Obstacle Course – Navigating Trianon (The Lost Cities #13)

The Treaty of Trianon brought about as many problems as it tried to solve. It was a consequence of the First World War and helped lead to the second one. Austria, Czechoslovakia, and Yugoslavia all gained territory at Hungary’s expense. This led to resentments and recriminations, some of which have survived for over a century and still rise to the surface today. Thankfully, membership in the European Union for all the successor states, except for Serbia, has guaranteed minority rights and led to peaceful resolution of disputes. There is also the factor of time. Trianon is now over a hundred years old. While time does not heal all wounds, it tends to soften them.

By the standards of the troubles that Trianon spawned, the ones it caused me while I developed my itinerary for the lost cities beyond the borders of Hungary was relatively minor. Despite my irritation, the exercise offered a lesson on how the legacy of Trianon continues to manifest itself in the present. The treaty created the obstacle course of borders that are still logistically difficult to navigate. That is nothing compared to the border problems that ensued after Trianon went into effect. Having crossed all the borders at one time or another in my travels, I still cannot help but wonder why peoples and nations that have so much in common insist on making it hard on one another. Of course, that is easy for me to say since I do not have the historical or personal experience of the inhabitants.

Set in stone – Border marker between Hungary and Romania (Credit: Kelenbp)

Historical irony – Hungary For Hungarians
Like all treaties, Trianon had good and bad sides to it. How one feels about it depends on which side they are one. Hungarians detest it. Romanians, Slovaks, and to a lesser extent Serbs view it as historical justice. Oddly enough, Hungarians did benefit from it in one respect they tend to overlook. What was left of Hungary became much more ethnically Hungarian. The aftermath of World War II made that even more so when Hungary expelled its ethnic German community. In the Hungarian administered half of the Austro-Hungarian Empire the only way Hungarians could make up half the population was by counting the Jewish inhabitants as Hungarians. With World War II wiping out Hungary’s Germans and Jews, the country became overwhelmingly Hungarian. This consequential legacy was unintended and can be traced directly back to Trianon. It has proven to be long-lasting.

Hungary was always going to be first and foremost for Hungarians. Trianon made it even more so. This was a case of “be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.” Hungarians got a homogenous state. The drawback was it happened to be much smaller than what they would have ever imagined. No Erdely (Transylvania), no Felvidek (Upper Hungary, i.e. Slovakia), no Ujvidek (Vojvodina/northern Serbia). Hungary without minorities (other than Roma) is an historical irony. Trianon was the start of a homogenization process that lasted another twenty-five years in Hungary. This is an uncomfortable and irrefutable truth. And like all historical truths, it is not black or white, it is grey. No one in Hungary will ever be celebrating Trianon. How could they? But an acknowledgement that the treaty inadvertently led Hungary to become a more cohesive state would go some way in mitigating the resentments that do not benefit anyone, most of all Hungarians. 

Come together – Romania Border Monument at the tripoint with Hungary and Ukraine (Credit: Barry 432)

Direct Descendants – Controlling The Border
The borders created by Trianon are both an inhibiting factor and opportunity for me. They make travel more time-consuming and at times, outright intimidating. Who among us wants to stare into the placid eyes of a border officer that is as close to a direct descendant of Trianon as I will ever find. Without the treaty, they would not be standing their nation’s ground. They are the ultimate arbiters of who can or cannot pass. It is that simple and incredibly complex. Where else can I visit seven cities in six countries that all have a historical link to the same neighboring country? Cities that are at most an hour away from the border by car. Near and yet so far away.

The most unnatural of borders have stood the test of time and the tempest of war. While the changes that buffeted Eastern Europe since World War One have been mind boggling, Trianon’s detested and contested borders have remained largely the same. The Second World War could only alter the new status quo for a handful of years. The borders have been permanent since then. Hungarians like to lament that they are the only country that borders itself. That depends upon one’s perspective, and their perspective is understandably Magyar centric. My perspective is that of the tourist spying an unprecedented opportunity to step between past and present. I can think of no better place to understand the First World War’s enduring legacy than crossing the borders imposed by Trianon and discovering the lost cities that lie beyond them.

Past & present – Along the Hungary-Serbia border (Credit: Andrea Schmidt)

On The Same Side – Unbreakable Connections
The idea of the lost cities is fascinating for an outsider, maddening to a Hungarian, and off putting to their current inhabitants. The consternation caused by Trianon still exists today. The shooting and shouting may have ended, but rest assured there are millions still coming to terms with the treaty’s ramifications. The ancestors of those who left the lost cities and the current inhabitants whose ancestors came to inhabit them will be forever connected by an historical event that had nothing to do with them and still has everything to do with them.

It is much easier for me as an outsider to set aside the consternation that comes with the treaty. Oddly, I have a reason to be grateful for Trianon. Without it, there would be no lost cities for me to visit or an itinerary to develop. That may sound selfish, but that makes it no less true. Trianon was the cause and consequence for planning such a trip. It connects all the lost cities together. For all their differences of language, economies and culture, the lost cities are forever bound together by a shared fate. There is no way they can escape this history. Eventually it comes for everyone on either side of the border. 

Click here for: Chaotic Conclusions – The Right Side of the Border in Historic Hungary (The Lost Cities #14a)

Magic Act – Subotica’s Starring Role (The Lost Cities #12)

I felt depression beginning to descend upon me as I neared the end of developing my itinerary for the lost cities beyond Hungary’s borders. By the time I reached the final city, Subotica in northern Serbia, I should have been suffering full blown sadness. Instead, I began to feel radiant. Subotica can do that to me. My first visit to the city took place four years ago and it was spectacular. A bright winter day, cool and crisp beneath a sky that could not have been bluer. Subotica’s architecture matched the rays of light that shined down upon it. The City Hall was one of the most impressive buildings I have ever seen and that was without stepping inside. Subotica gave me everything and left me wanting more.

Lighting ceremony – Splendor in Subotica

Now Playing – City Of Survival
Sometimes for your own sanity, you need to let things go. Loved ones you have lost, first loves that faded, other romances that failed, human and otherwise. Love usually comes and goes. It is like a secret that gets passed around. Once in a great while, true love stays with you. And so it is with the lost cities. They continue to occupy my imagination. Perhaps that is because of the inherent drama in their history since the late nineteenth century. Any one of the lost cities would make a great play. My final stop in Subotica is grand theater. There are multiple acts (Austria-Hungary, Kingdom of Yugoslavia, wartime Hungary, communist Yugoslavia, Serbia), heroes (Art Nouveau architects) and villains (communists, fascists, and nationalists), romance (not just for individuals, but for the entire city) and tragedy (World Wars I and II, Treaty of Trianon, the Holocaust) suffering and loss (ethnic Hungarians, Jews, other minorities), survival and resurrection (the city center, synagogue). All the ingredients are there for tragedy and triumph.

Various iterations of the play have been running for over a century to dramatic effect. There are matinees and midnight showings. The current version features Subotica’s survival and resurrection. Art Nouveau architecture plays the leading role. The performance does not disappoint. The play opens with the main protagonist seeing the Raichle Palace just after arrival at the train station. The decorative floral patterns on the building are in full bloom. That opening catches the viewer’s attention, Subotica Synagogue captures it. The superlatives to describe this scene have not yet been invented. The play unfolds from there throughout the city center. Reviews fail to do it justice, but the scribes still try. I located the following review deep in my imagination:

The Subotica Synagogue is the closest thing to magic. For those who have trouble believing in God, seeing the fully restored synagogue will prove to be a revelation. Its architecture and aesthetics, symmetry and spirituality are inspired by a higher power. Eternity is preserved within those hallowed walls. The synagogue proves to be as astonishing as the history of the people who worshiped there is tragic. Nothing in the viewer’s experience can prepare them for such a setting,

Subotica’s survival is the counterpoint to all the hurt, all the anger, all the pain, that fell on this little corner of Eastern Europe after the First World War. The city suffers grievous wounds for many decades, but the cityscape survives as an expression of human creativity and ingenuity. Its most stunning pieces of architecture represent the highest levels of artistic achievement. For the play’s protagonist, Subotica’s city center is a stand in for all that is worth saving in the world. He finally realizes that he has entered the magic kingdom. The spiritual force of the structures is so real that the viewer, like the protagonist, can feel them. The hand of God which designed, crafted, and sculpted Subotica reaches out to touch the audience.

Heavenly ascent – Inside Subotica Synagogue

Transcendent Beauty – Desperate Tragedy
Subotica is an endless reel, a succession of spectacular images that keep playing in my head. Do all good things have to end? Maybe not since Subotica and all the other lost cities are still standing. The itinerary I developed will end, but the lost cities will go on. Someone, somewhere, right now is rediscovering them. They are seeing something of themselves in the transcendent beauty and desperate tragedy that stalks their squares and streets. The greatest discovery I made while developing my itinerary is that in the lost cities, I see the best and worst aspects of myself. In Eisenstadt, my frivolity is represented by the candy-colored Esterhazy Palace. In Bratislava’s Old Town, the walls I have built around myself to keep the rest of the world out. In Kosice’s towering St. Elisabeth’s Cathedral, a dream I will never reach. In Uzhhorod, the place where I fear to go. In Oradea, the best version of myself. În Timișoara, my ingratitude for the gift of life after the apocalypse. In Subotica, my belief that life is everlasting.

Each lost city feels like the first and last day on earth. I am sure many of those who suffered and survived in them felt the same. The Austro-Hungarian Empire could be just as bright and beautiful as those who built it. The empire could also be just as dark and decadent as those who destroyed it. All empires vanish, not a single one has managed to survive. That stark fact should be just as humbling to us as Austria-Hungary’s collapse was to its inhabitants. The true measure of an empire is not in its ascension and apex, nor in its decline and fall. The true measure of an empire is its legacy. What it leaves behind for others to build upon, to aspire, to protect, and preserve. In that regard, the legacy of Austria-Hungary is well served by the lost cities. There is still life in those ruins.

Lighting up the night – Subotica’s City Hall

Imperial Ways – Life Lessons
The lost cities are astonishing storehouses of art, architecture, and culture. They teach us lessons in history from which we can learn. They show how to prosper during good times and endure when all hope seems lost. They demonstrate the ability to bask in past glories, while stepping boldly into the future. They tell us to enjoy what we have because one day it will be gone. They demonstrate that nothing is inevitable, even if it seems that way.

Click here for: Obstacle Course – Navigating Trianon (The Lost Cities #13)

Beyond Experience – Trianon’s Living Legacy (The Lost Cities #11)

One of the most important and overlooked moments in history occurs when the last person with direct experience of an historical event dies. One of the more memorable recent examples was when Florence Green, the last veteran of the First World War died. That meant there was no one left with living memory of a war that launched the 20^th century on its violent trajectory and changed the world forever. While the war officially ended 94 years before Ms. Green died, the living memory of it lasted up to her death in 2012. Only then, had the war truly become history in the past tense. There was no one left with military experience of the war. At some undetermined point not far into the future, the last civilian who had personal experience of the war would also have died. After that, everything about World War I comes to us second hand. The greatest primary historical sources known to us are gone forever. That also holds true for other events surrounding the war such as the Paris Peace Conference. That seminal event radically altered the borders of Eastern Europe. That legacy lives on today.

Border control – Austria-Hungary border in 1914 & 1920 (Credit: Richard Andree)

Living Link – A Lasting Legacy
You don’t know what you got until it’s gone. That is one cliché that has the ring of truth. My mentor, who was also a university history professor, told me that one of his former colleagues had been at the Paris Peace Conference as an advisor to the negotiators. He spoke of this colleague several times, always bringing up their attendance at the conference. There were no specific stories relating to his colleague’s work in Paris, but that was not really the point. Just knowing someone who had been in attendance was a source of fascination. Hearing about a living connection to such an important world historical event made the peace conference seem much closer. The usual black and white photographs found in history books communicate distance. A personal connection brings the past closer. Everything that happened in Paris seems more intriguing.

I was only indirectly linked to my mentor’s colleague, but I wanted to ask him many questions. What and who did he see at the peace conference? Did he have any idea at the time of what troubles would result from the treaties? Those questions cannot be answered because the man passed away long ago. A living link has been broken forever. Other legacies of the Paris Peace Conference are as alive today as when the treaties that resulted from the negotiations went into effect. Specifically, the Treaty of Trianon which partitioned the Kingdom of Hungary’s territory.  More than any of the other treaties negotiated at the peace conference, Trianon is the one that is still controversial. I have felt the tension of that controversy when traveling throughout the parts of Eastern Europe affected by Trianon. The legacy of Trianon was the reason I planned my itinerary for the lost cities beyond Hungary’s borders.

A sense of finality – Treaty of Trianon (Credit: C. Stadler/Bwag)

Obstacle Courses – Trapped by Trianon
We are not trapped within the past, as much as we are trapped by it. That is because history hems us in. We are wedded to the past and it is difficult, if not impossible, to find grounds for divorce. All the history that has ever happened created the world in which we now live. And in my case, the world in which I want to travel. This includes my itinerary for visiting the lost cities. The Treaty of Trianon’s legacy is written all over my itinerary because of borders and railway networks. For instance, planning a journey from Timisoara to Subotica turned into a logistical nightmare. One that I suffered from the comfort of an armchair in a climate-controlled home. I can only imagine how tiring the actual trip might be. In the 21^st century, all the obstacles of borders, different national railway networks, and schedules that lead to increasingly lengthy travel times feel unnecessary. I have read quite a few books and articles which cover the treaty making that led to the Austro-Hungarian Empire being carved up by the victors of World War I. Very little of that reading prepared me for just how much the Treaty of Trianon’s legacy still affects travel throughout the region.

Planning a trip to visit the lost cities should have been relatively simple. Well, it was at the turn of the 20^th century. Back then the lost cities were all connected with Budapest. That would not last as the nations that inherited the lost cities after Trianon hit the kill switch on parts of the Hungarian Railway Network which ran into their territories. The lines that still ran were at the mercy of border control which meant mind numbing delays. This not only hurt people, but it also dealt a terrible blow to the economies of Hungary and all the successor states as economic connections were severed. People, transport, and commodities had to be rerouted. Subotica would now look to Belgrade, instead of Budapest. The same was true for Timisoara, whose overlords were now in Bucharest. The list goes on. None of the successor states trusted Hungary and Hungary seethed with resentment. This was fertile ground for radical ideologies to take hold. 

Monumental memory – Trianon memorial in a Hungarian town (Credit: Laslovarga)

Opening The Border – An Uneasy Peace
Whether the changes wrought by Trianon made any sense or not, they would have staying power. The Second World War altered them momentarily, but afterwards the borders snapped shut with a vengeance. The changes have been permanent ever since then. Only membership in the European Union has slowly pried some of them back open again. That is still not the case with Hungary and Serbia, or Romania and Serbia. Even the Hungary-Romania border still has border control. Seventeen years after Romania became an EU member state it is due to finally be allowed in the Schengen Zone. That might help make following my itinerary to the lost cities a bit easier. One thing that will not is the continuing legacy of Trianon. I sometimes wonder what my mentor’s colleague saw at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919, perhaps the end of one world, and the beginning of a more insular one.

Click here for: Magic Act – Subotica’s Starring Role (The Lost Cities #12)

Delayed Gratification – Finding The Way To Subotica (The Lost Cities #10)

Four years ago, I woke up on a snowless winter morning in Belgrade with one thing on my mind, catching a bus to Novi Sad in northern Serbia. The gentleman who drove me to the bus station owned the hotel in which I had stayed the previous night. He was a talkative, bombastic man who regaled me with stories about his family, respect for Tito, the state of the Serbian economy, and corruption in Serbia as compared to Romania. While discussing the latter, he also mentioned that when flying abroad for vacation he preferred to use Timisoara’s airport. I imagined what it must be like driving to another country for a flight. Border crossings tend to be slow and prone to unexpected delays. The way the man talked, this was not a problem for him and his wife. I assumed they had done it so many times that it was second nature. Familiarity can make a challenging situation easier to endure. That is especially when it comes to travel logistics.

Rolling stock – Train from Timisoara arriving at Jimbolia (Credit: Phil Richards)

Behind The Times – A Lack of Coordination
This was not the first time I had heard about travel between Belgrade and Timisoara. One of the first people I befriended while traveling in Bulgaria was an American who fell in love with the Balkans. He also happened to be a rail travel enthusiast. He looked for every opportunity to take trains. A year after we first met, he wrote to tell me about a recent journey back to the Balkans. After visiting Belgrade, his next destination was Timisoara. He wanted to see the city where the Romanian Revolution started in 1989. He assumed that it would be relatively easy to catch a train between the two cities since Belgrade is the Serbian capital and Timisoara a major transport hub only 150 kilometers to the northeast. It did not take him long to be disabused of that notion.

The fastest train between Timisoara and Belgrade takes four and a half hours. Delays at the border can make the journey even longer. Buses are not much faster. The Issue is exacerbated by Serbia not being in the European Union, while Romania is a member state. The possibility of smuggling prolongs wait times at the border. My friend decided to take a minibus that travels the route each day. I now wonder if the Serb I met in Belgrade does the same thing when he flies out of Timisoara. The minibus saves time and trouble.

The difficulty of traveling from Belgrade to Timisoara illustrates just how much borders delay travelers. They are a surmountable obstacle, but still a detriment to anyone unprepared for a prolonged journey. National borders make rail services less prolific because each country has their own national railways. Coordination is never easy. Some of the difficulties have been smoothed out since the Iron Curtain collapsed, but the issue is still there, and will be into the foreseeable future until Serbia becomes a member of the European Union. No one is holding their breath.

My friend’s trip from Belgrade to Timisoara comes to mind as I plan to travel in the opposite direction. My next port of call after Timisoara is the last lost city on my itinerary, Subotica, Serbia. My affinity for railway travel means I want to find a route that will get me there in a timely manner while enjoying a relaxing ride from the historical regions of the Banat and Vojvodina. I know from experience that this will not be easy. I had my own travel issues in Serbia four years ago when I wanted to make the journey from Belgrade to Novi Sad by train. Due to ongoing maintenance work on the line, I took a bus packed with university students. I would rather not repeat that experience because the only thing worse than a bus, is a crowded bus.

On the lighter side – Szeged Railway Station

Fringe Possibilities – On The Edge
Timisoara is on the western edge of Romania, Subotica is on the northern edge of Serbia. One similarity both cities share historically is that they were in the Hungarian administered half (Transleithania) of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. At the turn of the 20^th century traveling from Timisoara to Subotica would not have involved a journey to Belgrade. That was because the latter was part of the Kingdom of Serbia, the arch enemy of Austria-Hungary. Travelers from Timisoara would have made the journey to Subotica via Szeged. Now all three cities are in different countries rather than a single empire. Taking the same journey today requires two border crossings. The only thing more irritating than one border crossing is having to make two on the same day. Nevertheless, I decided to research a trip from Timisoara via Szeged to Subotica.  

The first leg of the trip takes a whopping six hours by train because there is no direct connection between Timisoara and Szeged. I would need to change trains in the small Hungarian city of Bekescsaba. Once in Szeged, the train to Subotica is direct and takes a much more merciful hour and a half. Another intriguing option is to take a three-hour bus journey between Timisoara and Szeged, then hop on another bus or switch to a train in Szeged. I did the bus journey between Subotica and Szeged four years ago in an hour. If all these logistical details seem confusing, welcome to the world that emerged from the collapse of Austria-Hungary. Efficient railway routes were one of the postwar World War I world’s greatest casualties in Eastern Europe.

Going back in time – Subotica’s Town Hall in 1912 (Credit: Fortepan)

Buried Treasures – Provincial Potential
I finally decided on a train from Timisoara to Subotica that does not go through Szeged. This requires a couple of transfers and hiring a taxi for the thirty-minute ride between Jimbolia and Kinkinda which are on opposite sides of the Romania-Serbia border. This will take me deep into the provincial heart of northern Serbia. As an added incentive, some believe the treasure of Attila the Hun is buried somewhere in this area. There are always new discoveries to be made off the beaten path. The best, and sometimes only way to make them, is by taking an inefficient route through backwaters in the northern Balkans.  

Click here for: Beyond Experience – Trianon’s Living Legacy (The Lost Cities #11)

Playing The Victim – Imagining The Worst In Sarajevo (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #80)

My travels to Eastern Europe began with a trip to the Balkans in 2009. I chose Eastern Europe as my destination of choice because of my interest in its 20^th century history. The Balkans were a great starting point because the region had been the setting for one of the most transformative moments in world history. Specifically, the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. When the shots that sounded the death knell of Franz Ferdinand rang out in the streets of Sarajevo, they were also the starting gun for World War I. Nothing was ever the same in Europe and much of the world after Gavrilo Princip, the Bosnian Serb assassin, pulled the trigger.

I have always found it mind boggling that the assassination of an intensely disliked Habsburg royal who had managed to offend the powers that be in both halves of the Austro-Hungarian Dual Monarchy ended up being the impetus for that empire to destroy itself. Furthermore, three other empires did the same thing all because a man whose main avocation in life was delinquency managed to commit murder while standing on a sidewalk in front of Schiller’s delicatessen. All this sounds ridiculously improbable, but it was not impossible.

Beginning of the end – Serbian property destroyed in Sarajevo after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand

Fathomless Depths – A Lack of Experience
Visiting the site of the Archduke’s assassination in Sarajevo, I was able to fathom how it occurred.  Nevertheless, I found the thought of what the assassination led to unfathomable. Tens of millions of dead all because an intensely disliked blowhard was gunned down by a wayward assassin. If someone were to pitch a movie with such a premise, I doubt they could find anyone to donate a dollar towards the production. Such phrases as “you can’t make this stuff up” “the truth is stranger than fiction” and “never let history get in the way of a good story” all come to mind. Sarajevo was one of many such moments in my travels across Eastern Europe when I had trouble coming to terms with the past. I found a single event easy to understand, it was the vast ramifications associated with an event that confounded me. That was especially true with the assassination in Sarajevo.

The trouble with trying to understand what happened in the past is that in most cases we have nothing in our lives to which we can compare it. I have stood on many battlefields contemplating how events unfolded, but it always feels distant because I lack personal experience. I have often wondered if I would still be interested in military history if I had ever seen the true face of battle. The same holds true for my fascination with historical sites associated with some of the darkest moments in the history of Eastern Europe. I find these deeply disturbing and often try to put myself in the place of those who were there, but I am still far removed in time and place.

Willful destruction – Looted property from Serb shops in Sarajevo

Post-Traumatic – The Fathomless Depths
I could not fathom going back to visit such places if I had been a bystander, let alone a victim or perpetrator, to what had occurred. Anyone who has ever heard a person scream out of sheer terror or horrific pain as they are being attacked knows how deeply unsettling that can be. Seeing the same thing happen to innocent civilians is an unbearable thought. I cannot say for sure, but if I had personally witnessed the Archduke’s assassination it would have been shocking, but not traumatizing. What occurred in its aftermath would have been the real horror. This was the violence perpetrated by the masses against Sarajevo’s Serbian community who had nothing to do with the assassination. This aspect of the assassination is only commented on in a few sentences or a footnote at most in history books. That does not do the anger, hatred, and rage justice. Watching people attacked on the street by angry mobs would have been intensely traumatic. Much more so than the Archduke’s assassination. That is because I cannot identify with Franz Ferdinand. I can identify with innocent bystanders since that would have been the role I was most likely to play in Sarajevo. Violence directed against civilians by an angry mob is a terrifying thought.

I imagine that most people are like me and identify more with victims than perpetrators, the powerless rather than the powerful. Innocence died that day in Sarajevo. Watching someone get kicked and beaten who is like you would be traumatizing. The inevitable question would be “Am I next?” Riots are chaotic and take on a life of their own. Rioters cease to think of themselves and identify with their fellow rioters. Chaotic violence has the capacity to turn on anyone who might be perceived as a guilty party. Herd mentality can lead people to commit acts of violence they would otherwise be considered distasteful or unthinkable. Violence is an animal instinct. One that is neither reasonable nor rational. The predator is likely to deem anyone who is different their prey.

Mob rule – Crowds on the streets in Sarajevo following anti-Serb riot

Bearing The Brunt – No Good Options
The Serbs of Sarajevo suffered the excesses of violent instincts after the assassination. Livelihoods were destroyed in a matter of minutes. Shops were ransacked and personal property plundered. Blows landed on Serbs unlucky enough to be standing on the street or guarding their homes or shops. Ironically, the assassin, Gavrilo Princip got off rather easy in the immediate aftermath of his murderous action. While Princip was arrested and roughed up, he could not be beaten to an inch of his life by the Austro-Hungarian authorities because they needed answers from him to rout out any potential co-conspirators. There were a limited number of them.

Those Serbs in Sarajevo who were not party to the assassination ended up bearing the brunt of public anger. While some of them likely shared Princip’s anti-Habsburg sympathies, they were not the ones resorting to violence. They were easy targets, as we all are when caught on the wrong side of a situation gone horribly wrong. I could have been one of those people caught up in the maelstrom and faced with bad options. Either fight back against mob violence, take a beating. or run for my life. After the Archduke’s assassination there were no good options and a lot of victims.

The Dead Channel – Balkanization In Rijeka: The Italian-Yugoslav Experience (Part Two)

In the geo-political chess game that took place in the post-World War I world, the two main ethnic groups in the of Fiume/Rijeka (Italians/Croats) were pawns used to advance the interests of Italy and Yugoslavia. This was especially true of the former as Fiume became intertwined with the rise of fascism in Italy. The situation would take several years to sort out. In another one of those post-World War One concoctions which lead to strife rather than peace, the peacemakers attempted to impose a settlement with the Treaty of Rapallo. This put an end to Gabrielle D’Annunzio’s so called Italian Regency of Canaro and led to the creation of the Free State of Fiume, an autonomous entity. It would take several more years and yet another agreement – the Treaty of Rome – to put an end to the free state’s survival as Italian Fascism ensured that Fiume would become part of the Kingdom of Italy.

On the border – Susak (Yugoslavia) and Fiume (Italy) divided by The Dead Channel

A Temporary Settlement – The Free State of Fiume
The arrangement imposed upon Fiume/Rijeka was contentious. Italy and Yugoslavia were to share the city. This was a sort of precursor to the East Berlin/West Berlin where the border between the two ran through the city. The border was not a new one, rather it restored an older one known as the “Corpus separatum” which had been in existence prior to World War I. This division had been between a Hungarian administered section and one ruled by Croatians. The border used an existing natural feature. Known by the less than appealing name as “the dead channel”, it was a former channel of the Rijecine River. The river had been diverted upstream from the channel for flood control, thus it was dead. Unfortunately, “the dead channel” was alive with consternation when a new border between the Italian and Yugoslav (Croat) parts of Fiume/Rijeka was imposed upon it. A wall was also erected to better define the border between the two sides.

Fiume/Rijeka was supposed to be a relatively autonomous free city. Instead, it became a divided city with the urban core under Italian administration and the Susak district falling under Yugoslav rule. Separation and segregation led to many hard feelings. These exploded into violence during the Second World War. By then D’Annunzio’s 1919 occupation of the city was a distant memory. He had long since been trumped by Benito Mussolini, but the Italian foothold in Rijeka could not last any longer than fascism. The Yugoslavs would not tolerate Italian communities on land they now controlled. Rijeka became a Yugoslav city through and through. It would later become part of Croatia when Yugoslavia imploded. Today, Rijeka is the third largest city in Croatia with an economically vibrant port. The Italian claims on Fiume/Rijeka belong to another era. One, like the ethnic Italian population of the city, that no longer exists.

On the verge of change – Photo of Fiume prior to World War I (Credit: fortepan.hu)

Users & Losers – The Fate of Fiume
After Tito ascended to the helm of Yugoslav leadership there was only one place the Italians of Fiume could go and that was anywhere but home. Home was no longer Fiume. That city no longer existed, at least from a geopolitical standpoint. It is often said that the winner’s write history and they changed Fiume to Rijeka. This meant that ethnic Italians would have to return to a place many of them had never really been, the nation of Italy. While Fiume had been part of Italy from 1920 – 1944, it was never really part of Italy the way such cities as Rome, Florence or Naples were. It was on the periphery, an appendage that the fascists connected to Italy. The tether between Fiume and the Italian was always fragile. With Italy on its knees after World War II, there was nowhere for Fiume to go, but back to Yugoslavia.

For ethnic Italians who were either fleeing or forced to leave Fiume, going back to Italy could have been a safety valve. It was nothing of the sort. They were welcomed with anger by countrymen who considered them less Italian. The newcomers were competitors for scarce resources, namely jobs in an economy that was still in dire straits. This led to rioting. Nonetheless, for those Italians exiled from Fiume there was no going back. Tito’s Yugoslavia would never welcome back Italians. The only welcome they would have gotten was at a prison camp. Thus, they had no choice but stay in Italy. Fiume under Italian control had been a short lived thing, at least in an official sense. It had lasted little more than a generation. Of course, Italians had been the commercial class for much longer than that. The Republic of Venice and Austria-Hungary had always found them useful. And the Italians of Fiume allowed themselves to be used. It was in their best interest to do so until one day it was not. That day would not come until after Venice and Austria-Hungary has passed into history. Oddly enough, D’Annunzio, the prototypical nationalist Italian, had used those in Fiume for his personal rather than imperial interests. In the process he set them up ultimately for failure. And the Italians of Fiume were complicit in their own demise. World War II took care of the rest.

A Croatian port city – Rijeka at night (Credit: RijekaPhotos)

The Historian – You Can Never Leave Home
Fiume is no more, but its effect on Croatia and Italy has been lasting. Due to the failure of fascist Italy, Yugoslavia and later Croatia became the recipients of an excellent commercial port. The Yugoslavs and Croats needed the port much more than Italy ever did. It has served them well. As for Fiume’s Italian legacy, it is due to one of those unintended consequences that makes history so deliciously ironic. The man who reputedly gave the order that Benito Mussolini be killed at war’s end was Leo Valiani who was born in Fiume. Valiani’s ethnic background is representative of the tapestry of ethnicities that once called the city home. Valiani was the son of a Hungarian Jewish couple. He later became an Italian citizen.

An anti-fascist to the core, he received a five year sentence for his political activities. Up until the outbreak of World War II, Valiani had been a committed communist before becoming disenchanted with Stalin’s treatment of Poland. He eventually found his way into the Italian resistance where he became a leader. Valiani not only signed off on Mussolini’s death warrant, he also would become the primary author of Italy’s constitution. Perhaps as an outsider, the Fiume born, Jewish Valiani could objectively scrutinize and understand Italians better than most. He was certainly shaped by what had happened in his birthplace. Valiani’s life occupation was not as a politician, but as an historian. And Fiume is nothing, if not history.

Fences & Neighbors – Balkanization in Rijeka: The Italian-Yugoslav Experience (Part One)

Good fences make good neighbors or so it is said. The problem with that cliché is that it falls flat in the face of history, especially when it comes to the Balkans throughout the 19^th and 20th century where the borders were prone to change. In numerous cases, the neighbors had trouble getting along, in some places they still do. When relations between or within Balkan countries became irreconcilable the urge to fight a war was often overwhelming. Name a Balkan country and there was trouble with the neighbors. Just to name a few that were at odds: the Bulgars and Turks, the Bulgars and Greeks, the Greeks and Turks, the Slovenes and Croats, the Croats and Serbs, the Croats and Bosnians, the Bosnians and Serbs, the Serbs and Kosovars.

Problems with disputed borders and ethnic minorities have been the rule rather than the exception in the Balkans. The fences or geopolitical concoctions (Ottoman Empire, Austria-Hungary, and Yugoslavia) that kept the disputants apart were only temporary. Empires collapsed, borders shifted and ethnic groups took side. Sometimes the borders aligned with facts on the ground, sometimes not. Those outsiders who came into the Balkans found the place a powder keg, one that would eventually explode. Most famously, the Austrians first occupied then later annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina as the Ottoman Empire receded. When Austria-Hungary’s borders extended into the Balkans they became increasingly untenable.

The coveted port – Fiume/Rijeka in the late 19th century

From Fiume To Rijeka – A City By The Sea
The decision to annex Bosnia by Austria-Hungary was a fatal one that ended up leading to World War I and the end of an empire. Involvement by outside powers in the Balkans was a bad idea as much after World War I as before it. The Italian experience was less than successful and eventually turned disastrous. The Italians were in dispute with Yugoslavia over what they considered to be historically Italian cities, towns, and villages along the eastern Adriatic coast. The Italian-Yugoslav experience in Fiume (Italian)/Rijeka (Serbo-Croatian) has been lost to history. The Italians have vanished from a city where they were the ruling class at the beginning of the 20^th century. Rijeka is now a Croatian city through and through. The greater Rijeka area has 200,000 inhabitants, only 2,700 of which are ethnic Italians. In 1910, nine times that number of Italians called the city home. They outnumbered Croats by nearly two to one. During the interwar period, a border was drawn to separate the two sides. That border has been obliterated from maps. Borders in the Balkans have always been movable, even when a non-Balkan nation gets involved.

Today Rijeka is a bustling port city along Croatia’s coast. The third largest city in the country behind only Zagreb and Split in population. It has long been known more for commerce than tourism. This sets it apart from most other communities along the Dalmatian coast. Historically, most tourists came to Rijeka so they could leave it. The city was and still is a major stop along the ferry circuit. Some visitors are finding that Rijeka has a unique history worth exploring. In 2020 Rijeka was named a European Capital of Culture. This brought much needed recognition to a city that had one of the more complex geopolitical arrangements during the first half of the 20^th century. Rijeka might not have the cachet of a Split or Dubrovnik, but what it lacks in architectural aesthetics or tourist cachet, it more than makes up for with a wealth of history, especially during the 20^th century. A time when the city changed empires, rulers, and nations with alarming frequency. To get some idea of just how confusing Rijeka’s recent past can be, consider that it was part of Austria-Hungary, Italy and Yugoslavia, Yugoslavia and Croatia all in the span of a seventy-five years. During that time, it was also part of several strange geopolitical concoctions imposed upon it by dictatorial regimes that attempted to create the city they wanted rather than the one which already existed.

Postwar madness – Italians cheering D’Annunzio in 1920 after occupation of Fiume (Credit: Edward Alexander Powell)

A Matter of Pride – War For The Shore
The situation of Fiume/Rijeka after the dissolution of Austria-Hungary was complicated by postwar chaos. With its port and naval facilities, Rijeka was to important to ignore. This led to conflict and lasting consternation. On one side were Italian nationalists. Foremost among them was firebrand poet/militarist Gabrielle D’Annunzio who led a force that managed to occupy the city and set up a political entity known as the Italian Regency of Canaro. D’Annunzio whipped up Italian uber nationalists into a fury. During World War I certain promises had been made to Italy if they would join the allied side. These were part of what was known as the Treaty of London and included territorial inducements for Italy all along the Istrian and Dalmatian coasts. This included Rijeka. While prewar Rijeka had an Italian majority, it had little to offer postwar Italy. The city was small and unimportant for anything other than Italian national pride.

The Italians already had plenty of seaports. Having Fiume as a port would make little difference from an economic standpoint except that it would help facilitate trade further up the Adriatic at Trieste, a more important Italian port further to the north and on the edge of Yugoslavia. Italian politicians knew Fiume held little of value to their country. Unfortunately, D’Annunzio’s assertiveness meant that they could not cede it without a backlash from nationalists. Fiume was a symbol of Italian irredentist claims. Without it and other historically Italian influenced communities along the eastern Adriatic shoreline, Italian politicians would have trouble explaining that the sacrifices of World War I had been worth the hundreds of thousands of lives lost. Nonetheless, if Fiume became part of Italy it would be little more than a backwater. A place easy to forget and hard to defend.   

A Croatian city – Rijeka (Credit: Antonio199cro)

Control Freaks – Exploiting An Opportunity
On the other side was the newly formed nation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes (renamed Yugoslavia) struggling to maintain control over the city. The Croats had a much greater interest in the city. If they could get control of Rijeka, it would immediately become Yugoslavia’s main port. The city offered tantalizing economic prospects. Facilities had already been established under the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It had been the Hungarian portion of the empire’s main outlet to the sea. When the empire disintegrated the Hungarian’s exited the scene. Leaving Italy and Yugoslavia to stake their claims.  The port was waiting to be exploited by its next owner. 

Click here for: The Dead Channel – Balkanization In Rijeka: The Italian-Yugoslav Experience (Part Two)

A Special Bond – Captives & Captors: The Miss Stone Affair (Part Two)

While American missionary Ellen Stone was held hostage by the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Committee (IMRO), the IMRO was held hostage by time. When it came to the ransom demand everyone involved knew time was of the essence. Yane Sandanski and his motley crew fellow IMRO members could only hold out for so long while being pursued by Ottoman and Bulgarian forces, as well as a rival revolutionary group. Yet the affair went on for nearly six months with the situation swinging from one extreme to the other. At times, the affair bordered on tragicomedy, and at other times on dead seriousness. For what should have been a life and death, cloak and dagger affair, one of its more bizarre aspects was how the kidnappers adhered to a sense of Victorian values. For instance, instead of just taking Miss Stone captive, they also kidnapped Katerina Tsilka so they would have a younger female who would be able to assist the 55 year old woman. The problem was that Tsilka presented problems of her own. She was several months pregnant. The revolutionaries felt honor bound to ensure that Tsilka was able to give birth with minimal discomfort.

Home free – Ellen Stone, Katerina Tsilka and child

Chivalric Ideals – Prisoners of the Conscience
Giving birth on the Ottoman frontier, deep in Macedonia in the early 20^th century, would have been difficult under the best of circumstances. Doing it while being pursued by three different entities, several of which would have liked to see the kidnapper’s dead, made for an extremely fraught situation. Amazingly, Tsilka was able to give birth to a healthy child. The kidnappers were then given the additional burden of having to transport a newborn. Add to this the fact that Tsilka was also unable to walk for several days after the birth and it is a miracle that everyone made it through the affair unscathed. Oddly enough, the behavior of her captors and the time spent with them caused Miss Stone to grow sympathetic to their cause. Today, this phenomenon is better known as the Stockholm Syndrome.

As the hostages and revolutionaries spent month after month in clandestine safe houses, dodging the authorities and traveling through difficult terrain, a special bond between captives and captors formed. The chivalric behavior of the revolutionaries may have also endeared them to Miss Stone and Mrs. Tsilka. Nonetheless, payment of the ransom was their foremost goal. At times, Yane Sandanski and the men he was leading must have wondered what they had gotten themselves into. At first, Miss Stone sent letters that expressed fears from Tsilka and herself. As time went on, Miss Stone proved to be a demanding personality who stood up to her captors. She spent a great deal of time trying to convince the IMRO men who held her hostage, that they should convert to Protestantism. One of them would remark several years later, about the difficulty of dealing with her.

Cause celebre – Ellen Stone arrives back in the United States

Moral Support – The Pay Off
All the effort that had gone into the operation would be wasted if a ransom could not be procured. The insurgents demanded an exorbitant sum of 25,000 gold Turkish Lira. This was the equivalent of $110,000 American dollars. The missionary society did not want to pay such a princely sum for two reasons. First, they did not have that kind of money set aside for such a contingency. Secondly, paying the bribe would endanger other missionaries who might be kidnapped in the future whenever the IMRO needed money. The missionary society tried to turn the case over to the American government. President Theodore Roosevelt was soon involved. He decided not to pay the ransom. Instead, he suggested the missionaries raise the funds though public subscription. Pressure mounted in the press and from the public who became familiar with Miss Stone’s plight. The missionary organization was able to raise 15,000 gold Turkish Lira, still a substantial sum of money. Getting the money to Sandinski and his group of IMRO members turned out to be almost as difficult as raising the money.

The Ottomans provided the Americans who would pay the ransom, an escort of 250 soldiers. The soldiers were to watch every move in the hopes of thwarting the ransom payment. Ironically, the American missionaries’ leader who was working to get the ransom to the insurgents, Dr. John House, had been the initial intended kidnapping target of the IMRO. Dr. House had also begun to sympathize with the IMRO and resorted to fooling the Ottomans. He was able to get the money to Protestants in Bansko who then delivered it to the insurgents. The Ottoman soldiers who had watched Dr. House closely had no idea this was being done. The payment was made, but it would still be several weeks before Miss Stone, Tsilka and her baby would be released. After half a year of wandering all over the Pirin Mountains, the captives were finally set loose several hours before dawn in Strumica. The hostages were unharmed. The incident had a profound effect on Miss Stone, who would later vociferously support the IMRO’s goals.

The Fight Goes On – Yane Sandanski in the Bulgarian Army

Missionaries & Martyrs – The Fight Goes On
The ransom money was turned over by Sandanski to the top leadership of the IMRO. Much of it went for guns and ammunition that was used during the Ilinden Uprising in 1903. This revolt was organized by the IMRO and failed. It did put more pressure on the Ottoman authorities. The IMRO was a force to be reckoned with. It not only fought the Ottomans, but also Bulgarian leadership that wanted to subsume Macedonia within a Greater Bulgaria. The IMRO also fought among themselves. Their clandestine war continued for two more decades. Sandanski did not last that long. He died in 1915, from wounds incurred in an attack against him.

As for Miss Stone, she went back stateside to live out her life. She had been a key player in one of the great historical dramas of the early 20^th century. She never made the news again. Miss Stone lived out her life in obscurity. She was a missionary that almost became a martyr. She had made history without trying, the IMRO was not so successful. They continued to fight for what eventually would be a lost cause. Independence for Macedonia was a long way off. It would not materialize until after the collapse of Yugoslavia. As for the Americans, they had seen firsthand that their growing international prestige would make citizens a target in the future. The Miss Stone Affair was a wakeup call for Americans and American interests overseas. The threat of being taken hostage has never gone away. It probably never will.

A Missionary & Macedonia – Taking Hostages: The Miss Stone Affair (Part One)

Historically, Bulgaria and the United States have had little in common. Consider the following:

• Bulgaria regained its independence a hundred years after the United States, but the First Bulgarian Empire began eleven hundred years before the United States became a nation.
• The Bulgars’ historical enemy was the Ottoman Empire, a crumbling polity when the United States became a world power. While part of the United States was a slave holding nation until 1865, the Bulgarians were held in servitude by what they refer to as “the five hundred years of slavery” when they were under the Ottoman Turkish yoke from 1396 – 1878.
• The United States and Bulgaria fought in both the First and Second World Wars on opposite sides, but the fronts on which their soldiers fought were hundreds of miles apart.
• During the Cold War, they were also on opposite sides. The Bulgars were among the staunchest allies of the Soviet Union. This was due both to communism and the fact that the Bulgars have been Russophiles ever since the Russo-Turkish War (1877-1878) when the Russian defeat of the Ottoman Empire gave the Bulgars their independence. The United States has largely been Russophobic and that trend continues right up through today.
  
  Considering all the above, it is surprising to discover that the United States has one of the largest Bulgarian populations of any country in the world. Estimates show that as many as 250,000 Bulgarians currently reside in America. I also discovered another surprising linkage between the two countries. The first modern hostage crisis that the United States dealt with overseas involved an American missionary kidnapped by ethnic Bulgars in the Ottoman Empire. The incident was more than just an obscure story, it made headlines across the United States. It also revealed that hostage situations sometimes take on a life of their own.

Taken hostage – Ellen Stone – American Missionary (Credit: Wikimedia Commons)

Missionary Zeal – Bulgars, Ottomans & Macedonia
At the turn of the 20^th century, the United States was just beginning to flex its military and diplomatic muscle on the world stage. Americans were spreading out across the world bringing their ideas and ideologies to places that few back home even knew existed. One of these was Bulgaria, where American missionaries began as far back as the 1850’s to convert Bulgarians to Protestantism. These efforts were successful enough that they were assimilated under the Union of Evangelical Churches in Bulgaria by the 1870’s. They were able to make many converts by using vernacular Bulgarian in services and having the Bible translated into the same language. To get some idea of their success, consider that today, Protestantism is the third largest religion in Bulgaria behind Orthodox Christianity and Islam.

The Protestant missionaries gained some prestige among the locals for the assistance they offered, both spiritual and developmental. Over time, their presence became increasingly noticeable in the southeastern Balkans. This brought them to the attention of the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization (IMRO), a group formed in 1893 that was using every means possible to make Macedonia part of Bulgaria. Originally the area had been included in the Treaty of San Stefano in 1878. The great powers had other ideas. The borders were changed under the Treaty of Berlin that same year and Macedonia was placed back under Ottoman rule. The Bulgarians developed a homegrown movement to push for adjustments that would put the region back in Bulgaria. In the region, the homegrown IMRO movement worked for an independent Macedonian state. The upshot of all these maneuverings was insurgent campaigns marked by political violence and low intensity warfare.

Ready for war – Yane Sandanski (middle) with IMRO members

Mission Impossible – Keeping The Faith
The IMRO fought almost as much with their own side as they did the Ottomans. The intrigues and backstabbing were hallmarks of the Balkans at the turn of the 20^th century. Funding the IMRO’s efforts was a particular concern. To keep the fight going, they needed money to purchase weapons and ammunition. One of the IMRO’s branches in the town of Bansko hit upon the idea of kidnapping an American missionary who worked and lived there. They would then demand a large ransom to free their hostage. It could also possibly result in the American government putting pressure on the Ottoman Empire to relinquish Macedonia. The top IMRO leadership was not that enthralled with the idea, but they eventually decided to support it. Not long after the idea was first suggested, the Bansko IMRO branch led by Yane Sandanski was able to put their plan into action. This led to what has become known as the Miss Stone Affair.

The first American targeted for kidnapping was Dr. John House, who oversaw the missionaries from the Ottoman port city of Thessaloniki. When the IMRO went to scout out Dr. House’s location in preparation for the kidnapping, they became aware of another missionary who did work in Bansko, Ellen Stone. Miss Stone had spent nearly 20 years doing missionary work in Bulgaria. She could speak fluent Bulgarian and frequently traveled throughout the region. The insurgents set out to capture Miss Stone while she was traveling through the Predela Pass. On September 3, 1901, Miss Stone was captured along with a group of Protestants. The insurgents would end up releasing everyone except Miss Stone and a woman by the name of Katerina Tsilka who was to “chaperone” the older missionary. It would turn out that Tsilka was pregnant, further complicating the operation.

On the march – IMRO insurgents in the mountains (Credit: Historical Museum – Dupnitsa)

Ladies First – A Sense of Honor
Kidnappers and terrorists throughout history have a reputation for being violent, the IMRO was no different. For their members, the ends justified the means. Strangely enough, this was not the case with the IMRO during the Miss Stone Affair. The leadership led by Sandanski showed Miss Stone and Mrs. Tsilka the utmost respect. When some of the insurgents suggested killing the women to keep from getting caught, Sandanski not only said no to this idea, but upbraided the men for even suggesting it. Murdering the hostages would be self-defeating. All the IMRO really wanted was money. There was a big problem though, who could they get to pay a ransom. Raising the money ended up falling to the missionary organization. Donations were solicited from across the United States. While the fundraising campaign was successful, getting the ransom to the IMRO would be much more difficult. Only then could Miss Stone and Tsilka be freed.

Click here for: A Special Bond – Captives & Captors: The Miss Stone Affair (Part Two)

Once In A Lifetime – Yugoslavia’s Moment of Glory in Sarajevo (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #64c)

The host nation of the 1984 Sarajevo Winter Olympics no longer exists, nor is it likely ever to again. Yugoslavia was a South Slavic geopolitical experiment that most of the western Balkan nations which formed from its breakup would rather forget about. It is hard to imagine now after the deadly Yugoslav Wars of the 1990’s, but there were moments when Bosnians, Croats, Kosovars, Macedonians, Montenegrins, Serbs, and Slovenians felt a sense of national solidarity. Much of this was enforced by the unclenched fist of Josip Broz Tito, one of the very few communist dictators who governed sensibly.

Compared to the Ceausescus, Hoxhas, and Stalins of the communist world, Tito’s iron hand had a lighter touch. Tito used a combination of incentives and draconian measures to keep Yugoslavia unified. That troubled nation would not survive his death by very long. The time period between Tito’s death in 1980 and the beginning of its dissolution in 1991, is often viewed as a prelude to disaster. Yet there were moments when the inhabitants of Yugoslavia still felt a sense of national pride. One such moment occurred when Jure Franko won Yugoslavia’s first medal in a Winter Olympics.

On a mission – Jure Franko at the 1984 Winter Olympics in Sarajevo

Olympian Feats – Going For Gold
For an American, it is difficult to understand how much importance the rest of the world ascribes to the Olympics. The world’s premier international sporting event is not that big of a deal in the United States. In the rest of the world, the Olympics are huge. While the Olympics can inspire fervent patriotism in America for a couple of weeks, in Europe they inspire entire nations both during the competition and long after it has concluded. An Olympic medal can make someone a legend for life in Europe. The smaller the country, the greater the effect. For Europeans, only the World Cup can match the stature of the Olympics. There is a big difference though. With the odd exception of the recent Croatian teams, the World Cup is dominated by the largest nations in Europe. France, Germany, Italy, and Spain consistently contend for the Palme d’Or. Smaller nations only hope to make it into the knockout round.

The Olympics are the best bet for small and mid-size European countries to achieve glory in athletics. This is particularly true for national teams from Eastern European countries. Their citizens are keenly aware that the Olympics offer their athletes hundreds of opportunities in a wide range of sports that much of the world hardly even notices. I have seen it in the eyes of Eastern Europeans and heard it in their words. A single medal is enough to drive a small nation that would otherwise be insignificant on the international sporting scene to madness. I can still recall seeing a Slovenian friend swell with pride when she talked about how one of her countrymen won a medal in an obscure sport. I envied her zealotry. It was a point of pride that had her beaming with delight.

Alpine run – Mt. Bjelašnica was the venue for skiing events at Sarajevo (Credit: Xe0us)

Asserting Identity – Another Form of Nationalism
Archery, canoeing, kayaking, rowing, shooting, these are the kind of sports which fly under the radar until they become of intense interest for a few nations during the Olympics. Every country has their affinity for a sport that their athletes can dominate. I often wonder how these countries come to be the best in a specific event. Take for instance, Hungary in men’s water polo. For decades, the Hungarian team has been one of the most dominating nations in the sport. Anything less than a medal is considered a failure. Other countries excel in winter sports due to their climate and the world-class sports facilities they construct to take advantage of it.

It is not hard to see why winning Olympic medals sends Eastern European countries into a frenzy. For almost fifty years they were in the Soviet Union’s sphere of influence. The Olympics gave them a chance to stand out, as much against the Soviets as against the western world. Athletics was a form of nationalism. While Hungarians or Czechs might not be able to beat the Soviets on the battlefield, they could assert their superiority in the athletic arena. What for most other nations would be minor victories, were cause for celebration in smaller Eastern Bloc countries. On the surface, these sporting triumphs were made to look like a triumph of the communist system, but the more subtle message was the assertion of national identity.

By the 1984 Winter Olympics in Sarajevo, Yugoslavia had been a leader of the non-aligned movement (nations favoring neither the Soviets nor the Americans) for several decades. They remained aloof from the superpower struggle while still eager to assert themselves on the world stage. Hosting the Olympics in Sarajevo was a perfect platform to boost Yugoslavia’s prestige. Socialist nations had long been known for state support of athletics. This had paid dividends for Yugoslavia in the Summer Olympics where their athletes had won 53 medals, but they had never medaled in the Winter Olympics. To not do so as a host nation would have been a dubious first in Olympic history. All Yugoslavia needed was one medal, getting that would not be easy. Fortunately, Jure Franko rose to the occasion.

Olympic glory – Jure Franko in Sarajevo

Winner’s Circle – Once In A Lifetime
A Slovenian whose specialty was the Giant Slalom, Franko had finished the previous year in the world’s top 10 rankings. To win a medal, Franko would still have to overcome long odds. He was not considered to be among the top three in the world. After his first run, Franko was in fourth place. He would need a better second run under immense pressure if he hoped to contend for a medal. Franko did just that as he pulled off a spectacular performance by bettering his first run time by nearly a second. His effort was the fastest single run in the competition. It was good enough to move Franko into second place for the silver medal.

Franko’s career defining performance was met with a roar by the home crowd. When it became clear that Franko had won a medal, he instantly became a national hero. Yugoslavia had now won a medal at the Winter Olympics. Even today, Franko is still famous throughout the region. He has been given the status of honorary citizen of Sarajevo. Franko’s Olympic exploits would be one of the last times that the citizens of Yugoslavia would be united. The same could be said for Sarajevo.

Click here for: Cover Story – The Wrong Connection In Bojnice (Rendezvous With An Obscure Destiny #65)