Anthropology of East Europe Review

Vol. 13, No. 1 Spring, 1995

Special Issue: Refugee Women of the Balkans

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NOTES FROM THE FIELD: REPUBLIC OF MACEDONIA MARCH, 1995

Tony Velovski
Brown University

Rare is the modern account of Macedonia that fails to mention some aspect of the "Macedonian Question." Addressing it is a nearly impossible task, for the question itself is different each time it is asked. First, how is "Macedonia" defined? Where is it located on the globe? Is it a historical region subsumed by three modern states? Is it a segment of only one state? Is it a state in and of itself? Depending on whom you ask it can be any one of these places, or it can be all of them...and then some. Who are the Macedonians? Are they those Ancients over whose globally celebrated achievements modern-day republics compete to co-opt and proclaim their very own? Or, are they those Ancients' descendants, who after centuries upon centuries of political upheaval, population migrations and integration, and dominion under one empire, kingdom or regime after another are, today, citizens of different states, subject to modern forms of nationalism and identity politics? Historians, political scientists, anthropologists and sociologists (just to name a few) grapple with these issues in their attempt to put together at least a few pieces of the puzzle.

But, aside from the geo-historical conundrum, or, rather, more accurately, as a product of it, today, we have a new country, the 181st member-state of the United Nations, called the Republic of Macedonia, whose citizens must not only confront the old questions, but deal with the new, those difficult outcroppings of the state-building process. The Macedonia to which I refer is the former Yugoslav republic, which, surrounded by the stub SFR Yugoslavia to the north, Albania to the west, Greece to the south, and Bulgaria to the east, is located in the heart of the Balkan peninsula and is faced not only with the exigencies of the volatile, transformational political dramas that are being played-out at each one of its borders, but also its own monumental internal dilemmas. It is here that I have chosen to conduct my fieldwork, to examine the particulars of what I call the "Macedonian Experiment," the international attempt to salvage and build a successful, peaceful, democratic, multicultural society on a peninsula whose very name, Balkan, has become synonymous with quite the opposite. Specifically, I concentrate on tracing the development of Macedonia's new pluralism, that which attempts to thwart extreme ethno-nationalism. And, within this multicultural context, I focus on how ethnic Macedonians (the Slavic majority) think of themselves as Macedonian within the context of what seems like total institutional flux. In a time when the country, itself, is negotiating its legitimate international place, re-evaluating and transforming itself completely, its citizens, too, are afforded the rare occasion to re-evaluate and possibly transform themselves. What I am most interested in elucidating are some aspects of the complicated process of this type of "identity work." In this note, however, my purpose is not so much to concentrate on the particulars of my specific project, but to discuss more generally some of the social currents that frame and inform my study. Thus, my intention being mostly an effort to describe the current state of affairs in the Republic of Macedonia [I will also use the term, Macedonia, to refer to the same throughout], I make no claims at providing anything near an exhaustive, thoroughly analyzed account of some of the major life themes in this society. Instead, I hope to offer a glimpse into their world and to explain some of the intentions of this anthropologist among them.

When I first arrived in Macedonia nearly five months ago, I quickly understood the enormity of the "transformation." The term, itself, is on everyone's lips. Inevitably, in every conversation I have with Macedonians, someone talks about these changes, focusing on one or a number of issues that most significantly affect their lives. The most hard-hitting problem is undoubtedly the current economic situation. Macedonia is slowly changing from a socialist former Yugoslav state to a democratic, independent one which has thrown itself into the cutthroat world of free-market, capitalist economies. Privatization is in full swing, disrupting what many call "the comfortable, happy years" when most people were perceived to be equal, and creating a newly polarized society, replete with both newly rich urban elite and recently displaced homeless citizens. As part of my project, I'm trying to better understand how this relatively new sense of class consciousness figures into nationalist/pluralist discourse and the politics of identity.

Arguably the most strapped citizens are the "zemjodelci" or the villagers who are tied to the land, the individual farmers. Gone is the time when the annual tobacco crop could be bought off by the tobacco firms at a price that would ensure survival through the winter. Today, the tobacco firms, themselves, are having a hard time obtaining the necessary credits, at anything resembling reasonable interest rates, from the banks to buy the tobacco from the farmers. Instead, the farmers are asked to give their tobacco yield to the firms in return for IOU's, payable as the cash becomes available. Indeed, as more and more state-run industries are privatized, more and more people lose their jobs. And, oftentimes, even those who have jobs don't get paid for months at a time.

The alternative is participating in the thriving "black market," where over half of the country's retail sales take place (a fact reported in a March 6th front-page article in one of Macedonia's daily newspapers, "Nova Makedonija"), where one can buy anything from batteries, wristwatches and razors to a variety of "name-brand" blue jeans, audio cassettes, electronic equipment, carpets and furniture. The list goes on and on. Indeed, one can find just about anything outside at the "pazar." Because most laws are being rethought and revised, most people seem to think that, nowadays, "anything goes" in Macedonia. One rather prosperous black-marketeer who has made a small fortune in pirating videocassettes told me that he has to "do it while [he] can," fearing the end of what is for him an economic boon. In fact, he added that he would love to come to America "only for a vacation" because, in order to live there, he "would have to really work to make a living."

The "transformation" has also further polarized the generations. Young university students, although disturbed by the sad state of the country's economy today (the unemployment rate officially hovers somewhere over 40%), tend to remain cautiously optimistic that the situation will improve, and that they will soon have jobs in a healing, stabilizing economy. They pin the blame on their parents' generation, on the failure of the socialist system. One young man I know often tells me to "witness the socialist mentality" when his father questions the wisdom of some aspects of the transformation. Those that are even younger tend to be completely absorbed in the "Western invasion." To them, the West, especially the United States, is a fantasy world, and they can't seem to get enough of it. Virtually every film shown on television and in the cinemas is American. Teenagers and young adults watch "Beverly Hills 90210" religiously, drink Coca-Cola, smoke Marlboro cigarettes (those that come without the health warnings on their labels), wear Levi's, and gather in nightclubs that play mostly Western music. One would be hard-pressed to argue against the ubiquitous presence of cultural imperialism in Macedonia, especially when confronted with the recent onslaught of fashion-conscious women who currently sport the rather severe black hairstyle that actress Uma Thurman wore in the film, "Pulp Fiction."

When I walk along Skopje's streets, I am still amazed at the physically perceptible contrasts that mark "the transformation." First, I notice the large gray block that is the "socialist" department store, one of the few remaining of a dying breed, where the employees are easily distinguishable from the patrons by their bright blue smocks and expressionless faces, where the semi-dismembered mannequins, wigs askew, are sloppily dressed with outdated fashions, and where the shelves are stocked sparingly and willy-nilly. Then, a few store fronts down the boulevard, I come across a glittering boutique where the "sparseness" of its displayed stock is intentional, a merchandising innovation that sells not only haute couture but the attitude that comes along with it. Never mind the pink Cadillac with bull horns that takes up half of the store.

Nevertheless, slowly but surely, Macedonia is making it through the transition period. One can't help but think that the situation would already be much improved if relations with neighboring Greece were normalized. For over a year now, Greece has maintained its embargo on Macedonia, effectively blocking Macedonia's access to the south and the Aegean Sea. This act only further isolated Macedonia on the Balkan peninsula, considering, of course, that Macedonia's northern border is also effectively closed as a result of the international embargo on Serbia (or the current SFR Yugoslavia, which includes Montenegro and the former autonomous provinces of Kosovo and Vojvodina). Greek officials, claiming that "Macedonia is Greece," imposed the embargo after the Macedonians refused to change their name and the sun/star symbol on their flag. Apparently, the name and symbols associated with the ancient Macedonians belong solely to the Greeks, who only experienced a resurgence in their version of Macedonian (Hellenistic) nationalism in response to the former Yugoslav republic's declaration of independence. Indeed, so potent was the newly intensified Greek propaganda against the newly independent state that its massive political lobbies around the world worked to influence politicians in such countries as the United States, Australia, and France not to officially recognize it under the name, "Republic of Macedonia." Instead, in an effort to avoid further destabilization in the Balkans, the member states of the United Nations admitted the country into their ranks under the temporary name of the "Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia," and strongly suggested that the two countries resolve their "dispute" as soon as possible. Little progress has been made. As a member-state of the European Union, Greece is infamous for casting the lone veto for any measure brought up in regard to the Republic of Macedonia, including its bid for membership in the Council for Security and Cooperation in Europe. The Macedonians with whom I have spoken express the strong desire that "things return to the way they were between [Greece and Macedonia]," and that they cannot understand why some of the most powerful countries in the world are so "afraid" of upsetting Greece even though this country's newspapers' editorial columns are full of criticisms of Greece's seemingly ridiculous position. The dispute with Greece further threatens Macedonia's budding pluralist policies by bringing ethnicity to the fore, intensifying nationalist feelings and alienating some members of Macedonia's ethnic minority communities.

I believe that this prolonged situation in which Macedonia's identity as a state is being directly challenged has unique implications for the "identity work" of its citizens. Indeed, as I mentioned above, in a time where everything is being called into question at the state level, it is likely that individuals will rethink their positions within the state. And this, of course, is not restricted to only the ethnic Macedonians within Macedonia, but also the country's minority populations. This is most certainly the case with Macedonia's sizable Albanian minority, which includes a large number of recent refugees from Kosovo. Making up nearly 25% of the population, the Albanian minority, located mostly in the western portion of Macedonia, has recently become more unified, vocal and instrumental within the internal affairs of the country. Representatives of the Albanian political parties in the parliament work to ensure that Albanians in Macedonia will not be treated like "second-class citizens." Indeed, in this restructuring period, these same Albanian politicians insist that they are not simply a minority group, but rather a "narod" (or "nation") and must be treated as such, with the adoption of Albanian as a second official language and with the opening of a university where courses would all be taught in Albanian. Ethnic Macedonians, on the other hand, argue that these recent events are a direct result of the efforts of radical Albanian nationalists transplanted from Kosovo, whose aim is to disrupt and polarize the fledgling republic towards eventual secessionist ends whereby the radicals' vision of a "Greater Albania" would be realized. One Macedonian man told me that "this country already has an official language, the language of the majority, just like most other countries...Would the Germans recognize and publicly fund a Turkish-language university in their country?" The Albanian organizers of the initiative for the university in Tetovo (a city in northwest Macedonia which is predominantly inhabited by members of the Albanian minority), in willful violation of the laws and the Constitution of the Republic most recently attempted to open the university on February 17, 1995. When police tried to prevent the start of classes at the "illegal" university, a riot ensued in which one person was killed and nearly thirty were injured. This event became hugely symbolic of the mounting inter-ethnic tensions within Macedonia. Macedonia's government responded to the situation by promoting problem-solving measures that include stipulations for increased enrollments of students and more hiring of professors of Albanian descent within the current university system, emphasizing the necessity of integration. Whereas Macedonian leaders advocate equality and integration, their Albanian counterparts demand equality and segregation, exactly the type of ethno-nationalism that the new government wants most fundamentally to avoid. Lately, these disconcerting events have been consuming most everyone's thoughts. During a recent ride in a taxi-cab the other night, the driver told me that he "wouldn't care if an Albanian became president of this country. Good. More power to him, as long as he works within the framework of the constitution and protects the integrity of the country." Then, wanting me to fully understand his position by seeking my concurrence on the matter, he asked, "After all, if the President of the United States were, for example, of French or Spanish descent, would he run the country speaking English or one of those other languages that the majority of Americans don't understand?"

Clearly, the Republic of Macedonia's problems are many and varied. Together, they pose a daunting task for the current and future governments. But, despite the gravity of the situations I described, the citizens of Macedonia want to avoid any further escalation of tensions. If nothing else, they want to prove to the world that there can be peace in the Balkans, that lessons from the war in Bosnia have been learned. Nevertheless, as the Macedonian filmmaker Milcho Manchevski's Academy-award nominated film, "Before the Rain," warns, the potent blend of ethnicity, nationalism and politics that has poisoned the neighboring countries to the north may still seep through the borders, infecting the people of Macedonia and destroying them if they don't remain conscious and actively pursue a vigorous campaign of prevention.


Posted:12/24/96

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