WILL IT EVER GET BETTER IN SERBIA?

On June 27, 2024, I left Prishtina for Belgrade to participate in this year’s edition of the Mirëdita, Dobar Dan! festival, organized by Integra in Kosovo and the Youth Initiative for Human Rights (YIHR) of Civic Initiatives in Serbia. The festival, now in its tenth edition, serves as a platform for exchange and cooperation between artists, intellectuals and activists from Serbia and Kosovo. It was supposed to open with the play “Father and Father” by Jeton Neziraj, directed by Kushtrim Koliqi. The play follows the life of a family defined by the absence of the father, who, like 1,597 others, is still missing after disappearing during the 1998-1999 war in Kosovo. However, the play was not performed. This edition of the festival did not open. A few hours before it was set to begin, the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Serbia banned it.

This ban was the epilogue of a several-week campaign against the festival. Leading this campaign were, among others, Serbian Minister of Culture Nikola Selaković, Deputy Prime Minister Aleksandar Vulin and Minister of the Internal Affairs Ivica Dačić, who ultimately sealed the ban. On the day of the festival, a bus carrying participants from Kosovo was stopped when entering Belgrade and escorted back to the Kosovo border by the police.

For a long time, successive Serbian governments, especially the one led by Aleksandar Vučić, have made it clear that we are not welcome in Belgrade. But this time, they explicitly banned us. The way it all happened reminded me of my other trips to Belgrade, perhaps because this trip was inseparable from previous ones. Each journey had slowly led to this point.

Belgrade has been building barriers

I first went to Belgrade in 2014 as a participant in a program focused on dealing with the past. Since then, over the past ten years, I have visited Belgrade at least twice a year, mainly for work.

I participated in the Mirëdita, Dobar dan! festival for the first time in May 2022, during its ninth edition in Belgrade. At the festival, we promoted the book I had edited, titled “Hije të shtrembëruara” — Distorted Shadows — published by Integra. The book summarizes accounts of Albanian political prisoners from Kosovo who survived brutal torture in the infamous Goli Otok prison in Croatia during the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.

At the opening of that edition we were evacuated from the courtyard of the Center for Cultural Decontamination (CZKD) due to a bomb threat. CZKD was the home of the courageous and inspiring playwright Borka Pavićević, who stood against the nationalism of her country for her entire life. We went from the suspected bomb site out onto the street where we were met by a crowd of men shouting and holding up hateful nationalist slogans and symbols directed towards Albanians.

In June of the same year, I went to Belgrade for a performance of the play “The Handke Project” by Jeton Neziraj, directed by Blerta Neziraj. The play problematizes the decision to award the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2019 to Austrian writer Peter Handke. A little more than ten years before receiving the prize, Handle gave a eulogy at the funeral of Slobodan Milošević, the man who ordered the killing of thousands of people in Kosovo, Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia. In his work, Handke also relativized and denied the crimes of the Serbian state in the Yugoslav wars.

IN LESS THAN TWO MONTHS, I WITNESSED A NORMALIZATION OF THINGS THAT SHOULD NEVER BE CONSIDERED NORMAL.

We refused to present “The Handke Project” and other shows in the alternative spaces that welcomed us, such as CZKD. Instead, we insisted on the play being performed in a public institution, so that it could be seen by a larger audience and accomplish its goal of confronting people, especially those who might disagree with its content. The play was clearly anti-genocide and challenged all the Peter Handkes of today. We knew it wasn’t going to be just another show in Belgrade. In 2022, “The Handke Project” was staged at the BITEF public theater. But it was performed under police supervision around the theater building and with an icy atmosphere from the audience, despite the sweltering summer heat.

In less than two months, I witnessed a normalization of things that should never be considered normal. Looking back from today’s perspective, these two visits to Belgrade were clear signs that the Serbian government, both secretly and somewhat covertly, was normalizing the ban. It was sharpening its teeth.

Ultimately, the government banned it

Ironically, the Serbian government, along with the men who usually gather their nationalistic banners and raise their voices to sing hateful songs, always creates a lot of commotion when it comes to cultural exchanges. Thus, this government proves that there is still a need to support culture and art and to ensure its sustainability, especially for an independent cultural scene that is struggling in Serbia. However, the government fears the power of culture and art to unite people, bring them closer together and keep them curious to find and spread the truth. The truth, for the Serbian government, means facing itself and its own faults.

THIS YEAR, ORDINARY MEN, ALONG WITH POLITICAL LEADERS, AMBUSHED THE MIRËDITA, DOBAR DAN! FESTIVAL AGAIN AND EVENTUALLY BANNED IT.

This year, ordinary men, along with political leaders, ambushed the Mirëdita, Dobar Dan! festival again and eventually banned it. The discussion I was invited to participate in, called “Normalization of Ban or Ban of Normalization: Hindering Cultural Exchange,” was also banned. In this discussion, I would have talked about the ways we had found to navigate the hateful and malicious climate installed by the Serbian government. This is the climate that we and our colleagues from Serbia had faced in every attempt at normal cultural exchange. I would have shown how we had proved ourselves resilient and managed to navigate this hostile environment, somehow managing to succeed. I would have talked to some media outlets, academics and a handful of artists in Serbia. Some of them comply with the government and some obey out of fear of this tyranny, which is the same, anyway.

But, maybe it’s better that I didn’t speak and the festival was banned by government decision. Finally, the country’s leaders have to handle the hot potato themselves. They are no longer satisfied with making contradictory statements. Those statements were enough to legitimize the fascist calls on the street and to claim that it made efforts to protect history, but not enough to stop the festival. Their attitude has always been: pull it, but don’t tear it.

Maybe, it’s for the better because I fear that if this hadn’t happened, we would have continued navigating the status quo for a long time. We would have kept on struggling to find difficult paths in an exclusionary environment where bomb threats are normalized and public insults from figures from both Kosovo and Serbia have made normal communication and cooperation a personal and political challenge. Perhaps, by being neither completely forbidden nor completely permitted, we would maintain the illusion that we have accomplished something.

FOR THIS TO HAPPEN, THE SERBIAN STATE MUST FIRST LET GO OF KOSOVO.

Perhaps this decision will be an eye-opener and will mobilize Serbian society against an inherited state structure that becomes more fearful each year, clarifying its position and proving through actions that it remains steadfast in its tyrannical stance. While the people of Kosovo need time to heal from a devastating war, the Serbian state needs to heal from its own government to properly address the past. For this to happen, the Serbian state must first let go of Kosovo.

FESTIVALS LIKE MIRËDITA, DOBAR DAN! DO NOT GO TO BELGRADE TO DENY THE PAST OR TO PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED.

Maybe this is how healing will begin. It cannot happen in isolation. Each country needs to communicate honestly and accept their true positions, even if it is uncomfortable.

Mirëdita, Dobar dan! is an example of this healing effort. Festivals like this do not go to Belgrade to deny the past or to pretend it never happened. On the contrary, they create spaces for people to deal with the past, to sift through it, as this is the only path to a less noisy and violent future for this troubled region.

THE SERBIAN GOVERNMENT IS SEEING ITS SELF-MADE MYTH SLIP AWAY BECAUSE PEOPLE INEVITABLY GRAVITATE TOWARD THE TRUTH, EVEN IF THEY DO SO LATE.

If the leaders of the Serbian state are proud of their nation’s past, then why do these platforms threaten them? Herein lies their fear. When people talk, the truth emerges and finds its place. This political class has made it clear that its only consistent mission is to maintain the fiction it has created for itself. Isolating society from the truth is what keeps this fiction alive. Tyrannical systems fear exposing people to the truth or multiple truths because that alone can destabilize their position. When their position is shaken, tyrannical systems become unstable and start micromanaging people’s movements, listening to what they say, controlling who enters the borders and where people sleep. The system becomes increasingly paranoid.

The cancellation of this edition of Mirëdita, Dobar dan! is the clearest manifestation of this paranoia. It indicates the weakening of the propaganda apparatus. The Serbian government is seeing its self-made myth slip away because people inevitably gravitate toward the truth, even if they do so late.

The Serbian government defends itself

This myth is perpetuated both openly and covertly, hidden behind men’s groups or the often state-controlled media. The government does this by watching and even enabling the painting of Belgrade with the face of war criminal and perpetrator of the Srebrenica genocide, Ratko Mladić, arresting anyone who tries to challenge the city’s genocidal appearance. It canceled EuroPride in 2022, turning a blind eye to attacks against civil society organizations that do not align with it. It inflates supporter numbers and wins elections under serious suspicions of malpractice.

THE SERBIAN POLITICAL CLASS URGENTLY NEEDS TO IMPROVE — IF IT TRULY LOVES ITS PEOPLE.

In these circumstances, the Serbian political class urgently needs to improve — if it truly loves its people. Therefore, it must first begin to love its own people and then to finally open up to others: those in Kosovo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia and the entire region — those who it once tried to destroy. Serbia must understand that it has not exterminated these peoples, that they have survived, that they are there. And in their existence, they will speak, remember and tell their story.

Initiatives like Mirëdita, Dobar dan! enable people to have these conversations, cultivate memories, and tell their own stories. They recognize that societies in the region are interconnected, and whether they like it or not, they influence each other. Unfortunately, the nationalism nurtured by the Serbian state threatens Kosovo and other states in the region, which is a serious concern.

The generations that lived through the wars in Kosovo, Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia will do everything possible to avoid such conflicts again. But what about the generations born after the wars? How can we convince them that violent resistance to normal communication and cooperation is not the right path?

After the festival was canceled in Belgrade, we were effectively deported following a strict security protocol. By expelling us from Serbia in this manner, they claimed to be respecting the “will of the people” and “protecting” us from having “violated” that will.

But who exactly are the people in Serbia? Who does the Serbian government recognize as its people? Serbia’s people include individuals such as Sofija Todorović from YIHR in Serbia, who received a severed pig’s head a day after the festival was banned, as if warning her that she is being watched. They include people like Aida Corović, who threw eggs at a mural of Mladić in Belgrade. They also include Andrej Nosov and Biljana Srbljanović from Heartefact and Sasa Ilić from the Polip festival. These activists, artists, friends and colleagues apologized on behalf of their country for this incident.

The road trip I took with a police escort was very different from the one I took when traveling from Prishtina to Belgrade. On that journey, I met people whom Serbia tries to silence — like the policeman in Prokuplje, who wished me a good trip and the gas station attendant who spoke to me in Albanian, saying, “Have a good day, thank you!” I will return to Belgrade for all these people, united with me in the mission for truth. I will return because Serbia also has this side, which, despite being weakened and tired from state violence, exists and will triumph.

On the way to Prishtina, with sirens and armored vehicles escorting a group of artists and activists from Kosovo, the Serbian government did not protect its people. It protected itself from itself.

Author: Aurela Kadriu

Feature image: Dion Krasniqi with photos from Integra.

This article was originally produced for and published by Kosovo 2.0. It has been re-published here with permission.

Mass cases of image-based sexual abuse highlighted the exploitation, intimidation and humiliation of women and girls across the region. Abusers have found a digital safe space to exploit and intimidate women in the comfort of their anonymity and lack of accountability.

The feminist organisation OsnaŽene (Empowered Women), based in Serbia, published an article investigating Telegram groups where photos of girls and women are shared and sexualised. Members of the organisation infiltrated groups where explicit images of women and girls were shared without their consent, and requests were made for pictures of minors, mothers, sisters and aunts of the group members. One of the largest groups had nearly 70,000 members and others had tens of thousands of members. Although Telegram allows anonymity, judging by their usernames, most of these groups were run by a small number of profiles who profited from the exploitation and sexual abuse of women and girls.

Members of OsnaŽene explained how they operate: “With or without financial compensation, they [group administrators] receive photos and videos of mostly underage girls (with the code: -18) who send the material in confidence, then collect as many photos and videos as possible and sell them for a minimum price of 50 euros. When they have made enough money from these victims, they share the material publicly because they cannot profit any more from it as the photos/videos have already circulated enough”.

Other worrying cases mentioned in the article show that men in these groups make requests to share, sexualise and ‘rate’ photos of their mothers, sisters and aunts with other members, as well as countless requests for child pornography.

This is not a new phenomenon in Serbia or the region, there have been many cases reported in the media over the past seven years. Among the most notable cases in Serbia were investigative stories by BIRN journalists Anđela Milivojević and Hristina Cvetičanin Knežević, published in 2021 and 2023, in which dozens of victims disclosed their personal stories, often saying that they shared these photos in confidence with their partners, or that they were secretly filmed by their partners, who later shared them on Telegram and similar platforms, even on pornographic websites. Milivojević’s recent story revealed cases of AI-generated images of “naked” women found on Telegram. The software used to create these images allows anyone to use artificial intelligence to remove clothing from a photo. Users could ask this software to “strip naked” women they know or found on social media, simply by providing a photo of them.

These cases are often referred to as ‘revenge porn’, but experts in the field suggest that this is not the best term to use, as most of this content was not created for pornographic purposes, at least not for widespread distribution. Even if these photos and videos were consensually shared with one person, that does not mean they were shared consensually on social media platforms or in mass online communities.

The problem with the ‘revenge’ part of the term is that although it implies the harm that is intended by sharing this content, it can also implicate that the victim has done something wrong to cause or ‘deserve’ such revenge, reinforcing the victim-blaming narratives that are often present when discussing sexual violence. Therefore, this term can be harmful to victims, as well as simplify diverse experiences of image-based sexual abuse.

The term image-based sexual abuse is considered a more appropriate alternative as it describes more accurately the experiences of victims and the nature of this type of violence, which is a form of digital sexual and gender-based violence. Defined as such, it refers to acts of non-consensual sharing of sexually explicit images and videos.

Many media outlets in Serbia reported on these cases and journalists, together with activists for women’s rights, truly put this important topic on the agenda, as the institutions remain silent. More than a month has passed since OsnaŽene published its findings and relevant authorities have still not taken significant steps to hold perpetrators accountable or to address and prevent this problem.

When it comes to the legal framework in Serbia, this type of abuse is not defined as a specific criminal offence.  For the police or prosecutors to get involved, the case needs to have elements of other criminal offences defined under different laws, such as extortion, harassment, stalking or child pornography. This leaves many victims without access to justice and institutional protection. The feminist organisation Autonomous Women’s Centre has been advocating since 2022 for revenge pornography to be recognised as a criminal offence in the Penal Code, but, the government has so far failed to respond to such requests.

“Given that institutions are not interested in addressing the issue of sharing intimate photos/videos of girls and women, we certainly have other ways to fight, in addition to, of course, pressuring institutions to do their job,” says Staša Ivković, a member of OsnaŽene and author of the article on Telegram groups in Serbia targeting women and girls, for Reporting Diversity Network.

“Public campaigns and raising awareness about the issue of revenge pornography can create pressure on institutions to react. Unfortunately, we live in a country where institutional response sometimes only happens under public pressure. Of course, the support of friends, family, and the community can provide the necessary emotional support to victims.” Ivković continues.Apart from the help of their community, many women facing this kind of violence lack the necessary psychological and legal support. Ivković adds that since the publication of their research, OsnaŽene has received many requests for help from women in this situation. They plan to work with women across Serbia, informing them of their rights and how to protect themselves online, as well as what to do if they become victims of this type of violence. They are also in the process of registering to provide free legal assistance to women who are victims of image-based sexual abuse. “This is a big step for us, but we believe it is necessary,” she says.

Some countries in the region have managed to regulate this type of abuse, including Montenegro, which recently introduced the criminal offence of abusing recordings, photographs, portraits, audio recordings and files with sexually explicit content, which carries a prison sentence of up to two years, while Croatia introduced the criminal offence of abusing sexually explicit recordings in 2022.

Although Kosovo’s legal framework does not recognise image-based sexual abuse as a specific criminal offence, similar to Serbia, some of these cases can be prosecuted under other laws. One of the best-known cases of such Telegram groups in Kosovo is the Albkings group, which operates in a similar way to those in Serbia and has been active since January 2023, with over 100 thousand members. After the leak of 20,000 photos and 19,000 videos, the group went private, while the law enforcement crackdown began in February 2024, when an 18-year-old man was arrested after a girl reported him for publishing her photos following her refusal to comply with his demands in an attempt to blackmail her, according to BIRN report. At the end of May, seven more suspects were arrested for distributing personal information, photos and videos of women and girls without their consent,  following testimonies of several victims.

Albkings are an example of another harmful practice within these groups, where members intentionally share women’s personal information and contact details, including phone numbers, in order to continue their abuse and harassment. Group administrators encouraged this behaviour with group rules such as “Send numbers, photos/videos, snaps, etc. Only Albanian”. After reporting on the group, two journalists working for Klan Kosova and BIRN, both women, also had their phone numbers and personal information shared on the group. Journalist Ardiana Thaçi Mehmeti was harassed by group members who sent her text messages and called her after she reported on the activities of the Albkings group on the investigative programme KIKS Kosova, which she presents on the Klan Kosova TV channel.

Another pattern within these groups is that they operate across borders, having members throughout the region and the Balkan diaspora, separated only by language. Just as the Albkings group asked for ‘only Albanian’ women, similar requests were made in the groups researched by OsnaŽene in Serbia, with group names such as ‘only domestic’, ‘Balkan sluts’, ‘domestic whores’ and ‘Balkan housewives’. As feminist activist Nikolina Pavićević pointed out, men gather in these groups specifically to target women from the region. In an Instagram post on her platform Kritički, she says: “Pay attention to how they look for local girls, women from the Balkans. This is how they further degrade women and demonstrate control over their territory.“

After her post went viral and received over 80 thousand likes, Pavićević, as well as members of OsnaŽene and the authors of the article exposing the Telegram groups Ana Zdravković, Nikolina Tomašević and Staša Ivković, were targeted by group members on social media and within these groups. The issue of image-based sexual violence in Serbia and Kosovo highlights an obvious gap in our readiness to tackle newer forms of gender-based violence, leaving most victims unable to access justice and safety. Despite the clear rise of this type of violence in the dark corners of the manosphere (made up of online communities that promote misogynistic narratives and target real women) institutions in the region remain unprepared and lack proactive measures to protect victims, hold perpetrators accountable and prevent this type of violence by addressing its root cause – the deeply rooted patriarchy in the societies we live in.

Author: Anja Anđušić

Photo: kovop/Shutterstock.com