EUREKA PRINT EDISH 2018: THE FUTURE OF THE BALKANS
belgrade bus station (via)
This article is from Eureka Magazine’s print edition. You should be able to find one of the 500 copies of our FORTRESS EUROPE edition in a common room near you, but if you’re summering away (darling!) we’re publishing all of the articles online anyway, so you never have to venture into the fresh hell that is our university!
I first visited Serbia in 2015 to attend a science camp. Together with a classmate, I took an 8-hour train going from Ljubljana, Slovenia to Belgrade, Serbia, where we took a bus towards Valjevo, a smaller town in the eastern part of Serbia. After the long journey, we both desperately needed to “answer the call of nature”. The condition of the bus station from the outside was not promising, but we were still optimistic about finding a clean place to relieve ourselves. Upon entering the station, we sensed a revolting odour, which we successfully identified as the smell of the men’s restroom. Instead of regular urinals, we found a small room completely covered in tiles, with sewage drains on the floor. The only place to stand was a small isle in the middle, with an even more questionable cleaning record than the “urinal” itself. The scene was not the most appetizing, wich made us reconsider and suppress our needs for a while longer.
After passing this traumatic initiation, we took a bus towards our final stop - the Science Centre. The drive felt long and unpleasant, which made my mind wonder about the week we were about to spend at the centre. Based on my experience from the bus station, I was reasonably suspicious about the seminar we were about to attend. When we finally arrived, all my doubts faded away. Renovated only five years ago, the Science Center boasts over 10 laboratories, a 170-bed campus, 7,500 square meters of working space and more than 40,000 pieces of literature in its libraries. The stark contrast between the shabby bus stop in Valjevo and this state-of-the-art research facility blew my mind. I simply could not believe that the two could be in the same country, less than a 20 minute drive apart.
In front of the building complex, three flags were hanging from their poles: a flag with the centre’s logo, a Serbian flag and (surprisingly) the flag of the European Union. The third one was especially puzzling to me, since Serbia is not an EU Member State. My doubts were resolved by a quick online search revealing a €9.69 million EU investment into renovating the centre in 2010. Such investments reflect the EU’s general policy, best summed up by Jean Claude Juncker's statement: ”Investing in the stability and prosperity of the Western Balkans means investing in the security and future of our Union.’’ The idea behind this policy is to stabilize the region, known to be problematic throughout the whole of the 20th century. As a young teenager, I could not have agreed more: I sincerely believed that international projects aimed at the youth were an effective measure to overcome the divisions ingrained in our minds by the region’s historical consciousness. I was also aware that such investments could unify the Balkans by winning over the public opinion of the Serbian youth, a tactic that seemed to pay off in opinion polls.
On the same issue, the High Representative of the European Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy Federica Mogherini commented: "The Western Balkans are part of Europe: we share the same history, the same geography, the same cultural heritage and the same opportunities and challenges today and in the future.’’ Even though her thoughts have a dose of truth to them, they come as a bit of an overstatement. This is especially the case with Serbia’s curious national identity. Throughout its history Serbia has been known to fluctuate between many spheres of interest, often finding Russia as its Eastern Orthodox ally. A similar situation can currently be observed with Serbia’s president Aleksandar Vućić’s visit to Moscow being glorified in newspaper headlines such as “Serbia will not betray Russia” and “A symbolic ending of stagnation in relations.”
Besides considering rough numbers and bold headlines, I also personally experienced Serbia’s love affair with Russia. Throughout my visit, I met a reasonable amount of prominent Russophiles, some even great admirers of the country’s history and its “glorious” Tsarist Empire. The experience was further amplified after we passed the majestic 140m-tall Genex tower in the western outskirts of Belgrade. Spanning its entire facade was an enormous poster depicting a Russian and Serbian flag wrapped around each other. The poster was depicting a “партнерство за будућност” (partnership for the future), symbolizing Russian Gazprom’s acquisition of Naftna Industrija Srbije (NIS), a company which held a monopoly over oil imports and petroleum production in Serbia.
As a young high-schooler, I found all this geopolitical background surrounding my seminar slightly disgusting. Despite all my aversion, I remained optimistic that throughout the following years EU investments would sway Serbia’s youth away from Russia and closer to its neighbours. I believed that by “bribing” the youth, the EU would finally manage to create cohesion in the Balkans, make us forget our bloody history and live happily ever after... All of it seemed very idealistic, and my childish dreams were finally crushed by the fact that the seminar I attended was also sponsored by NIS - the oil company looking for a “partnership for the future” with Russia.