Reflections from Belgrade
Published: 12 May 2025
Theo Clarke is a Central & East European Studies student and this blog post is drawn from his work on the Monuments and Memories: The Legacies of Communism field trip course
From graffiti on abandoned department stores to commemorations in public museums, Serbian interpretations of history which jar with Western narratives can be found everywhere in Belgrade
This reflexive field trip diary is to document my trip to Belgrade, Serbia, from the 16th to the 23rd of February 2025. A key aspect of this trip was developing an understanding of contested memory and how this plays out in the public sphere, such as through state-sponsored commemoration (or lack thereof) and observing how the public interact with this. Additionally, we visited the city during the third month of protests after a tragedy in the city of Novi Sad. This meant that we had a unique insight into state-society relations in Belgrade.
Before the trip, I had a conception of what I expected to find in Belgrade. This was mostly due to following English-language news on the country, a course in Balkan history (which at this point I had studied up to the Second World War) and Belgrade: A Cultural History by David Norris. I had expected to find a mix of legacies in the city, both architecturally and culturally, reflecting the many regimes which have ruled the city in modern times: Ottoman; royal Obrenović and Karađorđević dynasties; Communist Yugoslavia; the Milosevic regime of the 1990s; and the post 2000 parliamentary democracy. I was somewhat surprised by the lack of buildings from the period of Turkish rule, however on reflection the sheer quantity of change that the city has undergone since then makes this understandable. Additionally, the efforts from later regimes to legitimise Serbia as an independent state and the Ottomans as occupiers help explain the very low number of remaining buildings from the period.
My own views and background influenced the meanings I attributed to my observations and how I interacted with the city and its residents. For example, my opinions on the ongoing Russian invasion of Ukraine and my having grown up in the United Kingdom meant I had an initially negative reaction to seeing anti-NATO and pro-Russian graffiti in the city. This, however, gave me the opportunity to reflect on my own positionality as a researcher, and to take the time to try understanding how and why Belgrade's residents would feel differently about these issues. Whilst the political narratives around NATO in the UK are for the most part positive, in Serbia and Belgrade specifically the scars of the 1999 bombings are still relatively fresh, which was important for me to reflect on to ensure objectivity.
An aspect of Belgrade I initially found surprising was the large amount of graffiti, often in prominent places and, according to conversations with our lecturer and others who had previously visited the city, long lasting. Slogans such as 'Kosovo je Srbija' (Kosovo is Serbia) and negative slogans about NATO were common, and graffiti was the primary way in which narratives surrounding the conflicts of the 1990s could be seen in the city. Whilst the content of these was not surprising, I found it a fascinating way to understand the displays of collective memory from the public. Additionally, the longevity of much of the graffiti, especially those in highly visible places, reflects a deliberate choice by the state not to remove them, giving tacit approval of their messages, such as 'Kosovo is Serbia' being written, in English, in a prominent location visible as you leave the international airport. This is an opportunity to study a different perspective on collective memory: not performed by the state and interacted with by the public, but performed by the public and interacted with (or, crucially, not) by the state. Cadavid showed that graffiti can play an important role in the construction of collective memory and as a format for society and the government to interact in cities with legacies of violence, which is a fascinating paradigm through which to understand the process of collective memory formation in Belgrade, especially relating to the conflicts of the 1990s where conflicting narratives are present.
Another valuable part of the experience was the opportunity to speak to some of the students who were occupying their university in protest, which we did on the second day. The reasons they gave for their protests were explicitly linked to the tragedy in Novi Sad, and there was no mention of wider political intentions, which was a stark change from how the protests have often been reported in British media, which had often portrayed the protests as of a directly political nature. An article in the Guardian opens with mention of the protests in 2000 which led to the resignation of Slobodan Milošević, linking the two protest movements, which is not the impression we received from our conversation with the students. However, this was an informal conversation with a small group of students, whose views may not be representative of the moment as a whole, which includes other groups from society in addition to many students from Belgrade and other cities.
Much of my reading before the trip had been looking at the legacies of the 1990s in the city and from this, I was expecting to find little directly grappling with the legacy, in addition to the remains of buildings damaged by the 1999 NATO bombing. This also perhaps coloured my expectations of the city as one of a post-conflict society which, while true, is not the only defining characteristic of the city. My expectations were largely confirmed: museums only mentioned the subject briefly, such as the Museum of Yugoslavia ending with a vague reference to the 'The wars and the breakup of Yugoslavia'. The Military Museum has a section which presented a very clear narrative of NATO as the aggressor against a smaller state, such as by directly comparing the ground forces of Serbia and NATO, despite no ground battles taking place between the two.
I was surpised to find a statue commemorating the victims and defenders of the 1990s in a relatively prominent location, as I had not expected this period of history to be confronted directly. The wording of the plaque was vague and open to interpretation, without promoting a clear narrative, which reflects the nature of the contested memory of the 1990s. One explanation for the existence and vagueness of the statue is that it was intended a compromise between different groups: many within Serbia agree with the governments' narrative of victimhood around the conflicts for the 1990s, whilst the EU, which the Serbian government was keen to join at the time of the creation of the monument, wants to see a more direct confrontation with the legacy. By failing to present a single, clear point of the view, the statue aims to appease both groups, however it leaves the observer unsure as to what they are seeing and what its meaning is meant to be, epecially for an outside observer such as myself.
Another way in which we could observe changes in Belgrade society was through looking at statues. Many of the older ones from the years and decades after Serbia first received independence present figures of authority in Ottoman-style clothes, reflecting the fact that at this point in time, Serbia still looked to Constantinople for inspiration, whilst later statues were in Western dress, demonstrating a change in direction for the country and what its elites wanted to become. Most of these statues were built by the state and reflect the changing attitudes of it.
Many of my assumptions about the city were, to a greater or lesser degree, confirmed, but I still found parts of the trip surprising, such as how the influx of Russians into Belgrade has changed public attitudes about Russia and NATO, and consequently English-speaking tourists, which was especially noticeable in conversation with other students who had visited the city a year earlier. Insights such as these are invaluable, and I would not have been able to fully appreciate this without undertaking the field trip.
Seeing public commemoration of history and how the public interacts with it, e.g. through graffiti, contextualised much of what I knew about collective and contested memory. The research greatly benefitted by being led by a lecturer who grew up there, which meant we had access to a more personal understanding of the city, in addition to being able to discuss how the city and country have changed.
The trip deepened my understanding of how collective memory is shaped and interacted with in public spaces. Being able to see the remnants of so many different regimes in one city contextualised its complex past, with the new buildings of Belgrade Waterfront, representing what could be Serbia's future. This was a valuable opportunity to expand and reflect on my abilities as a researcher.
The image used for this blog on the SPS Student Academic Blog Series is a photo taken by Theo Clarke as part of the field trip.
First published: 12 May 2025
Theo Clarke is a Central & East European Studies student and this blog post is drawn from his work on the Monuments and Memories: The Legacies of Communism field trip course