A Letter to Comrade Blažo Jovanović

These sweltering July days have stirred thoughts of you, Comrade Blažo Jovanović.

I was reminded of the hundreds.. no, no, thousands of letters I’ve read: the ones you sent between 1941 and 1945, and those that arrived at your official address from the people of Montenegro between 1945 and 1963. It was those very letters that moved me to write to you now. Who knows – maybe these words will find their way to you.

So, let me begin the same way the people of Montenegro once did.

Comrade Blažo,

Something happened on July 8th, 2025, in that villa on Gorica Hill – once known among the people as “Blažo’s Villa.” On that day, July 8th, 1941 was attacked, harshly criticized, and insulted. That same day when the Provincial Committee of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia for Montenegro, Boka, and Sandžak met in Stijena of Piperi and made the decision to launch the historic July 13th Uprising. You – the heroes, revolutionaries, communist leaders, patriots – were branded “freedom-loving atheists”.

No, Comrade Blažo, this isn’t ignorance we’re dealing with. On the contrary – it’s a kind of “new knowledge,” rushed and rehearsed, letter by letter. Some call it historical revisionism. Maybe that’s the right term. But to me, it sounds too mild, too vague. You know when someone says, “You’re bending the truth”? When, what should be said – loud and clear, in our Montenegrin way – is: “You’re lying through your teeth, lying every time you open your mouth.” That says it all – plain, vivid, and with no room for confusion or revision.

I won’t go into the details of this year’s July 13th celebration. No, it wasn’t held at the Villa. This time, it was commemorated on Gorica Hill, in front of the Monument to the Fallen Fighters. And speaking of that monument, I couldn’t help but recall the letters about the preparations for transferring the remains of National Hero Rifat Burdžović Tršo, who was brought to Gorica to rest forever alongside his fellow heroes. May they be remembered with glory!

And there’s something else I must tell you – because I know it would warm your heart. As people made their way to the monument this July 13th, the powerful echo of an old Partisan song rang out through Gorica: “Oh, comrade girl, knit me some gloves…” A beautiful tenor voice, belonging to an older man, rose above the rest. It must be that way when a voice comes straight from the heart.

That’s all for now, Comrade Blažo. And before I forget, one thing still holds:

Death to fascism – freedom to the people!