of the most powerful local news and media consortium, founded by one of Sarajevo’s most glamorous newcomers Fahrudin Radončić. His rise to power from a press officer of the ARBiH to the owner of the most powerful media consortium as well as construction businessmen is often explained by his opponents in terms of criminal practices and his ties to Izebegović and other Balkan wide networks. Today Bosnia’s Donald Trump, his local nickname, runs his own political party, the Savez za bolju budućnost BiH (SBB BIH), the Union for a better future of Bosnia, which won over 30 percent of the Bosniak votes in the general elections of 2010. While this was not enough to win the Bosniak seat of the presidency, the success of his party shows the power his media consortium has in making and unmaking political careers. Radončić is maybe the richest Bosnian today but by far not the only tycoon who has made a fortune and built a powerful empire, as the shiny new Alta Shopping Center right outside UNITIC demonstrates. Retail businesses and shopping centers are the expertise of another business men, Miroslav Mišković, the former deputy prime minister of the Socialist Republic of Serbia, who some refer to as the true owner of Serbia today, and who, just before being detained for criminal investigations concerning his role in state privatization business, announced a cooperation with Radončić in Sarajevo. The Montenegrin and the Serb tycoon show, together with investors behind other large supermarket chains and shareholders of insurance companies and banks 164 that come from all over the former Yugoslavia, how multicultural the business elite in Sarajevo is – and how different to what we observed in Mostar. While often in hard competition, their vision for the public space and life can nowhere be seen as clearly as on the brand logos and slogans running through the installed mega screens on the front of Sarajevo City Center, yet another shopping mall even newer and bigger than Alta, and funded by Saudi Arabian investors. In stark contrast here, the old Littfasssäule – ‘Little Fat Man’ who got this nickname through the thickness of layers of posters and announcements glued to ‘him’ over centuries, stands before the center as a symbol of the past. At Little Fat Man the Bulevar splits into inbound and outbound traffic to make one big loop around the center of the old city. Following it, we now meet Sarajevo’s central river, the Miljacka, on whose Southern side several embassies, the faculty of arts, a park, and the palace of Bosnia’s grand mufti are situated, connected to the Old center on the Northern side through several small bridges. And at one of these bridges, while driving along towards the old garrison, Archduke Franz Ferdinandwas assassinated in 1914, amoment deeply engraved in Europe’s collective memory. For those who endured the last war in Sarajevo the memories connected with this street corner might have been over colored by even more traumatizing experiences and stories. The street we traveled upon for the last kilometers is the infamous ‘SniperAlley,’ the street onwhichmanypeople, old andyoung, soldiers and civilians alike were killed through targeted rounds set off from positions on the surrounding mountains – dictating the speed of life – a change from a leisurely Sunday stroll along the river to a dash for life between the little cover street corners promised. The surrounding mountains and rivers always have influenced life in Sarajevo, from offering fertile grounds for its original settlement to limiting the direction in which the village could grow. Of the latter one becomes aware when seeing a street sign warning that we are about to leave Sarajevo onlymeters pass the Old Central Library. With a center so close to the mountains, further development needed to either climb the ravines or move westwards to where we entered in Ilidža, a fact about the old center that tells one about the age and the importance given to it by the early rulers of Sarajevo. 165 Old Town The famous triangular shaped former National and University Library of Bosnia and Herzegovina, a building locals often refer to as Vijećnica designed and erected under the Habsburg emperors as a municipal administration building, which was destroyed during the war and recently reconstructed to its old beauty under international hospice, together with the city’s current function as the capital of Bosnia, could easily lead to the wrong conclusion – that Sarajevo has always been the dominant regional center.7 For a long time however Sarajevo was merely one of several smaller markets and stops for caravans coming from the Silk Road. Under Ottoman rule Sarajevo became a larger administrative center and therefore, with the exception of the later built Library, the first impression one has when walking into the old center now coming from the East is that we have walked back into Ottoman times.8 This illusion holds only briefly as one walks between modern restaurants and coffee bars run out of the traditional old houses of which the streets surrounding the old bazar are comprised. The old bazar, the Baššaršija has been for centuries the central place in Sarajevo for tourists and locals alike to meet, have coffee, shop and observe the city life. The passages between the market houses are usually packed with people, albeit most of the shopping today is done by tourists andmost shops offer the same tourist souvenirs we have seen in Mostar, from coffee grinders to pens made of old rifle cartridges. A good portion of what is sold as locally oriental is actually imported from as far away as India and several of the shops, especially those pastry shops offering oriental sweets called Slastičarnica, are famous for being run by Albanian mafia clans.9 Locals of all ages can be seen in the cafes and hookah parlors together with tourist groups and on a regular basis uniformed soldiers, since the army headquarters is only minutes away. The harmonic atmosphere is part real and part illusion; between expensive digital cameras and smartphones very youngRoma children can be seen often carrying sick babies trying to arouse sympathy and earn some money through begging or through the selling of forged, mostly expensive perfumes to tourists. Once the police patrol turns their way, 7 Markowitz, Sarajevo, p. 41. 8 A very detailed history of Sarajevo can be found in: Donia, Sarajevo. 9 Markowitz, Sarajevo, p. 103. 166 one can see them running over the white new stone ground. And it is these new stone streets, with their stainless steel draining, that feel equally out of place in an area otherwise meticulously restored fromwar damage to resemble the old Ottoman heritage. The absence of the old cobblestones, that in several places had survived the centuries undamaged aswell as the shelling of thewar, is a political statement. Right after the war international donors and local elites both aimed at restoring the old bazar under the rationale of moving this unique cultural space onto theUNESCOworld heritage list. The promise of constant tourist streams made this a goal all sides could agree on. In 1997 Sarajevo in its entirety, under the proposal title “Unique Symbol of Universal Multiculture,” was placed on the world heritage tentative list as a cultural heritage site and has remained there until today in this preliminary status with less and less chance of ever receiving final recognition.10 The reasons behind this non-decision are multifold; in the meantime, however, local elites have turned away from investing high sums for the upkeep and further restoration of the last true communal and not already privately owned space of the old Bazar – the passages and pathways – and replaced the cobble stoneswith the new,more convenient flat stone installations. This decision robs Baššaršija of the chance to become on its own an internationally registered heritage site, although it has not done harm to the local business and is welcomed by tourist’s feet year around. Colors Tradition and modernity live side by side in the Old town, and long passed are the times in which one could only find coffee prepared in a traditional way and served in a cup without handle, the fildžan; today modern espressomachines, and instant coffees prepared in regular demicups, šoljica, as well as alcoholic beverages are served under red Coca Cola umbrellas everywhere.11 The red of the umbrellas and the overall colorful appearance of the old market today is for many locals a source of pride and maybe a reassurance that the threat on their life from the war are finally over. The day the colors came back, as Sejla Kamerić 10 Historical Institute for the Protection of Cultural, Natural Heritage of Bosnia, and Herzegovina, “Sarajevo - unique symbol of universalmulticultural - continual open city,” accessed August 23, 2015, http://whc.unesco.org/en/tentativelists/906/. 11 Maček, War Within, p. 42. 167 shows in her film about life during the siege of Sarajevo “1395 Days without Red”, is the day for many the war was officially over. Since then colors have played an important role in the people’s lives; colorful fashion and freshly painted houses in bright colors are one side of this, the other is the use of colors as political tools for claiming space and positioning groups. In 2012, for the 20th Anniversary of the beginning of the siege of Sarajevo, for example, Maršala Tita street which we are about to enter at the very end of the pedestrian zone, was closed down for a public art installation; rows and rows of red empty chairs, 11,541 in total, one for every citizen who was killed in the war, together with speeches and readings, served as a commemoration of the victims, an art event, and a powerful symbol pointing an accusatory finger towards the group that is seen as the aggressor, something that causes us to wonder how difficult it must be today for the remaining Bosnian Serb community in their own capital. The event attracted awide international audience and in 2014 an exhibition about the Sarajevo Red Line opened in Turkey. Such large orchestrated events overshadow the many smaller color statements of which some, like the exchange of street name signs from blue back ground to green, together with the painting of several school doors in green, the color associated with Islam and therefore symbolic for Bosniak claims, have a clear political message; while others, like the Sarajevo roses, started out as local practices of memorialization andonly later becamepolitical projects.12 The Sarajevo roses are craters in the pavement caused by grenade explosions, which were filled with red wax, much of which has now been replaced by some other red colored substance, as a reminder of those who were killed in these places. Today many of these Roses are kept intact, even when streets and pathways around them are renovated. One of the most colorful places on the old market is the Morića Han a four sided building with an inner court yard that once was a central resting place for caravans. From there green flags point us towards the Gazi Husrev-begova džamija one of the three main mosques of the old city quarter and its opposite old madrasa, a Muslim school and library. The Gazi Husrev-begova complex is completed through the covered old market hall, which also marks the endpoint of the Ottoman old city. Continuing on the main pedestrian street, the Ferhadja, which before 12 Markowitz, Sarajevo, p. 11. 168 the war was called Vase Mičkina, we enter into the next time period of Sarajevo’s inner city, into the Habsburg Hungarian times. This is mirrored in the construction of the houses, some of which have been restored the old yellow color with white trim and window frames. In the center of this period stands the Catholic Cathedral Srca Isusova, Sacred Heart, on its own little plaza. A few meters away is the old Katolički školski centar Sv. Josip, the catholic counterpart to themadrasa. On the backside of the cathedral, graffiti was sprayed reading in black “Stand your ground old town HZ” and then crossed out in blue, and signed with a blue TM87. The Horde of Evil (Horde Zla, HZ) and The Maniacs established in 1987 (TM87) are acronyms for two local soccer hooligan organizations with a violent past between them and no apparent hesitation in using the cathedral as a stage for their enmity. Graffiti From the Sacred Heart onwards through the pedestrian zone it is only a few steps until one enters the socialist times and post socialist times, interrupted by some Habsburg Hungarian ensembles like the National Opera and the Market Hall. The more modern the buildings appear to be, the more graffiti one can find on their walls, doors, and entrance ways. TM87s and HZs stand next to two particularly interesting sets of graffiti, which also recur throughout the city. The first is the logo for recycling which, in a similar form, is used in different countries of the EU: a matchstick man throwing something in the shape of the recycling logo into a garbage can. In one sprayed variation, the recycling logo was first replaced with a swastika; which was then scratched out and another recycling symbol was sprayed next to it, this time with the man throwing away the Star of David. Two years later, the Star of David was also removed a black hand with the slogan DOSTA (meaning: enough!) appeared. Here, for the first time, we see three groups using and directly competing for the public space in Sarajevo. Those who sprayed the swastika, which in the context of the former Yugoslavia can stand for something as broad as intolerance, the group reacting to being called fascists by trashing the Star of David, and another group calling out enough to these activities.13 13 DOSTA is a network of social activists that grew out of the conscientious objector movement that recently has taken on other social and human rights issues in their campaigns. 169 The second set of graffiti, that appeared a few years, later helps to point towards the groups that refer to each other using WW II symbols. Here kissing girls, or the universal symbols for male and female gender are drawn next to each other in a way indicating homosexual and non-heterosexual relationships. These images were again crossed out, this time with a symbol we already know, with HZ. Now, the swastika which appears refers to those intolerant towards homosexual concepts of partnership, as this image was sprayed the night after visitors of a gay art festival at Sarajevo’s Art Academy were attacked by conservative Muslims, apparently Wahhabi followers, in 2008. As a reaction, the Star of David was chosen as a symbol for those following a ‘Western,’ ‘American,’ and generally ‘sinful new world order.’ Here, playing with the stereotype that American money corrupts morals and dominates the world, the black DOSTA hand calling to stop this belongs to an EUfinanced, Balkan-wide initiative. Both sets of graffiti show one more interesting relationship, radical Muslims and HZ hooligans apparently share similar values, which in this case are also shared by the local orthodox and catholic clergymen, while the variable of chosen sexual identity introduces a new factor influencing local positionings. Leaving the pedestrian zone On the left a park opens up, named again after Alija Izetbegović, displaying next to a war memorial for the local police units the Ecce Homo Statue, one of the few reminders of the 1984 Winter Olympics in its center.14 On the surrounding benches a collection of elderly people can be seen once again trying to sell some used clothes, self-made honey or jam and in thewinter sometimes roasted chestnuts from a self-made cart. On most sunny days, a big crowd of men playing chess on a chess board that is part of the park itself can be observed, surrounded by an even bigger crowd of pigeons and stray dogs sleeping in the bushes. The inner pedestrian zone comes to an end at the Vječna vatra, the Eternal flame, erected in memory of the suffering of the Second World War and the heroes of the cities three ethnic groups who fought for the Partisans liberating Sarajevo. The eternal flame, ignited in 1946, according to some local stories never stopped burning during the last war. Whether this is true or not, especially for the older generation it is a symbol of pride 14 Markowitz, Sarajevo, p. 8. 170 and resistance, while for many youngsters and tourists it is a meeting point for nights out in the city. Occasionally the flames are also a place for protests, and one of the few larger organized protests of Roma in Bosnia occured here; for them the flame, which does not remember their victimhood of the WW II terror regimes, stands symbolically for the fact that their situation has not changed.15 Veliki Park On the last meters through the central city district one reaches on the left yet another enormous shoppingmall, the BBI – Bosna Bank International – centerwith a huge open space in front of it oftenused for public viewing events of concerts or the soccer world championship. The BBI center is normally well visited every day, many young people can be observed browsing through the expensive shops, but under closer observation, we notice that most people that enter the building leave it without shopping bags – shopping here means window shopping and maybe affording a coffee. Many people who visit the BBI center cross over the street and walk into theVeliki Park, one of the favorite parks formanyBosnians and one of the city’s oldest public parks aswell. Its age andmeaning, not only in terms of leisure time, can be guessed when one notices, in irregular patterns and in various stages of decay, white grave stones dating back to the Ottoman times when the park was a Muslim graveyard. Next to the old stones two more memorial sites exist today, one a little bit hidden in the woods for Bosniak Šehidi, heroes or martyrs depending on one’s interpretation of the term, who died during the war when they were commanded in an act of consolidating power in a smaller leadership circle to relieve one local warlord Mušan ‘Caco’ Topalović of the command of his militia and incorporate the unit into the ARBiH. Gangsters such as these, necessary in the beginning for the political elite to defend the city, became more and more challenging as the war continued; those who did not fall in line once the Bosniak army was well enough situated were removed. Themore visible secondmemorial, which takes the form of a huge green glass fountain with the handprints of children on the bronze basinmemorialize themore than 1,000 children that died during the siege. The bronze for this installation was gained 15 Ibid., pp. 36–37. 171 through the melting down of cartridges that were fired at the city during the war. Next to Veliki Park is Mali Park, the small park, which opposes the Palace of the Presidency and has become famous in recent years as a gathering ground for protests; which lately appear more and more frequently, continue longer, attract larger crowds, and have become more violent over the years. Although the issues have broadened, they generally always come down to dissatisfactionwith the ineffective and corrupt government, catalyzed by high unemployment numbers and dwindling standards of life while prices for everyday commodities are felt to be rising. In 2013 one of the political deadlocks between the two entities that led to a hold in the issuing of new registration cards to newborn children, which prohibited travel and in one case prevented a potentially lifesaving trip to receive expert medical treatment outside of Bosnia for a sick baby, brought up to 10,000 people to the streets. The so called ‘Bebolucija,’ a name derived from combining the Bosnian terms for ‘baby’ and ‘revolution,’ produced another very prominent graffiti symbol: a pacifier in the shape of a black fist, closely resembling the fist-symbol used by OTPOR, the group that was heavy involved in ending the Milosević regime in Serbia. A new dimension of widespread dissolution, together with a willingness to bring this emotion to the streets, could be witnessed inwhat some labeled the Bosnian spring in 2014. What started in Tuzla after the termination of workers’ contracts in a furniture factory, spread throughout Bosnia and led, after days filled with burning cars, violent riots and even the torching of parts of the Presidency building, to the resignation of several cantonal governments.16 Citizen plenumswere formed, and attempted to work on fundamental changes to the political system; those however soon were drowned in internal disagreements and the major flooding of the following spring allowed the old political elite to once again establish order through the distribution of aid.17 Since the spring of 2014, no comparably large group of protesters has been standing outside the presidency’s palace, but the issues that led to the last protests have not been resolved and the only visible change lies in the better equipment of the police patrols. Behind the presidency are the municipal and cantonal government and administration offices and on 16 European Commission, “Bosnia and Herzegovina 2014 Progress Report,” p. 9. 17 International Crisis Group, “Bosnia’s Future,” pp. 3–4. 172 the opposite street corner is the Ministry of Health. In front of it, posters warning about the silent killers of life and relationships: depression, substance abuse, war-related traumata and stress disorders, all topics not widely discussed publically and probably also not at home, highlights yet another factor that might play into the positioning of individuals and groups. In a time in which many Sarajevoans are still sick from the war, being positioned as weak, impotent, or crazy, are forms of victimization that do not allow a repositioning into a wounded war hero, but are rather a stigma that weighs heavily on individuals and affect the whole family in what is still a highly patriarchal society.18 Turning right at the ministry a final place will complete our initial exploration. A little ways down on Alipašhina, the main street leading North through Sarajevo, lies the Central City Graveyard, a place in use by all denominations and therefore helpful in completing the picture of the current groupings as well as indicative of the actual ratio between some of the larger groups. Gradsko groblje ‘Bare’ Sarajevo Upon entering Gradsko groblje ‘Bare,’ the City Graveyard at the Ponds, one can find a huge map that in its legend marks, by a number and color scheme, eight distinct denominations, or ways how people can chose to identify themselves and their families. That the map dates back to socialist times is unveiled when studying these groups and noting that ‘Atheist’ is listed first. After atheist, all the following denominations are listed in alphabetical order, and the list reads as follows: Atheists, Adventists, Evangelists, Jews, K(C)atholics, Muslims, Orthodox, and Old-K(C)atholics. The graveyard, it appears, until today offers more freedom to self-identify than most public institutions, or even the recent census, which only had four options (Bosniak, Croat, Serb and Other). Examining how the different sections are in use, and what changes in the burial practices one can observe might now even allow a view into the personal lives and decisions for the last and final representation of the family in the public sphere outside of ethno-national politics. We start at the central celebration hall, a socialist architecture of a half round buildingwith five gates, behind each of which a room for the last prayers and farewell before the burial can be held. The five separate rooms, we note through a symbol over each of the entrance gates, are reserved for 18 Donia, Sarajevo, p. 341. 173 what must have been once the city’s largest groups – reading from left to right: Muslims, Orthodox, Atheists, Catholics, and Jews. We may therefore also expect that it is these groups that also will take up the majority of the grave sections. The sections for Adventists, Evangelists, and Old-Catholics are very small; the stones are old and even under closer examination of the dates and gravesites no recent burial can be noted. The Jewish section right next to these however is onlymarginally bigger and only very fewgraves have been added since the recent war. This is evenmore indicative of the current size of the Jewish community in Sarajevo, since this community has, currently, no other graveyards in use – since the old Jewish cemetery on one of the hills ran out of space decades ago. Next to the Jewish section is the central section called A0 Park, a place on which one can find selected graves of former Yugoslav functionaries and their families. The gravestones here vary in size, in alphabet used (Latin or Cyrillic), and while many have a socialist red star depicted, none show any religious symbols. This changes the moment one steps into the Catholic or Orthodox section of the graveyard; walking from the older to the newer graves in each of these sections one can observe changes in the styles of chosen gravestones. Today most stones are from the same polished black marble and hold pictures of the remembered etched into the stone next to simple versions of the representative crosses. These new stones however stand in contrast to the old stones made from various materials not as common. The numbers of recent burials also suggest that either the majority of Serbs and Croats now wish to be buried at other graveyards, like the one we saw in the middle of the highway circle when we entered Sarajevo, or that their share of the Sarajevo community is declining. Some of the graves in the sections that date back to the last war show a highly interesting double symbologywhere a lily is depicted next to a cross, reminding us that during the war Serbs and Croats also died in the city, and some of them while fighting on the side of the Bosniak army for a vision of a multicultural post war Bosnia. These lilies serve as a Bosnian, not Bosniak symbol, and denote the inhabitants of these graves as Bosnians adhering to Christianity, citizens first and not ethnic constituents. For the most part the Serb graves are separated from the Croat ones by a section of atheist gravestones in between. The reason behind this remains a riddle for the foreigner, however those middle sections of 174 atheists appear to thin out the closer one steps to the current years. Most Atheist graves date back to the socialist times and those that show recent use tell us either by the dates that here someone rests who has lived for the majority of the lifetime under socialism, or by the names of family members that this could be a grave of a mixed ethnic family. Today being buried in the Atheist section does not automatically indicate a fervent supporter or nostalgic dreamer of socialism, on the contrary it in most cases does not allow any association with a political ideology at all, which in turn might be the reason for this choice to begin with. In the end it might be the last chance to escape being positioned along political lines in the public space today; albeit a choice, given the number of recent graves here, that appears not appealing to many. With the observation that seven of the eight groups present apparently have stagnated or declined in their use of this burial space, we turn to the Bosniak side of the graveyard. Even without the help of the map, the white marble stones in stark contrast to the black of the other large sectionsmake it easy to find. Walking from the older sections towards the newer ones no decline in need of space is apparent, on the contrary the extensions of the graveyard seem all to have beenmade to accommodate the needs of the Muslim community of Sarajevo. Here again a certain style has become the dominant discourse over time, more and more of the floral ornaments one can see on the old graves have vanished while, starting with the graves of the early 1990s, Arabic scripture appears first next to Latin script, and now often totally replacing it. Sometimes the names are colored in green or gold and some of the graves show a simple lily as the only ornament. If what we see at this central graveyard resembles the actual situation in Sarajevo today, then it is unquestionable that the capital of Bosnia is Bosniak dominated. Looking closer at the different generations, like layers of the earth, we see a strong tendency toward homogenizationwithin the most current layers: all stones, all graves, look uniform. This is remarkable because, despite certain regulations by the graveyard administration and religious and cultural norms, looking at the old graves shows us that there was a degree of freedom of private choice in how to design the last public appearance of one’s loved ones, a freedom maybe only limited by one’s personal economic situation. So why do the majority of families today choose this homogenous and newly puritan aesthetic? 175 Hero making, part I. One answer presents itself towards the middle of the Bosniak section, on a place not depicted on the map at the entrance. In white marble an open-air mosque has been erected recently. Next to a podium for prayer out of polished stone plates stands a minaret equipped with modern loudspeakers to send the call for prayer over the entirety of the graveyard, as well as flag poles on which the Bosniak army flag is permanently flown, visible for everyone. At the foot of the flag pole is a memorial for the Bosniak Šehidi, who gave their lives to defend Sarajevo. Just as the actual meaning of Šehidi, which, depending on one’s perspective, can lay anywhere on the spectrum between simply ‘hero’ and on the extreme end ‘martyr who died during jihad’, remains opaque, so too does the criteria determining who actually counts as such.19 Not everyone who fought and even died for the ARBiH is a Šehidi today.20 The Croats and Serbs with the lilies on their graves are not Šehidi, in the sameway as not every Bosniak veteran is automatically a hero; those that died in the line of duty, those in higher commands, or those who have earned a golden lily, the highest bravery awardmight be counted in this category, only as long as they and their families remain loyal to the wartime Bosniak elite and follow their guidance. Making heroes is a political act carried out by of those in charge of wartime memories, including wartime profiteers and veterans unions and those who control the media and news, and is a highly spatial practice as we have seen on several occasions throughout Sarajevo today. Many of the street signs have not only changed their color from blue to green and simultaneously dropped the Cyrillic alphabet in favor of the Latin script, but streets, places, and buildings throughout the city have also been renamed.21 Streets are named after heroes from ancient times and recent wars, but also intellectuals, pop stars and sportsmen whose ethnic affiliation was seen as unquestionably loyal to the cause of the 19 See Xavier Bougarel for an introduction and discusses of the concept of šehidi. Xavier Bougarel, “Death and theNationalist:Martyrdom,WarMemory andVeteran Identity among Bosnian Muslims,” in The New Bosnian Mosaic: Identities, Memories and Moral Claims in a Post-War Society, ed. Xavier Bougarel, Elissa Helms, and Ger Duijzings (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), pp. 168—177. 20 Maček, War Within, p. 171. 21 Ibid., p. 170–171. 176 ethno-nationalist Bosniak elite in Sarajevo. Prominent examples are not only the main pedestrian street but also the City Sport Hall, now named after basketball player Mirza Delibavsić, and the Koševo Stadium, the old Olympic Stadium, named after soccer legend Asim Ferhatović.22 But there is a second spatial practice in conjunction with the establishment of heroes by the elite, which one can maybe best observe in the official war hero graveyard in Kovavci, Šehidsko groblje, a little ways up the hill from the Old Market. Here at Šehidsko groblje the elite and heroes of thewar found their last peace neatly arranged around a central shrine, the grave of Alija Izetbegović himself. Surrounded by his most loyal commanders, supporters and other heroes many of which served for the Bosniak Special Forces, the Green Berets. Here even the grave of the warlordwho became too independent andwas assassinatedwhen he refused to incorporate hismilitia into the main ARBiH command structures, Mušan ‘Caco’ Topalović, can be found, in a place in respectful distance and put back into the hierarchy behind Izetbegović.23 Being close to a Šehidi, even in death, is a symbol of one’s influence and that of one’s family. Being a family member, widow or child of a Šehidi can in some cases allow someone access to powerful networks. It also allows for the collection of a special pension, a pension in Sarajevo only paid to widows of a recognized Bosniak hero, worth more than the average state pensions.24 Collecting this pension itself comeswith some restrictions. The distributors of these pensions are mostly Islamic aid agencies such as the Vienna-based International Islamic Relief Organization (IGASA) and expect that women who accept those funds in turn become devout Muslims by their standards, expressing their gratitude through the portrayal of conservative Muslim practices such as the wearing of a full headscarf when in public and sending one’s children to religious institutions for education.25 Hero-making today is not only a way of deciding the meaning of a public space but also of continuously creating and nourishing strong loyalty networks through thedistributionof small funds and recognition, so needed in times of high unemployment and widespread poverty. 22 Halilovich, Places of Pain, p. 107. 23 Ibid., p. 105. 24 Bougarel, “Death and the Nationalist,” p. 184. 25 Maček, War Within, p. 170. 177 For those who have lost their loved ones, donations from Turkey or Saudi Arabia can mean survival and maybe a better future for their children. The cost for this gratitude is to not oppose some elites’ visions of a Bosniak Bosnia or even of a new form of dominance and purity of Bosnian Islam – this adapted conformity is maybe the answer for the rows and rows of identical headstones on the recent graves. Showing alliance through the last representation of the dead in the public appears to have become an attempt to secure the family’s immediate future. But what are the long-term costs of these practices? And how far are they spread? How does this new homogeneity and harmony found on the graveyard go together with the violent protests in front of the presidential palace? Why, if the graveyard is such a political stage, are the graves from families, religions, and opposing political ideas long vanished from Sarajevo still so well kept up and not left to decay as we have seen in Mostar at the partisan graveyard? Is Sarajevo in fact a peaceful and tolerant, multicultural place of coexistence as the UNESCO heritage application suggests? Šetanje Walking back from the graveyard towards the Old Market, we join the regular evening crowd of city dwellers. Engaging in the practice of šetanje, of walking with one’s friends and family through the old town, motivated without a need for consumption, but simply by the joy and practice of being part of it. Greeting left and right people one knows, šetanje becomes a communal event but also adisplayof one’s connections and claim of one’s space and position in the city of Sarajevo.26 Thosewho do not know and greet at least several dozen people while strolling ar,e in the eyes of the old city families, not real Sarajevoans, not real Sarajlije (yet). This pride is reflected in the very practice of šetanje, which dates back to Austro-Hungarian times and sprung up again the moment the warwas over, showing to thosewho had endured that at least one part of their culture, while families and buildingswere destroyed, had survived. This evening’s crowd is mixed and colorful; all generations, styles and dresses, from burkas to hot pants are present, inseparable in many cases from the hundreds of tourists, slowly walking and chatting. 26 Markowitz, Sarajevo, pp. 32—38. 178 When the sun goes down, these colors however fade quickly and the streets and passages around the Old Market empty soon after the last ćevapi or cigarette has been enjoyed. The place does not remain empty for long, and next to the occasional tourist returning to one of the pensions around the bazar, dealers, junkies and prostitutes appear in some of the dark passages and alley ways that are not yet under permanent surveillance of security cameras. The white and new pavement, dimly lit by distant neon signs of multimillion dollar consortiums, makes the contrast between the haves and have-nots very clear: While one controls the place even in their absence, the others have to hide their presence.27 Of course this relationship is not as one-dimensional as it appears at first. Especially since control, as we can witness, can take various forms, from codified rules and regulations enforced, to widely shared practices leading the police officers to chase the Roma children off the market at daytime, to economic opportunities and incentives in both the daytime and nighttime businesses, and finally evenmurder. While selling sweets to tourists through a registered, insured, and tax paying Slastičarnica, a pastry shop, during daytime, the same Albanian Gaši mafia clan controls the drug market at night just around the corner from the same market stall — the latter nowadays unopposed since the strongest local competitor and wartime entrepreneur himself, Ramiz Delalić ‘Ćelo’ has been assassinated.28. Ćelo received a large public funeral at Šehidsko groblje and rests close to his Old Town and his old comrades Caco and Izetbegović. What the Ćelo’s, Caco’s, Radončić, Miškovićs, Izetbegovićs show us it that the post war elite competing for influence and a market share in Sarajevo are extremely heterogeneous, not only in ethnic terms but also in the very ways they choose to compete. What unites the elite, whether they choose to affiliate with any ethnic group or not, whether they choose to broaden their potential customer base to include those that might shop for new brand name clothes offered in an atmosphere of glittery shopping malls, or if they rally along ethno-national lines 27 As Mikula demonstrates, the cleavages between rich and poor have been developing since the 1960s and consuming power was a measure for status and class distinction well before the war. Mikula, “Highway of Desire.” 28 Markowitz, Sarajevo, p. 103; Peter Lippman, “Report from Bosnia Nr. 6 (2008): Tuzla,” accessed November 8, 2012, http://balkanwitness.glypx.com/journal2008- 6.htm. 179 only promising support to those who follow their version of Bosnia’s future, is that in order to become or remain a successful trend-setter, the elite depends on the ‘in-between,’ the people of Sarajevo. In order to gain, maintain, and increase influence and control, they need the loyalties, votes, KMs, and sometimes fists of the Sarajlije. Analyzing the current ripples inside the Sarajevo community and especially within its dominant Bosniak body, therefore, promises to not only help us locate the sources of the heightening tensions we could observe during the Bosnian Spring, but in the very same second might show us who is most suffering under the current positionings. While it is possible that none of the factions within the Bosniak community are right now forced and frozen, one has to suspect that the current differentiation processes, if they are not from the beginning on elite-driven, might sooner or later be monopolized andmanipulated for personal gain. Looking at the internal dynamics of this group that initially seemed so homogenousmight allow us to shed more light onto the positionings of those groups that, judging by their gravesmust still be a part of Sarajevo althoughwe have not been able to identify them in the public space, and those forced into the dark passages of Baššaršija. HZ versus TM: “Stand your ground Old Town” The first conflict between two groups we witnessed was in the form of a crossed out graffiti behind the Catholic Cathedral in the Old Town. This rivalry between the organized hooligan firms of the two local soccer clubs goes beyond the issue of sport today and their influence has reached central questions of communal life, as the HZ reactions to the gay rights parade showed. TheManiacs and theHorde of Evil originated shortly before the war as radical and violent wings inside the fan blocks supporting either FK Željezničar Sarajevo or FK Sarajevo. The name Željezničar, railway workers, indicates, together with the place of their home stadium in Grbavica, in the West of the City close to the streetcar depot, that their traditional supporters come from the working class, and until today this association is part of the fan’s pride. FK Sarajevo who plays in the recently renamed Olympic Stadium, on the other hand, became the club supported by public servants, local functionaries and dignitaries, by the socialist ‘middle’ class. With the socialist-orchestrated industrialization of Bosnia in the 1960s and 1970s, and the accompanying 180 increased need for industrial workers, the composition of the local working class changed. More and more young people and families left their peasant life andmoved from the villages andmountains to Sarajevo and other industrial centers. These general identifiers of economic status and roots in either city or country life acquired more layers during and after the recent war. During the initial phase of the war, the defense of Sarajevo heavily relied on local organizations that were loyal to the city, their neighborhood, or one of the local leaders; and next to municipal police units and territorial defense units, workers unions, and gangs of released prisoners and soccer hooligan organizations, took up arms.29 HZ andTM were particularly active in defending their parts of town, around their stadiums. Once the ARBiH took over control of the defense, many HZ and TM members joined their ranks. Once the war was over and the stadiums renovated, soccer and the derbies between both teams came back to the city; at the same time HZ and TM, now exclusive Bosniak organizations, reappeared in the fan stands. At this point, with more political influence through wartime network, including political parties and veterans unions, and war identities, both organizations asked for more respect and treatment as heroes, not only in the local realm of their traditional neighborhoods but as heroes for all of Sarajevo.30 And here is where a new level of conflict between HZ and TM appeared, the question of who was the first to take up arms, who fought the hardest, suffered more and therefore is the only true hero today. Fighting over the acceptance and reputation of being a hero is not a tough guy’s leisure time activity, but must carry more meaning, as we could witness at the central graveyard, letting us suspect that the other variables traditionally defining HZ and TMmust have a meaning in the wider Sarajevo Bosniak community as well. In other words, how important are one’s roots in city or country traditions, one’s family legacy in one particular part of the city, one’s occupation and training, and one’s actions and decisions during war – if one stayed, fought, left, left and returned – for the current positionings? 29 Burg and Shoup, War in Bosnia, p. 138. 30 Emir Imamović, describes the connection between political elites and the leaders of hooligan organizations, how hooligan firms act and see themselves as a political voice wherever politicians cannot raise a controversial topic in fear of sanctions.Imamović, “Name of the Game,” p. 268. 181 Shades of Green From the old Ottoman caravanserai, via the Habsburg-Hungarian Old Library and the socialist apartment blocks, to the glass and steal AVAZ tower, the buildings of Sarajevo tell us a story of permanent change, a change often brought from the outside, from new rulers with new demands and visions, soon thereafter adopted and later on preserved by the city community as part of their city pride. The changes in aesthetics and leadership also point towards changes in the composition of the Sarajevo community, mirrored in the central graveyard and a continuous process positioning between the old-new and the soon to be new-old. The interaction between the old and the new, between those who have made the last changes to their own identity and those who come with more changes in their luggage, can be expected to have been difficult throughout the city’s history. Došljaci, newcomers, whether they come asnewruling elite or as internallydisplacedpeopleduringwartime, pose potential threats or opportunities to challenge or change the current positionings to all of those who have been there for longer. Especially those who have obtained a beneficial and influential positioning in the current order might, if they perceive their position to be threatened, engage in various strategies with the hope of remaining influential; from either quick assimilation if the newcomers are perceived as very powerful – a good example are the conversion rates to Islam once the Ottomans succeeded in occupying the area – to prolonged exclusion if the newcomers are seen as inferior, as in the case of the Roma. Given the situation of Sarajevo as the biggest regional city, most newcomers over time have not come from Vienna or Istanbul but from less urban areas. Stereotypes surrounding city superiority and countryside backwardness are common and particularly strong when mixed with elements of envy, as was seen during the socialist relocation of farmers as industrial workers to the new Novo Sarajevo.31 Their move from the village into the modern city, surpassing the Old Town on the way altogether, with all the new amenities and luxuries the NewCity offered, the newcomers were met with reservation and stereotypes. It was said that 31 Anders Stefansson, “Urban Exile: Locals, Newcomers and theCultural Transformation,” in The New Bosnian Mosaic: Identities, Memories and Moral Claims in a Post-War Society, ed. Xavier Bougarel, Elissa Helms, and Ger Duijzings (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), p. 61. 182 they, the newcomers, would use the new balconies to keep and slaughter animals, that they did not know why it rains in their bathroom, playing with the element of education, cleanliness, andmodernity reflected in an indoor shower amenity, or that they would ruin the new town because they make fires and burn garbage in the front yards. Certain diminishing identifiers were used particularly often, and until today terms such as, seljačine (big peasant, country bumpkins), papci (meaning hooves, hillbillies) and the very common gorštaci (people form the mountains) remain in use. Additional known denominators for new comers are primitivici (primitives) and, along those lines of local associations with more primitive cultures, Afrikanci (Africans), or Indianci (Indians).32 These and similar expressions to indicate the old citizen’s positionings and claims to deserved social status, reappeared in the recent war when a heterogeneous group of newcomers arrived in Sarajevo. This time the repertoire of positioning stereotypes was extended and more complex, at the same time as both the categories of new and old underwent several redefinitions. One of the concepts of ‘New’ in terms of being outside the ‘Old’ is the example of the municipality of Istočno Novo Sarajevo, often called New Sarajevo for Serbs. In this sense, even Old Sarajevo is a new version today because it is in itself dominated by a Bosniak group. Inside this Bosniak community, old Sarajlije is a positioning no longer reserved just for those families with a long family line through Sarajevo’s past, but also applies to those who were part of the city before and during the war. Having stayed, endured, witnessed extreme loss, survived or maybe even fought, is a central element in the self-concept of the current old, excluding thosewho left, left and returned, andmaybe evenmore so thosewho arrived during or after thewar.33 Those nowOld Sarajlijewere the ones who revived šetanje and see themselves as the glue holding up the city with its traditions; and out of this self-concept grows the claim to a special and respected position in the post-war order. “Stand your ground Old Town” in the HZ graffiti now comes to its full meaning. This claimed social superiority argued by time and endurance is a position challenged in different ways by the new newcomers, a maybe even more heterogeneous group that, for an outside observer, appears to be comprised of three larger but in many ways overlapping fractions. 32 Ibid., p. 66–67. 33 Sorabji, “Managing memories,” p. 5. 183 The largest fraction by population size is the group of new residents who came during the war as Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs), people who had to leave their towns or villages because they lost their homes and livelihoods to the war and stayed in Sarajevo because of fears of return and the hopes of a better chance for themselves and their families in Sarajevo than in their pre-war homes. Ivana Maček estimates that up to 150,000 of the approximately 450,000 residents of Sarajevo could be considered IDPs.34 Many of the IDPs received apartments during and after the war offered by the Bosniak leadership, apartments that previously had been evacuated by Serb or Croat families. This redistribution of living spaces caused a long and in many cases violent process of returning, moving, and exchanging homes, creating more and more ethnically homogenous suburbs and city quarters after the war.35 Many of these newcomers came frommountainous regions or other cultural spheres in Bosnia and were met with classic stereotypes. Looking closer, a regional differentiation in how welcome these newcomers are can be established. Based on the work of Stefansson, Sanžaklije, people form the Sandžak region, a region bordering Serbia, Montenegro and Kosovo, aremet with the biggest reservations andmany hold them to be extremely radical and nationalistic; those from East Bosnia’s mountain regions are more seen as uncultured mountain people; and those Hercegovci, while more urban than the rest while still different in their culture, are seen as more closed and distrustful in the eyes of the pre-war Bosniak community in Sarajevo.36 All of the above show that old positioning stories are still at work, this time in conjunction with new suspicions and fears, which introduce the second fraction of new comers. Some Sarajlije believe that many of the IDPs, especially from the mountainous regions, who are seen as less informed and therefore easily susceptible to nationalist populism, have been brought to Sarajevo by the newwar elite, mainly the founding cadres of the SDA, to later on resemble a loyal block of supporters who 34 Maček, War Within, p. 106. 35 Hariz Halilovich describes cases in which returnees who had gained their pre-war homes back felt too insecure in neighborhoods that after the war were dominated by a different ethnic group, that they decided to swap houses with families from another ethnic group, sometimes from different towns, resulting in even more homogenous neighborhoods.Halilovich, Places of Pain, pp. 40, 168—169. 36 Stefansson, “Urban Exile,” pp. 71—73. 184 will serve as a political counter balance to the old city elite after the war is over.37 Radončić’s, recent success with his SBB BiH as well as the existence of two strong competitors to Izebegović’s SDA today are both seen as proof of this theory. The second group of newcomers is not easily separable from the first, and is comprised of those who, in general, are seen as opportunists. Some of the IDPs are seen as opportunists that took the chance to leave the rural life in favor of the luxuries of the city, while others in this category include wartime elites and new tycoons that stake their claim in the richness of the city through wartime networks in a capitalist market, and in many cases also illegally. Here the second group of newcomers opens up into what one might consider a third group, characterized by the faraway places they come from. From international aid workers who stayed, to businessmen and religious leaders during and after the war, several thousand internationals lived and worked in Sarajevo, changing the face of the city. While the peak times in which tens of thousands of international workers lived in Sarajevo are over and some of their favorite spots and restaurants have already closed down – the only Chinese restaurant is out of service now – the remainders of this group continue to challenge city life. FK Sarajevo is now owned by aMalaysian millionaire, the Albanian mafia controls parts of the underground business, Saudi Arabia is financing mosques and shopping centers, Turkish elites have built two private universities and, judging by the number of branches, most bank accounts today must be run through Italian, German, or Turkish banking institutions. Beneath these new developments fostered by the transition of Bosnia’s economy to a free market economy, the international newcomers Sarajlije most often point to in distrust are the members of more conservative Islamic communities, represented by women who are wearing burkas in plain colors and no colorful headscarves. These individuals are seen as the direct result of money coming in from Arab countries, together with radical clergymen – those who came as warriors during the war from places such as Afghanistan – and both are perceived as threats to security and to the old Bosniak identity.38 All types of newcomers are seen as dangerous by the majority of the old, who see themselves as the ones who carried the costs of the war, and 37 Ibid., pp. 74. 38 Sorabji, “Managing memories,” p. 5. 185 the burden to support the IDPs, while they were themselves, through the long siege, deprived of their savings, leaving not enough to invest into new opportunities at the same level as they had done before. Competition for market and political influence cannot alone explain these tensions, which are more complex and tied to elements of pride, pride in the old ways, as we have seen surfacing at times on our walk, demonstrating that much of the current positioning is happening along the line of protecting the old ways of life (next to the old economic and power structures). The reasons for this are many, but the comfort and safety familiar structures of interaction offer, together with the justification of one’s past actions, which established and nourished those structures to beginwith, are probably central motivators. In this sense everything bad that happens today, whether it is actually a new phenomenon or something that just recently has become noticed but existed for much longer, can be blamed on the newcomers. Drugs, prostitution and corruption alike are symptoms of the new arrivals. Behind these accusations stands an observed or felt decline of the city identity, of what Sarajevo stood for in the past, what it meant and what it meant to live there. European or Little Jerusalem The UNESCO application from 1997 highlights some of the old selfconcept of the city, shaped by and shaping the pre-war community: Sarajevo with its many traditions is often referred to as Little or European Jerusalem.39 A place of multicultural peaceful coexistence, a cradle of tolerance towards other forms of life, a center of education, preservation of history, and curiosity of the new. A true European metropolis, crowned through historic beauty and tragedy, of being the place associated with the start of World War I, and seventy years later of the Olympic games. Pride in its history, in its Habsburg Hungarian educational foundations, represented in libraries, universities, a blooming theater, opera and arts scene mixed with the riches of Ottoman cuisines and skills of trade and craft, and the latest Yugoslav advantages resulting from strategic non-alignment politics. A place in which people lived who knew about their past, embraced the current, and looked forward to future improvements.40 Today especially, the high amount of mixed 39 Markowitz, Sarajevo, p. 27. 40 Hronešová, Everyday Ethno-National Identities, p. 72. 186 marriages before the war is often highlighted as proof of the tolerance of the Sarajevo community, in the same second as shared religious holidays and practices are remembered as typical for this community, embracing variety in a world of educated socialist atheism in which religion could not and was not publically instrumentalized. This makes one wonder if this is maybe the reason why all the graves, even from those groups and families not present in the city any longer, are kept in thatmeticulousway at the central graveyard. This could be, as Hariz Halilovich, observed in other Bosnian places a deed done to keep alive the old community and values for those who survived.41In this memory of little Jerusalem are strong elements of pride and responsibility. The desire to make sure no one else endangers this concept, one’s ideal concept favorable to one’s ideal self-positioning, could explain why the old citizens took over the charge in forming citizens plenums during the spring protests, but also why they feel the need to exclude others too challenging to their picture of Little Jerusalem. This peaceful city, the Little Jerusalem, has ceased to exist for those who remember it and the picture they hold up is the golden past they would like to resurrect and that guides emotions and decisions towards the new. The death of Little Jerusalem came in the early 1990s and for the Old Sarajlije it came from the mountains.42 While the city marched for peace, uneducated nationalistic opportunists took the city and its ways hostage, they killed the people and shelled the cultural institutions, one by one, from the mountains. What started with burning the Old Library and destroying other cultural institutions is now continued through politicians who cannot find money to keep the National Museum open, fight corrupt practices in the universities, or stop the blooming of alien religiousmovements and violent attacks of visitors to the gay art festival. The powerful sentiments connected to the understanding that the peaceful old times in the Old Town have come to an end by the invasion of the others from the mountains is so powerful that nationalist politicians have started using this story with a slight twist. While for many old Sarajlije the mountains are comprised of people from all ethnic groups, Bosniak politicians like to point towards the Barbarization of the city by the Serbs coming from the hills – highlighting the Bosniak 41 Halilovich, Places of Pain, p. 83. 42 Sorabji, “Managing memories,” p. 4. 187 tradition of Multicultural peace and coexistence challenged by Serb and Croat nationalism.43 The use of general fears and stereotypes in politics is, over twenty years after the war, still common today and warns one to not take the Little Jerusalem story itself as anything other than social truth, truth for those who tell it and believe in it. The dominance of the Bosniak story and its recurrence in many international discourses (from political statements to NGO project proposals) is indicative of the persuasive power of the Bosniak elite and camouflages Bosniak nationalism, extremism and the internal contestations that we can observe in the positionings currently shaping Sarajevo.44 It is not clear what Sarajevo means today, and the challenge to the Old Town is a reversal of the Barbarization thesis. Sarajevo and Belgrade city dwellers started the war, while the city, and especially the suburbs and key areas were defended – like Grbavica through The Maniacs – by the recent new comers from the rural areas. The image of the tolerant old Sarajlije starts to crumble in the eyes of those accused of being the reason for the dismembering of the multicultural texture of Sarajevo inmoments like the violence against the visitors of the gay art festival, which was, while not directly committed by, also definitely not immediately stopped and condemned by, the leaders of the Old City. On the contrary, religious and political authorities from different denominations and members of HZ have demonstrated a high level of intolerance towards alternative forms of life. That this is not a simple post war reaction, but that exclusion, as can maybe best be observed when looking at the history of the local Roma community, has been a practice in place since generations, makes the self-proclaimed values of the Old Town, based on an understanding of tolerance and piety, seem a bit of a double standard. But this is not the only reason why the ‘old’ is not accepted as a role model for many any longer. For many, the recently elected Bosniak member of the presidency, Bakir Izetbegović, son of the wartime leader and first post-war president Alija Izetbegović, is symbolic of the power of old networks that span back before the war and grew even more powerful during it. Further, the old elite is hard to distinguish from the new, post-war corrupt and criminal underground networks. These networks, often called 43 Halilovich, Places of Pain, p. 98. 44 Shrader, Muslim-Croat Civil War, p. XIX. 188 ‘veze’ (connections), are, as Cornelia Sorabji shows. highly important in many ways of life from finding employment, to getting faster and better medical treatment or having the chance to enroll one’s children in a better school.45 And with membership being an exclusive privilege, newcomers see in the stalled politics, the hardship in the suburbs, and the difficulty of finding employment, a willful discrimination of them by the old, who, in the same moment, appear to them as the true opportunists. In combination with the networks manifesting pre-war status and wartime loyalties, the question for many more traditional Muslims and those who recently found religion to be more important in their lives under the newcomers, doubts about the sincerity of the religious beliefs of the old elite leads to a desire to challenge the old superiority structures. In the eyes of many, the old elite has merely recently switched from publically-displayed atheism under socialism to a portrayal of themselves as true Muslim figures today, a switch that needs to prove its true intentions over time, and demonstrate that it is more than short-time opportunism aimed at enlarging one’s influence. In the meantime, religious authority based on old city status is perceived as unjustified. On the contrary, many see in their opportunism challenges to Islam, either from the underlying influenced ofWestern capitalism, or steered by the greater Bosniak nationalist project that highjacks religion as a political tool. With the values the old Sarajlije promote through the interpretation of Sarajevo as little Jerusalem being absent in their very own actions, their positioning as pillars of the Bosniak community is heavily challenged fromwithin themore conservativeMuslim groups today. Only one other grouping might pose an even bigger threat to the old elite because their claims to the prewar rights are not as easily diminished: The Bosniak Returnees, those who left Sarajevo during the war and came back after the guns stopped, equipped with skills, knowledge and experiences collected in Europe, USA, or Australia and new friendships with the international community. While some saw in the returnees hope that culture might come back to the Old Town, and others hopped that the returnees nowwell trained in western consumerismmight boost sales in the new shops and malls, a majority of especially the old elite saw in the returnee community, with its new skills, education, and international 45 Sorabji, “Managing memories,” p. 5. 189 experiences, a huge challenge: Because with all that experience, the returneesmight in the end portray the values of cosmopolitan, educated, tolerant Sarajlije even better than the old elite.46 But this clash did not remain a challenge of who is more tolerant and multicultural, a challenge to the very foundation on which the old Sarajlije had defended the rightfulness of their positions. The very act of return in fact became an act of challenging the power of wartime loyalties and networks, of challenging for some everything they had fought for and gained: their apartments. Elites during the war distributed, as tokens of their appreciation and influence, the apartments of those who left to fighters and their families who had come to Sarajevo. Local heroes and their widows now lived in those places returnees, backed by international powers, came to claim back. The new property laws enforced by internationals in 2001/02 became a public demonstration of weakness for the old elite who could not protect their wartime networks.47 Getting back their old apartments, however, was a huge price for the returnees to pay because it came with open hostility manufactured by elites and locals alike. Envy over international experience and obvious support, over diplomas and years of living without fear of immanent death, together with challenges to the domains of victimhood, heroism, and Sarajevo pre-war status, as became evident when retaking places designated for those who fought for it, created a positioning for the Bosniak returnee community as the worst traitors: as someone who left the others to fight only to later come back and claim the status and space of the winner.48 Bosniak returnees of course see themselves as victims as well; their years as refugees were not easy, many did not return with networks and influence but had to leave once the war was over, only to return and find that all they had leftwere homes nowoccupied by other families from the mountains, their possessions lost or destroyed or owned by someone else now. Gaining back their apartments meant at least having a place, but their livelihood did not improve, since the internationals were leaving. Today, these individuals have no local wartime networks, only groups working against them, no hero pensions, no veterans’ unions to join, and therefore a hard time finding jobs and financial stability. Within 46 Patrick H. Patterson, Bought & Sold: Living and Losing the Good Life in Socialist Yugoslavia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2011), p. 6. 47 Bougarel, “Death and the Nationalist,” p. 187. 48 Sorabji, “Managing memories,” p. 5. 190 the Bosniak community, Bosniak returnees are in a forced position that, given their self-concepts, might appear frozen because the only ways out are difficult, such as leaving the country at a time in which Bosnians have little chance for asylum anywhere, or outside their moral order under which they feel comfortable, in terms of joining one of the more conservativeMuslimcommunities that are growing in exactly those areas inwhichmost returnees live today. These newmore conservative groups are getting more and more influential and compete, as we have seen before, against the old Sarajevo elite, through their ability to challenge the sincerity of religiosity and rightfulness of their spiritual leadership. This race for religious leadership is dangerous and easily could lead to a further radicalization of Islam to create clear positionings. Which, on the other hand, might transform Little Jerusalem into what one of its biggest critics, the leader of the Bosnian Serbs and since 2010 president of the Republica Srpska, Milorad Dodik, calls it since years: Teheran. Teheran Teheran, as a symbol of exclusion and suppression of other groups and their religions and an anti-western worldview, is of course a political choice used to support and justify a Serbian political project aimed at further independence. This outside denomination however points towards the exclusion of several groups within Sarajevo today. It is not only the group of returnees that suffers in the current positioning game between old and new elites, and the growing influence of religion and networks, and it should be noted as well that not all returnees are Bosniak. At the margins of the Bosniak community today, very often people with mixed ethnic backgrounds can be found. This marginalization has been greatly supported by wartime and religious elites, labeling people from mixed backgrounds “unnatural” and children from these marriages “rotten eggs”.49 One’s position and chances while being half Bosniak and half Croat or Serb comes down to a hard decision: of either defining oneself as Bosniak, which for some who possess more Bosniak sounding names is easier than for others with Croat or Serb sounding names, or of defining oneself as Croat, Serb, or the fourth option on the recent census, as other. The first option might allow one to find association within 49 Maček, War Within, p. 115. 191 Bosniak networks and communities, while the latter ones, while potentially more representative of one’s self picture, come close to a frozen position. Choosing to identify as Other as a form of a protest or because all three ethnic definitions reflect certain religious positions that one does not share or feels are the reasons for one’s stigmatization as, for example, homosexual, will automatically exclude one from several public offices as defined by the constitution. Choosing Serb or Croat de facto excludes one in Sarajevo by the daily practices, such as forced early retirement or unequal treatment in hiring processes, resulting from the immediate positioning of these groups as aggressors, nationalists, and therefore enemies to themulticultural Bosnia as promoted through Little Jerusalem.50 The potential choice of those with at least partial Bosniak heritage is not a choice all other local groups outside the Bosniak community have in Sarajevo. With the exception of a very limited group belonging to a financial elite, or even fewer high ranking officers of the former Jugoslav army that, from the beginning on decided to fight for the ARBiH and due to their military skills have gained local trust and influence, most Serbs and Croats who stayed or returned to Sarajevo after the war are socially and physically ostracized in their own capital. While it is hard to connect to pre-war friendships, due to a deep-rooted suspicion that Serbs and Croats who left during the war might have been involved in attacking the city or the ARBiH form the outside, the lack of political support and economic opportunities have led many to a secluded life in the suburbs.51 Most Croats and Serbs are so excluded that one can hardly find them in the public space, outside of the government positions regulated by quotas, and even here occasionally Bosniaks defining themselves as Serbs or Croats take up those seats. This positioning lets those communities turn away from Sarajevo and towards their own capitals in Banja Luka and Mostar; and, as the graveyard indicated, many have likely already decided to leave. Equally excluded are, once again, the Roma communities, although they receive political attention when local politicians talk about successful integration in front of international 50 Pickering, Peacebuilding in the Balkans, pp. 91–92; Maček,War Within, pp. 220–221. 51 Sorabji, “Managing memories,” pp. 8, 14. 192 bodies. However, open access to schools does not change their constant positioning as ‘Others’.52 Sarajevo today is a place ruled by competition between old traditions and the promises of new freedoms and opportunities. The once Little Jerusalem has today become a Bosniak community. This community, however, is still heterogeneous and the spectrum of shades of green are very broad, much broader than this short excursion could show, ranging from those who still consider themselves as atheist and are only identified by their last name as Bosniak, to those who only occasionally engage in religious practices, to extremely conservative followers of Wahhabi traditions; from many unemployed, pensioners and war widows, to tycoons, from those who endured to those who recently came from faraway places; from those valuing secular education to those sending their children to madrasas, from family values to individual choices about sexuality, ethnicity, and profession, and several strong political parties. These different positionings are not just coexisting, but in many ways have created stigmas that are used to increase influence within the community and expandone side’s gains andpower. Here, different elites chose different approaches, of which most divide the community even further. Seeing these deep divides, one wonders why so little tension is openly visible? What keeps Sarajevo, with all the different understandings of it, together? Is it still the international presence, the market economy, the elites, or in the end the new generation? What happens if the youth leaves, the internationals leave, and the new peacetime local economy stops flourishing and elite competition deepens? These are questions in need of answers, some of which we might find while looking at other places. 52 European Commission, “Bosnia and Herzegovina 2014 Progress Report,” p. 21. 193 Figure 6.1: “Stand your ground Old Town HZ” – Graffiti from supporters of the Horde Zla crossed out by members of The Maniacs 1987 on the back side of the Catholic Cathedral Srca Isusova, Sacred Heart Cathedral (picture taken July 6, 2009) Figure 6.2: Horde Zla – Grafitti of the Hoards of Evil on the ruins of the Olympic bob sled track (picture taken June 14, 2010) 194 Figure 6.3: Gay rights protest and Horde Zla counter protest. Graffiti in an entrance way from Ferhadjia (picture taken June 30, 2013) Figure 6.4: Šehidsko groblje – grave of Alija Izetbegović on the Bosniakwar hero graveyard in Kovavci, Sarajevo (picture taken June 30, 2013) 195

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In this multi-sited ethnography, the author explores how political agency is shaped through interactions on public places across four central Bosnian and Herzegovinian cities. The author shows that everyday life on public places in post-war Bosnia and Herzegovina is fundamentally political: either by design or by default, and that no one can escape the highly dynamic negotiations of rights, duties, and obligations that occur in every public interaction. These positioning games are far from innocent; they create elites, manifest political power, and in the same moment cut out more and more citizens of Bosnia and Herzegovina from the promises set by market economy and democracy. Through examining hundreds of interactions on public spaces ranging from soccer stadiums and market halls to graveyards, this study not only shows how post-war political agency in Bosnia and Herzegovina is bound to the public realm, but also that options for defining one’s personal future are less linked to ethno-national group membership than widely assumed. Instead local, generational, and economic differences play a significant role in determining everyday livelihood. These factors – unique in their composition in every observed place – highlight a new realm of conflict potentials that will shape the future of Bosnia and Herzegovina over the next decade.