By: Gašper Blažič
You have probably heard of Gazimestan. The name resembles many Muslim countries ending in -stan, such as Afghanistan, Pakistan, Uzbekistan, etc. The name literally means “place of Muslim warriors”, referring to an ancient Oriental word meaning “power” (hence the name of the city Gaza!). In reality, it is a plain northwest of Priština, where the monument to the Battle of Kosovo Polje in 1389 is located. Despite the battle ending without a clear winner, as both leaders of the opposing sides, Serbian Prince Lazar, and Ottoman Sultan Murat, fell in it, the Battle of Kosovo Polje later became a mythologised focal point of Serbian national identity. This was taken to the extreme during its 600th anniversary by the “vožd” (leader) in 1989, organising a massive event on St. Vitus Day (June 28th) that included a speech hinting at the possibility of armed conflicts.
At that time, the newly appointed president of the presidency of the SFRY, Janez Drnovšek, also attended the mentioned event. Initially, he struggled to decide whether to attend the Gazimestan manifestation, given the highly tense situation in Kosovo, which elevated Slobodan Milošević to messianic heights. Eventually, he decided to go (although some diplomatic representatives of foreign countries declined the invitation), stating that he could use it as leverage against Serbia to cease repression in Kosovo. However, upon arrival at the scene – something he omitted in his memoirs – he was humiliatingly treated, as if he were a schoolboy. Nevertheless, the original sin had been committed in any case, with or without Drnovšek’s presence: the euphoria at Kosovo Polje had emboldened Serbs outside of Serbia, especially those in Croatia. They began to raise their heads in rebellion, even during the time when Croatia was still led by the communist nomenclature, and it was uncertain whether the first multiparty elections would even take place.
Perhaps someone will remark about this, saying that it is normal; every nation needs its “myth” that confirms national identity. In the case of the Slovenian state, it is not quite the same, as the historical events that led to its formation are still relatively fresh, and there is actually very little mythology in them, perhaps only that of the “thousand-year dreams” from the time of Carantania onwards. We often refer to this ancient state of our ancestors when proving our historical statehood. Ultimately, the enthronement of Carantania princes was even considered a kind of European proto-democracy – the prince did not come from a hereditary dynasty; instead, farmers appointed him. Even later, when the region had become the Duchy of Carinthia, and feudalism was in place, Carinthian dukes were enthroned according to ancient tradition and in the Slovenian language. Well, it is true that at that time, the circle of voters was far from as broad as in the Carantania era. I mention this part of our ancient history more casually, as evidence that some of this heritage passed into Slovenian prehistory. The Slovenian nation, as we know it today, can only be discussed from the 19th century onwards when national consciousness prevailed over regional identity (Carniolans, Styrians, etc., who could speak Slovenian or German). It was also during this time that the concept of a “unified Slovenia” emerged, and the national question was mainly addressed within the Habsburg Empire, until its end in 1918, of course.
In passing, I mention some of this mythology, or rather mythomania, which has become the foundation for the ideological beliefs of a relatively vocal minority. This minority envisions Slovenia’s future as a completely independent state, disconnected from all international connections (self-sufficient), where its inhabitants will return to pre-Christian traditions and live out their true identity. Aligning such views with individuals who similarly discover their Old Germanic identity within themselves might be somewhat challenging, even though they share a common alt-right sovereign agenda. Incidentally, this agenda strongly leans towards anti-Jewish and anti-Christian sentiments. This resembles a pattern that somewhat recalls the mythomanic affirmation of the Serbs during the dissolution of Yugoslavia.
It is said that mythomania flourishes when reason is abandoned. We witnessed this, for example, about two years ago when some lost their sanity due to the pandemic and resorted to various conspiracy theories. However, mythomania is most evident when it comes to protecting the “holy grail” – in our case, the successors of the communist agenda. Where there is actually no desire for any ideological formation, as Marxism interests very few. Just a few decades ago, for instance, Ivan Maček-Matija in his Belgrade years preferred going hunting with General Milan Žeželj (commander of Tito’s personal guard) than attending fruitless meetings overflowing with ideological clichés. The reflex of those who are, as expressed by their eminent representative Marcel Štefančič, “f***ing more” with RTV Slovenia reveals what has truly remained of the former regime elite. Mostly, it is a mentality that believes in defending “ours” against “theirs”, protecting tribal interests even at the expense of the country’s development because, on the other side, there is always an enemy. Not a political opponent, but an enemy.
That is why modern Gazimestans are constructed in people’s minds today. Whether it is once a year in Dražgoše, where this elite, comprised of “old regime” individuals, their former dissenters, and younger generations opportunistically following this trend, conveys the message that “we will not give up the country”. Because it is “ours”, “we made it”, “we liberated it”, and “you are just guests here”. In other words, this elite conglomerate, asserting that the state is exclusively in its possession, views all others as “foreigners” and treats them in a manner acknowledged as xenophobic. So, if you want to stay here, you will obey what we say; otherwise, go back to where you came from. And thus, the most zealous shouters also drive away to Argentina those who may have never been there, and perhaps have not even heard of it.
From this, it becomes clear why there is so much mythomania associated with World War II. The story of Dražgoše (or “Liegoše”, as some say, although the village itself is not at all guilty of this!) might be a special case because they could not involve any typical enemies of the revolution – neither village guards nor Home Guard members. Instead, the villagers themselves were portrayed as class enemies, although propaganda tried to conceal this. As I wrote months ago in one of my columns (“What does Hamas have to do with Dražgoše”), is the same pattern repeating in Gaza as in Dražgoše: the civilian population becomes a living shield, a victim that Hamas presents to Israel to justify its terrorism. In January 1942, the residents of Dražgoše played the role of this victim, sacrificed by partisan forces on the altar of the revolution. Now, from the perspective of this sacrificial victim, they lecture the Slovenian public on what the Dražgoše battle – which, in reality, did not happen – meant for the liberation of Europe, even daring to compare it to the Allied invasion of Normandy, which decisively sealed the fate of the Third Reich. In this context, ominous disqualifications resonate from the Dražgoše stage, amid the silent suffering of the current inhabitants. Those who are “not ours” are targeted. This serves as a signal to the frightened population to avoid risking majority support for the “non-ours” in elections if they wish to avoid inconvenience.
This merely proves that the Stalinist revolution in Slovenia, which cannot hide its kinship with the “vožd’s” Vidovdan manifestation in Pristina in 1989, is, unfortunately, a never-ending story.
*Liegoše – A play on word between lie and a village Dražgoše