The Myth-Makers’ Night

Written by Jelena Šušanj

Last night, as the most important Montenegrin prize was awarded to those who deny Montenegrin identity, statehood, and the country’s antifascist tradition, Andrija Mandić declared: “Your works, your dedication, your achievements symbolize what July 13th should mean in the 21st century”.

This is not the first time Mandić has laid out his strategy so plainly and succinctly. The nonexistent work and staged success of Bećir Vuković, the forged book, and the falsified CIP all reflect Mandić’s version of July 13th. None of it has anything to do with the historical Montenegrin July 13th, and Mandić knows this well. That’s why he insists on what that date “should be” in his revisionist view. Just as his ideological revisionism tries to equate partisans with Chetniks – truth with lies, love of freedom with hatred of difference – in the same spirit the far right, led by Mandić, seeks to strip July 13th of its light of revolution, progress, and the fight for dignity, cloaking it instead in darkness – lies and falsehoods about a meaningless equality of good and evil.

At the award ceremony, Mandić said the prize went to “poet Bećir Vuković, for his work House of the Homeless, which delves into the depths of the human soul and reflects our reality in a manner worthy of the greatest names in Serbian literature”. Just before he said this, in the courtyard where kitsch, greed, and insatiability were on full display that night, Montenegrin police probed the depths of human souls with pepper spray, painting a reality unworthy of a human being. Every unspoken word of Bećir’s was fiercely sprayed from canisters at those defending Montenegrin dignity, while Bećir, hidden behind police and military forces, stood on stage in front of a blue backdrop proving that lies are the true Serbian national pride and interest.

In keeping with the chosen theme of myth-making, that night’s participants also tried to link July 13th with Sava Nemanjić, the Nevesinje rifle, and fake hats worn over traditional folk costumes… It was a show for those with cheaper tickets, a theatrical farce for anyone who believes shiny polyester can be turned into mulberry silk. It was a night of gluttony, where myths and deceptions were served by the shovel-full. It was a night we will all remember.

But your efforts are in vain. Because while you invent books, we write history.

Until next time.