(Kingston, Ontario, Canada)
In reviewing my photographs of the past year, I realized that there was still at least one untold story from my visit to Bosnia & Herzegovina. Here is a “previously unpublished” blog entry dating back to April of 2014.
The city of Mostar suffered terribly during the 1990s. I’ve shared some stories and pictures about the destroyed bridge and some of the damage that was done to the people and buildings. But I didn’t say anything about one of the monuments…
Yugoslavia was a communist country but it wasn’t really behind the Iron Curtain. Marshal Tito followed a relatively independent course and, as a result, Yugoslavia was the most accessible of the communist states in Eastern Europe. However, as in most of the communist countries, there were many monuments built in Yugoslavia to commemorate the struggle against fascism during World War II.
Last year, I published a photograph (see above) of a Yugoslavian era anti-fascist monument in Trebinje. This monument is well maintained and is right in the middle of Trebinje’s main downtown park, suggesting that it is considered to be very important. However, another (much, much larger) Yugoslavian era anti-fascist monument is located in Mostar. Unlike Trebinje’s monument, however, the one in Mostar is crumbling, waterlogged, and completely overgrown with weeds. There are no signs showing the way to Mostar’s monument and some maps don’t even include it…despite it being close to downtown and sprawling over the equivalent of several city blocks. How could this happen, when the two cities are in the same country and barely 100 km apart?
The answer is complicated and obscured by past conflicts. In a nutshell, however, one ethnic group is seen as having been sympathetic to the communist cause…while another is seen as having been sympathetic to the fascist cause. As a result, the interest in maintaining anti-fascist monuments varies according to which ethnic group dominates in a particular place. The interest in developing “Yugoslavian Civil War” tourism varies in a similar way, as one ethnic group is not as keen on having its role being placed under scrutiny. You can imagine how complicated this gets, as there are actually three ethnic groups in Bosnia & Herzegovina.
I was tempted to use quotation marks with put the word “ethnic” in the above paragraph: you may remember from my earlier posts that these “ethnic” groups historically were essentially the same in appearance and language: it was mainly religion that divided them.
Anyway, I spent a fair bit of time exploring and climbing on the Mostar monument. It is huge and built in an over-the-top style that is typical of communist-era monuments. I was the only person there: I saw somebody walking a mean-looking dog there when I first passed by the entrance, but he was gone by the time I visited the park. It felt really creepy, as if nobody was really welcome at the monument. I kept looking around to see if somebody was going to tell me to leave…or even to escort me away from the monument. That never happened but I would not have been surprised if it did.
This massive monument would have been a major attraction in other Eastern European countries, as they certainly don’t make monuments like that anymore. However, the rawness of Bosnia & Herzegovina’s recent past means that it will probably continue to crumble for quite some time. In the meantime, if you want to see the monument in Mostar, try not to rely too heavily on locally-produced maps: it is possible that something will be missing. You may also want to visit with a group and during daylight hours, as I didn’t feel completely safe visiting the site and I think there is only one way to get in and out.