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Interviews with senior scholarsInterview with Prof Dr Florian Bieber

Glimpses from the interview with Professor Dr Florian Bieber

Professor Florian Bieber is a notable scholar and expert in the field of political science, particularly known for his work on Southeast Europe, ethnic conflict, nationalism, and the politics of the Western Balkans. He is a professor of Southeast European History and Politics at the University of Graz in Austria. In addition to his academic role, he has served as the director of the Center for Southeast European Studies at the same university. Dr Bieber's research often explores themes related to democratization, ethnic relations, and the influence of international actors in the Balkans. Additionally, Dr Bieber is known for his engagement beyond academia. He regularly shares his expertise through various media, blogs, and public speaking engagements, making his knowledge accessible to a broader audience. He is active in policy discussions, providing insights and recommendations based on his research. His work has made significant contributions to understanding the complex political dynamics of Southeast Europe and promoting peace and stability in the region. Since last year, Dr Bieber has been a senior scholar and part of the Aggressor project. 

Amr Elashmawy: We would like to start with a more general question about your research within the framework of “The Aggressor” Project. Could you please tell us more about it? What is the focus of your study and how does it relate to the broader project? 

Prof Florian Bieber: I have been working mostly on the post-Yugoslav space in my academic career. I am particularly interested in the legacies of the 1990s, as well as questions of democratization and current regimes in the Western Balkans. For this particular project, I am focusing on how the 1990s are debated, particularly in Serbia today, but also in the larger region comprising the countries that participated in the wars of the 1990s.

The question I am exploring is: how is the war perceived? Is there any reflection on the wars of the 1990s, or are the debates that led to the wars very similar to the debates we are having now? This suggests a continuity of arguments and debates rather than a rupture, which seemed to be the case in the 2000s, the first decade after the end of the war. I am particularly interested in how discussions about the past—such as who was the aggressor and who was responsible for the wars—feed into contemporary narratives about political claims, as well as the broader positionality of the countries and societies in Europe.

Dr Martin Valkov: As we believe methodological discussions are always important, especially for young scholars who are in the beginning of their academic career, could you, please, elaborate on the methodological aspects of your research? What type of methodological approaches you use and what kind of sources you analyze in order to answer the questions of your research?

I am trained both as a historian and a political scientist and I try to draw, depending on my particular research, on different methods and different sources. This project and this particular angle, of course, focuses mostly on contemporary debates. Media analysis and discourse analysis are central. I am interested in the way in which the wars of the 90s are portrayed in regime media, so I look at tabloids or talk shows which are controlled by the government.

Luckily, it has become a lot easier to methodologically look at those materials today because most of them are available online so one can find them easily. I am also going to look at some speeches by key politicians. Serbia, which is my main focus of research, is a particular research environment, because there we have a situation where the ruling party and the government controls media to such an extent that one cannot talk about a conventional debate in the society but it's much more a one-sided government-led propagation of a particular line. That is something I am interested in rather than the debate as such because it is so limited in the current circumstance. In a certain way, the approaches and methods are discourse analysis of the past literature, which talks about dealing with the past, both comparatively as well as in the particular post-Yugoslav context.  

A. E.: Before moving on to the specifics of the narratives of victimhood and aggression, maybe it would be a good idea to take a step back and generally look at the concept of the Balkans which Maria Todorova studied in her book Imagining the Balkans (1997), where she says that this concept of the Balkans is very much constructed around wars, conflicts, violence, victimhood and aggression throughout history and also leading to the Yugoslav wars. Do you think that there has been a shift in the perception of the region over the last two or three decades?

Well, if you're referring to the perception from the outside, to some degree that is still an important part of the perception of the region. I would say that the region is still not very well known to  the most outsiders so that is why these stereotypes become quite important.

We are having, to some degree, a kind of separation of the region with countries which have joined the European Union, like Romania, Bulgaria or Greece, which has been a member of the European Union for much longer already, or in fact Croatia, which joined a little more than a decade ago. There the narrative shifts a little bit because they're not seen as Balkan anymore. Some countries like Croatia try to de-Balkanize themselves to claim that they are not part of that region anymore but that they are instead much more Central European or Mediterranean.

This perception remains quite strong. In recent years, there has been a growing understanding that the region is often seen as corrupt and authoritarian, which may shift the association away from conflict and more towards issues of governance. It is tricky to discuss this because, while there are certainly governance problems, rule of law issues and authoritarianism, it is important to distinguish between political and societal challenges in the region. These issues are not structurally or inherently tied to the region itself but are rather the products of specific circumstances. Otherwise, the risk is falling into the "Balkanism" that Todorova describes, where the region is viewed as intrinsically flawed and unsalvageable, leading to a defeatist attitude that "the Balkans are just the Balkans," and nothing can be done about it.

I recall overhearing a senior Austrian politician once, when asked why he supported Serbian President Vučić, despite his authoritarian policies, say, “This is just how you do politics in the Balkans.” This perspective is convenient because it allows one to justify, both to oneself and others, why they support authoritarian regimes by claiming that this is simply the way things are in the Balkans.

This perception – that the region is full of corrupt autocrats and there’s nothing that can be done about it – is a powerful one. It perpetuates the idea that the situation is unchangeable and fixed, leading to a lack of effort to bring about change. This can be proven to be wrong, of course, but I think it still remains to be very powerful because it is convenient. 

M. V.: Regarding this paternalistic and Euro-centric/Western-centric attitude towards the region, which is often discussed in the critical academic literature: How can it be overcome? What counter-reactions and counter-narratives from within the region are challenging this attitude?

In terms of scholarship, there is a lot of vibrant scholarship coming from the region itself, and I think, in terms of academia, there are much more voices from the region. If you are a scholar on the region like me, you have to be working with scholars from the region and form a partnership. There is a dialogue, which, I think, has really developed and became more reflective in the last decade. Yet there are forces within the region, which seek to actually reinforce those stereotypes because they serve their own agenda and their own interests, be they political, economic or otherwise.

There are also those who challenge these stereotypes. If one looks closely, there is a significant amount of grassroots activism in the region. Strong environmental movements, for example, have emerged across Southeastern Europe, protesting against corruption and destruction of natural resources. This activism demonstrates that, when given a platform and possibilities to organize, citizens can be critical and self-organized, countering the stereotype of the region as backward and passive. There is considerable evidence that alternative voices exist within the region, though they are often silenced by governments and overlooked outside the region.

Image shows protesters marching in the street of Belgrade at night, carrying a banner with words “Rop Tinto, marš sa Drine, Get off the Drina”

In academia, there remains a problem with how the region is perceived—it is not fully integrated into the broader European debates. The region is still often thought of as separate, a kind of add-on to European Studies rather than an integral part. Mental maps of Europe are still shaped by a central Western perspective, imagining Europe as something that predominantly excludes Southeastern Europe. Changing these mental maps, which reflect deeper economic and political power dynamics, is a long-term process that will take time.

During a recent stay in Brussels, I was struck by how distant Southeastern Europe seems even now in the minds of those in the EU and Western Europe. Europe is still often conceived of as the old core, with perhaps a few closer countries like Poland and the Czech Republic included because of their greater economic and political weight, but that's about it. This mental shift, especially regarding Southeastern Europe, has not fully taken place even after 1989.

There is still a long way to go in understanding Southeastern Europe, not just as an afterthought or a place to apply theories and concepts from elsewhere, but as a region that contributes its own perspectives academically and politically, thereby enriching wider European debates.

A. E.: If we move on now to the specifics of your research and the main theme of looking at the narratives of victimhood and aggression during the Yugoslav Wars, can you give us an overview about how people across former Yugoslavia remember the role their republics played during the Yugoslav wars?

The wars themselves were fought out of a sense of being victims. Basically, everybody thought they were a victim of the other. I am simplifying when I say Croats or Serbs, of course; that is only a part of that population, but many Croats thought that they were victimized by Serbia and Yugoslavia, many Serbs thought that they were disadvantaged within Yugoslavia by the other nations, many Albanians thought they were victimized by Serbs in Yugoslavia. I am not evaluating such claims – of course, some of them are legitimate, some of them are greatly exaggerated. But these claims of the wars were a response to the narratives of victimhood. First of all, these were the narratives of victimhood, which said, “We are the victims within Yugoslavia and as a result, we need to abandon Yugoslavia because it makes us a victim, or we need to change Yugoslavia.”

This was really the starting point and then the answer was: “Well, we need a nation state, that's the best way to protect us,” but again, the nation state as a goal was always framed as a response to a threat. So, this idea of being threatened was essential in all nationalist narratives of the 1990s. When we're looking at it today, we have these very different ways of understanding the wars of the 1990s. They have different names. In Croatia the war is called the Homeland War. In the Republika Srpska – the entity of Bosnia and Herzegovina which has a Serb population majority – it is called the Fatherland War. In the rest of Bosnia, it would be called the aggression. In that sense, you can really see that the wars have different names. They're not seen as one war and they're kind of taken apart and reinterpreted through their respective national frameworks, which usually emphasize the just fight on one's own side.

There are two types of commemorations of the wars, but most of them are, in fact, commemorations of own victimhood. The only exception of any significance, I would say, is the Croatian celebration of Operation Storm in August – a successful military operation in 1995, in which the Croatian Army (re)took large parts of Serb-controlled Croatia.

Image shows the array of flags of Croatian military units during the celebration of the Victory and Homeland Thanksgiving Day and the Day of Croatian Defenders, commemorating operation Storm

Otherwise, all of the commemorations in Croatia, from Vukovar, the city which was destroyed by the Yugoslav Army, to Srebenica, to many of the commemorations in Serbia focus on being victims and put the victim at the center of the thinking about what happened in the 1990s. This makes it very clear that “the other side was the perpetrators and we were the victims.”

Again, I'm not trying to say that all of these commemorations are the same. In Srebrenica, we had what is generally considered to be a genocide, so it seems very understandable that this event is thought about as a place of Bosnian victims of Serbian genocide. But the nature of commemoration of victimhood is central to all war memories and thus, in a certain way, you find very little space for critical reflection about crimes committed by one's own side.

If mentioned at all, this happens typically only on the fringes of official discourses, with very little space given to it. In Croatia, some politicians have acknowledged past crimes, as has been the case in Serbia, but this has decreased over the last decade. We cannot view the 30 years since the Bosnian War as a single, homogenous period. In the decade following the wars, there was more of a soul searching, with fewer commemorations, and the narratives were in flux. During the last decade, however, there has been a consolidation of nationalist narratives, often mirroring those that were dominant during the war. This suggests a significant continuity in how the wars are discussed, both then and now.

Image shows women standing behind the memorial for Srebrenica victims

M. V.: You identify two antagonistic tracks of memory that are visible in Serbia today: one that denies the crimes and one that glorifies them. Could you please tell us more about them and about the Serbian case specifically? 

Yes, it's a paradox. Officially, Serbia has denied that a genocide took place in Srebrenica. When the U.N. General Assembly recently succeeded in declaring the Srebrenica massacre as a genocide and commemorating it accordingly, Serbia portrayed it as an attempt to label the entire nation as genocidal. This is a deliberate misinterpretation of the resolution, which at no point singled out Serbia or the Serb people as being a genocidal nation or collectively responsible for the genocide. It was a way to deflect from discussing the events by claiming, "We are portrayed as genocidal," thereby assuming victimhood in a situation where the resolution identifies others as victims.

The official narrative is more focused on denying, if not all war crimes, then at least genocide, or ignoring key parts. For example, the narrative about the 1999 Kosovo War focuses only on the NATO bombing. Public commemorations are limited to the NATO bombing and on the few episodes like the Battle of Košare, where the Yugoslav Army and the Kosovo Liberation Army clashed. However, there is no public memory of the expulsion of Albanians from Kosovo or the killing of Albanian civilians, which is completely ignored.

This results in a denial of some crimes and a complete ignoring of others as if they never happened. This is the prevailing official memory. However, there is also an unofficial memory that glorifies war crimes. For example, throughout Serbia and Republika Srpska, many murals have been painted in recent years portraying general Ratko Mladić, who was sentenced for war crimes and was a key architect of the Srebrenica genocide, as a hero. These murals are too sophisticated and well-preserved to be the work of spontaneous nationalist groups alone; they appear to have state backing. When people attempt to deface or paint over these murals, they are often protected by the police or by individuals who are then protected by the police, indicating indirect state support. Thus, we see an indirect glorification of individuals responsible for war crimes.

The state cannot glorify war criminals directly because that would put it in conflict with the West and other actors. So, there's a sort of rehabilitation through the back door. For instance, individuals sentenced for war crimes in The Hague return to Serbia and become TV commentators or officials in the ruling party, finding legitimate careers based on their wartime records. 

Perhaps the most horrific example is the chant often heard from football fans and ultras: “Knife, wire, Srebrenica” (in Serbian Нож, жица, Сребреница - Nož, žica, Srebrenica) which rhymes and evokes murder. This chant essentially takes ownership of Srebrenica, implying, "Yes, we killed in Srebrenica." While they would deny that civilians were killed, it glorifies murder quite openly. This isn't official discourse, but it happens in an environment where it is tolerated. No one condemns it or says it’s unacceptable. Thus, the state indirectly supports this narrative, allowing the celebration of war criminals to capture the public's attention while officially promoting denial. In a way, these narratives work hand in hand, even though they are contradictory: one denies war crimes, while the other celebrates the acts and perpetrators of those crimes.

Image shows a monument for victims of NATO bombings in 1999 in Niš, Serbia
Images shows a graffiti depicting head of Ratko Mladić, the contours of the depiction as well as his eyes, nose and mouth overpainted with red paint

A. E.: You already touched upon this but could you elaborate on dominant portrayals of individual aggressors in the former Yugoslav countries besides the collective image of villains and heroes. How are they presented and portrayed in this regard?

It is interesting to consider how much you can individualize the aggressor. Certain individuals are seen as representatives or threats. In the case of Serbia, wartime president of Croatia, Franjo Tuđman, is often portrayed as a fascist and a nationalist. While he certainly was a nationalist and a reactionary politician, he wasn't a fascist. Nevertheless, he is portrayed as an aggressor. Similarly, his leading general, Ante Gotovina, who was a key architect of the 1995 military operation, is frequently mentioned.

Among the Bosniaks, some politicians like Alija Izetbegović, the wartime president, are singled out by the Serbian side. However, they don’t make for compelling villains or aggressors. Similarly, among Albanians Serbian side portrays some political leaders like Hashim Thaçi [as aggressors]. 

Again, these figures do not make great villains for the narrative. In the past, leaders of key NATO countries during the intervention such as Bill Clinton, Tony Blair, and Gerhard Schröder, were often portrayed as aggressors. Ironically, the current Serbian government hired Tony Blair as an advisor, and Gerd Schröder, is now known for his pro-Russian stance. There is even a notable picture of Serbian President Vučić embracing Bill Clinton, making these figures hard to cast as villains continuously. This complicates the narrative, and when discussing who the aggressor is, the focus often shifts from individuals to collectives. It is not usually about specific people but rather about “the Albanians” or "the Croats," often referred to while using derogatory terms.

Panel discussion with former U.S. President Bill Clinton, Prime Minister of Serbia Aleksandar Vučić, and Mayor of Srebrenica Ćamil Duraković during the annual Clinton Global Initiative on 20 September, 2016 in New York City

In fact, this shift away from individual aggressors allows for a broader collapse of time. It is no longer about who was responsible in the 1990s as an individual; instead, it is about entire groups. This makes it easier to portray these collectives as ongoing threats because it’s not about a particular leader but about an entire nation being the enemy. This collective enemy narrative reinforces the idea of continuity of threats.

Of course, in other countries you see individuals like President Vučić being portrayed as a current threat and Milošević, who is often seen as the embodiment of the aggressor in most of the countries that were involved in the wars. Figures like Ratko Mladić are also commonly portrayed as key aggressors. While some individuals are still portrayed as aggressors, the most striking feature in discussions about the 1990s is the diminishing role of individuals in favor of focusing on collectives. This is partly because these individuals do not make effective villains anymore—they’re more complex. For example, Milošević, though often viewed as the mastermind behind many of the wars, wasn’t the most radical of those committing crimes.

As a result, and due to the usefulness of these narratives for today’s political context, it’s more about the collective than the individual when discussing who the aggressor is.

Image shows the red coloured graffiti of Ratko Mladić in Belgrade with a letter “Z” over it

M. V.: Is there any relation between this construction of enemy images and the political regime? To what extent do populists and authoritarian political actors and regimes in Southeastern Europe rely on othering in their construction of enemy images? Do they need a constant external enemy in order to exercise and keep political power? 

You could say that the very definition of populism involves a Manichean worldview, dividing the world into "us versus them." Populism always needs an enemy; without one, it cannot exist. In the region, we see cases where populist, nationalist and authoritarian leaders combine all these features.

Take someone like Milorad Dodik in Republika Srpska or Aleksandar Vučić, who both have an authoritarian streak. Croatia has its own populists, like the current President Zoran Milanović. Populist, authoritarian, and nationalist themes are common among many of the leading politicians in the region, and they often target the easiest "other"—the same enemies from the 1990s.

It’s logical for them to use these readily available images that easily evoke a sense of threat. They don’t need to explain much to their citizens why these "others" are a threat, because there is still a relatively fresh memory of conflict.

More importantly, many of these issues remain unresolved, which makes them particularly pertinent. In other contexts, leaders might focus on migrants, Roma or other communities as scapegoats, but in this region the unresolved tensions from the 1990s provide a convenient target for populist rhetoric.

In many of the countries, the wars of the 90s are not truly over. While the fighting has stopped, the political disputes remain unresolved. Perhaps the most progress has been made in Croatia, which has clear territorial borders and has joined the European Union and NATO. As a result, Croatia does not see itself as particularly threatened by Serbia because it is protected by multiple layers of international support. There is also no serious territorial dispute between the two countries.

In that sense, you could say that in Croatia, while anti-Serbian sentiments still exist, they are less central to everyday politics. These issues are simply not as relevant to most citizens anymore.

In Bosnia, where the state is incomplete, fragile and contested, it is easy to view the "other" as a threat to territorial integrity and political claims. This is also evident in the ongoing tensions between Serbia and Kosovo. Political elites exploit these issues, but it’s the very fact that the post-war arrangements are not seen as conclusive or final that makes the "other" from the 90s the logical "other" of today.

This doesn’t mean there are no other "others," so to speak. For example, migration has become an issue but most migrants in this region are passing through rather than settling, so the classic anti-migrant rhetoric seen in places like Hungary or Poland has not fully taken hold here yet.

A. E.: In addition to being an expert on Southeastern studies, you're also an expert on nationalism studies. In 2020, you published your book Debating Nationalism: The Global Spread of Nations. We would like to ask you a more general question about the relationship between nationalism and aggression. Would you argue that nationalism is inherently aggressive or aggression inherently nationalistic? 

It is a tricky question because nationalism is so ubiquitous in our world today. It is such a foundational principle of international relations and our state system that it’s hard to reduce a particular phenomenon, like aggression, to nationalism alone, since nationalism is everywhere and takes so many different forms.

From what I often see, aggression is frequently justified by claims of threat. This is not just applicable to the post-Yugoslav narrative but is evident in many contexts. Take Putin’s narrative regarding Ukraine, for example. It often involves denying the existence of the other nation while simultaneously claiming that they pose a threat to your own nation, ethnic kin or co-citizens. Very few nationalist movements justify aggression simply for territorial expansion without invoking some sort of perceived threat. National Socialism and its claim for so-called Lebensraum are a rare example where territory and subjugation were pursued without the pretext of being threatened. This is quite exceptional; most aggressive actions are justified by some perceived threat.

This narrative of threat is deeply linked to nationalism because it defines who is "in" and who is "out"—who is part of the collective that is threatened, and who are the others doing the threatening. In this way, nationalism structures the world into groups, distinguishing between those who belong and those who are the enemy.

Nationalism also helps explain why someone might be aggressive or perceived as aggressive. While human history has seen aggression long before the rise of nations and nationalism, the modern world, where states are largely based on the logic of nationalism, often uses nationalism as the primary justification for aggression. So, while aggression isn’t always tied to nationalism, in today’s world, nationalism is a key mechanism for justifying it.

Image shows an antifa graffiti in Mostar with a text “9th May Victory Day over Fascism” in Bosnian language in the upper part and a phrase “Nationalism kills”, repeated in Bosnian, Croatian and Serbian languages, below the antifa logo

M. V.: Our last question has to do with the potential for future memory wars within the European Union. Probably the most notorious example and longest one was the conflict between Greece and what is now the Republic of North Macedonia over the historical name Macedonia. In the last several years, Bulgaria and North Macedonia have been arguing and battling over history, but conflicts of interpretation also exist between the historical narratives of other countries in the region that you already mentioned. Do you see a potential for future memory wars in the process of EU enlargement? And do you think the EU has the adequate tools and know-how to manage such memory wars?

I think it's crucial to distinguish between memory wars—the contestation of memory and historical narratives—and actual wars. For example, the Greek-Macedonian or Bulgarian-Macedonian memory wars have never posed a real threat of war. This distinction is important. While these memory conflicts are used to mobilize nationalist politicians and narratives, which can have consequences beyond mere rhetoric, they are not the same as real armed conflict.

The EU accession process creates power asymmetries leading to situations when insisting on a particular historical narrative gives an EU member state much greater leverage. For instance, the Greek-Macedonian dispute would never have become such a significant political issue if it were not for North Macedonia’s efforts to join NATO and the European Union. Without that context, Greece’s position might have been largely ignored.

We see similar dynamics elsewhere. For example, the long-standing disagreement between the UK and Spain over Gibraltar, which Spain views as rightfully part of its territory, has persisted despite both countries being in the EU (until the UK left). Despite different historical narratives and even territorial conflicts, this disagreement didn’t block cooperation or create fundamentally insurmountable tensions.

In the case of Greece, Bulgaria and North Macedonia, the power asymmetry makes the situation much worse by giving one side significant leverage, which in turn leads to a sense of victimhood in the other. This sense of being pressured because of a historical dispute makes the memory conflict more entrenched and harder to resolve as the more powerful side uses its authority to pressure the other.

The EU, in this context, is ill-equipped to handle these issues because it often ends up fueling nationalist contestation rather than resolving it. The EU frequently insists that all bilateral disputes must be resolved before accession, but sometimes it might be better not to force a resolution. This isn't because these disputes should not be resolved, but because the expectation that the EU can or should resolve them before accession is naive. In fact, trying to resolve them in this way might make the contestation even harder. Sometimes it might be better to let certain conflicts be forgotten rather than forcing a resolution that could worsen the divide.

 

Images shows inscriptions on the wall in Belgrade, letters “EU” are crossed out and replaced with letters “SRB”

When looking at the dispute between Bulgaria and North Macedonia, it's important to recognize that there is no fundamental problem with two countries having different historical narratives—especially when those narratives are not about critical issues like, for example, Holocaust denial or responsibility for the Second World War. In such serious cases, Europe cannot tolerate divergent historical narratives. But when it comes to debates over the origins of the Macedonian and Bulgarian languages or the question of whose medieval hero belongs to whom, these differences are not structural challenges to cooperation and collaboration.

In these cases, historians can work through their differences and either agree or disagree, but the problem arises when these disputes become politicized. Once that happens, the conflicts can become destructive. Therefore, it is crucial to prevent these historical disputes from becoming politically salient.

Returning to the broader Yugoslav context, these issues only become significant when they are perceived as politically salient. For example, the territorial dispute between Croatia and Slovenia remains unresolved despite numerous attempts, but it has not hindered their cooperation within the European Union. This is because their larger historical narratives and interests converge rather than diverge, making the dispute a side issue rather than a central one.

Countries can coexist with differences as long as those differences don’t become central to everything and obstruct other aspects of their relationship. Instead of trying to resolve all historical narrative differences, it might be more effective to ensure that these issues do not gain political relevance that could disrupt broader cooperation. When people can build strong ties on other layers of their relationship, they might ultimately see these disputes—like whether a certain medieval king was Macedonian or Bulgarian—as trivial. From a scholarly perspective, debates over the ethnic or national origins of pre-national individuals are largely moot, so it is often better to let these issues fade rather than risk making them more politically charged by trying to resolve them immediately.

Interviewers: Amr Elashmawy and Dr Martin Valkov

July 2024

 

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