The 21st of May

The eruption of excitement in Budva over the appearance of the national flag and the red lighting of the Municipality building just won’t die down. Yes, it’s encouraging to see the Montenegrin flag publicly displayed in Budva, but it also says a lot about the historical moment we’re living through, when we’re ecstatic that one Montenegrin town is celebrating Montenegro’s Independence Day. What a disgrace. What an unnatural obscenity!

Written by: Đorđe Šćepović

This could’ve easily been the shortest column ever. Shorter even than that one by Slavko Mandić, dedicated to the much-lauded Goat-Oppressor, owner of a certain tabloid. The whole thing could’ve just read: I agree with Darko Šuković. I agree with what he wrote in his piece, Forced Festivity. I wouldn’t change a word. But, since I started writing this text about Independence Day back on May 21st, forgive me, it seems like a shame to let it go to waste.

Besides, it seems both of us look at the Independence Day celebrations through the same heretical lens. And, naturally, we’re both being handsomely paid to tarnish the idyllic image of Montenegrin reality. Because, let’s face it, there’s no better business than criticizing the ruling regime, without falling into a trance or wearing your palms out, applauding like a maniac.

And of course, it’s heresy to celebrate your own country’s independence. Just as it’s heresy to wonder why some people don’t. When it comes to the collective holiday spirit, we’re nearly identical in disbelief.

Still, to keep the plagiarism software from blushing in shame, like it did back in 2018 when it chewed through Aleksa Bečić’s master’s thesis, cobbled together in the finest "Resava School" tradition from texts by Mica Kozlik and others, let’s try saying the same thing a bit differently. Let’s talk about the same phenomenon. The same absurdity of Montenegro. Let’s unpack May 21st. Celebration or mourning?

Because yes, for some, May 21st is a celebration. For others, it’s been a day of mourning since 2006. And it’s not just me who thinks that on May 21st, quite a few people would gladly burst into grief, lament loudly, and beat their eternally wounded chests.

So how do you even talk about the celebration of May 21st, and the regime’s attitude toward one of the most important dates in Montenegro’s history, without sounding vulgar, uncouth, ignorant, or, to put it simply, without sounding like Dario Vraneš?

You know how Vraneš marked May 21st? In keeping with the proud tradition of his indecency.

Thus, for most citizens of Montenegro, the biggest reason to celebrate May 21st, Montenegro’s Independence Day, is the fact that, by law, they get two days off work.
The official, protocol-driven, sterile and hollow, pragmatic, and calculating congratulatory messages from the Prime Minister and other high-ranking state officials, sorry, leaders, once again confirm their supposed devotion to the country they unfortunately govern. Institutions also offered congratulations, for form’s sake, or didn’t bother at all.

The eruption of excitement in Budva over the appearance of the national flag and the red lighting of the Municipality building just won’t die down. Yes, it’s encouraging to see the Montenegrin flag publicly displayed in Budva, but it also says a lot about the historical moment we’re living through, when we’re ecstatic that one Montenegrin town is celebrating Montenegro’s Independence Day. What a disgrace. What an unnatural obscenity.

The Democrats, that toxic offshoot of the SNP, itself a byproduct of the DPS, are now weeping over independent Montenegro. Nineteen years after independence was restored. But considering that the Democrats stem from the party that led the charge against independence, no one should be surprised by the tearful, sentimental little essays from Boris Bogdanović, mourning the former union of states.

And if we remind ourselves that for five years now, Montenegro has been ruled by a regime that doesn’t even recognize the country it governs, its flag, anthem, coat of arms, language, or church, then it’s no shock that a doctor, a councilwoman from Berane representing PES, marked Independence Day in a very PES-style “Christian”, “civic”, and “well-meaning” way, by openly wishing for bloodshed. Naturally, after the public backlash, she "clarified" her statement, "Blood was shed", and, as always, accused others of taking her words out of context!

But in those two little words, she supposedly encapsulated all of Montenegro’s glorious warrior past, meaning to say that independent Montenegro was born from the blood of our ancestors. It was, apparently, a masterful haiku, a poetic reflection on Montenegrin history. Alas, the wicked and the ignorant, she says, misunderstood her heartfelt nod to our noble tradition and twisted it to sow hatred!

Ah, déjà vu! Once again, messages of love are being "misinterpreted" as seeds of hate. Because saying "blood was shed" surely doesn’t mean “may those who celebrate shed blood”, but rather an invitation to rejoice, raise a toast, enjoy a feast, dance a kolo, and take pride in our heroic, but bloody, history!

That, dear reader, is today’s civic-minded PES, the party supposedly leading us toward Europe. And so, how can one not wonder: who is celebrating, and who is mourning? Who's staining their cheeks with tears? Shouldn't all of us who live in this country be celebrating Montenegro's Independence Day?

Montenegro isn't any more mine than it is, say, Andrija Mandić’s. But sadly, reality keeps proving me wrong. Because Montenegro is more mine, because it isn’t his. Andrija has another homeland. A motherland. Serbia. Or so he says. He also has a leader, a master: Aleksandar Vučić.

Thankfully, Andrija Mandić and the other contract-based Serbs aren’t representative of all Serbs in Montenegro. Many refuse to bow their heads or kneel, even before Vučić’s loyal servants. You may not hear or see them in public, but they’re out there. Very much so. Remember the shameful pilgrimage a few Montenegrin mayors made to that bizarre figure, Milica Zavetnica? That day, many Serbs in Montenegro felt humiliated.

And aside from humiliation, there was also fear of the late Amfilohije Radović. And of his curses from beyond the grave. Yes, he had a gift for cursing like no one else. And, they say, such a gift doesn’t fade with death and ascension, it only grows stronger on the other side. As you may recall, during his lifetime, Amfilohije made this land into the "Serbian Olympus", the "Serbian Sparta", the "cradle of Serbdom", the "salt of Serbdom", a bastion of "elite, original Serbdom". And then, suddenly, it all vanished, and bowing before the masters in Belgrade became the new normal.

Serbs in Montenegro are at home on their land, just like Montenegrins, Croats, Bosniaks, and Albanians. But they need to come to that realization themselves. Only then will the resentment toward the day Montenegro regained its independence begin to fade. When they choose to reclaim their lost dignity, and when Montenegro becomes their only homeland, all efforts by those on Belgrade’s payroll, working for decades to turn Montenegro into a colony of Aleksandar Vučić, will be in vain.

That’s when the fairy tales about persecution and suffering will finally come to an end, tales spun by illusionists whose property records are thicker than the police files on their bodyguards and close relatives. And when the day comes that a Serbian politician emerges who isn’t on a short leash held by Vučić or anyone outside Montenegro, then all the vultures who’ve spent years fishing for lost souls will end up where they belong, on history’s trash heap.

And when that happens, and I believe it inevitably will, May 21st will be a day of celebration for everyone who sees Montenegro not just as an address or a place of residence, but as home. There is absolutely nothing anti-Serb in my wish for those who grovel at the feet of Belgrade’s strongman to become part of our distant past. On the contrary.

After all, those people aren’t even truly Serbs; it’s just their chosen profession. As Dritan Abazović once said, back when he was still a politician and not a YouTube influencer, the same man who in 2020 brought chauvinism to power and did everything he could to erase Montenegro: “We cannot glorify those whom history has marked as criminals. I don’t think we should be hostages of those who deny Montenegro’s statehood…”

I have to admit, that’s the best joke Abazović has ever told. It’s like hearing Sasha Grey, the adult film icon, say that kissing in a public park is inappropriate. Honestly, even that would be less hypocritical.