Making Yugoslavs: Identity in King Aleksandar's Yugoslavia 1442627506, 9781442627505

Table of contents :
Contents
List of Figures and Tables
Preface
Map
Introduction
PART ONE. The Collapse of Constitutional Monarchy in Yugoslavia
1. National Ideology and the Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes
2. “A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”: The 1920s in the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes
PART TWO. The Advent of the Alexandrine Dictatorship
3. Cutting the Gordian Knot: The Dictatorship’s First Year
PART THREE. Making Yugoslavs out of “Tribalists”
4. National Workers of Yugoslavia, Unite! Moulding Yugoslavs, January 1930–September 1931
5. Policing Yugoslavism: Surveillance, Denunciations, and Ideology in Daily Life
PART FOUR The Assassination of Aleksandar and the Strange Afterlife of His Dictatorship
6. The Return of “Democracy”: September 1931–October 1934
Epilogue and Conclusion: “Preserve My Yugoslavia,” October 1934–May 1935
Notes
Sources and Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

MAKING YUGOSLAVS Identity in King Aleksandar’s Yugoslavia

When Yugoslavia was created in 1918, the new state was a patchwork of Serbs, Croats, Slovenes, and other ethnic groups. It still was in January 1929, when King Aleksandar suspended the Yugoslav constitution and began an ambitious program to impose a new Yugoslav national identity on his subjects. By the time Aleksandar was killed by an assassin’s bullet five years later, he had failed to create a unified Yugoslav nation – indeed, his dictatorship had contributed to an increase in interethnic tensions. In Making Yugoslavs, Christian Axboe Nielsen uses extensive archival research to explain the failure of the dictatorship’s program of forced nationalization. Focusing on how ordinary Yugoslavs responded to Aleksandar’s nationalization project, the book illuminates an oftenignored era of Yugoslav history whose lessons remain relevant not just for the study of Balkan history but for the leaders of many multiethnic societies today. christian axboe nielsen is an associate professor in the Department of Culture and Society at Aarhus University.

Figure 1. Portrait of King Aleksandar I, from Stanoje Stanojević, Naši vladari (Beograd: Narodno delo, 1927).

Making Yugoslavs Identity in King Aleksandar’s Yugoslavia

CHRISTIAN AXBOE NIELSEN

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO PRESS Toronto Buffalo London

© University of Toronto Press 2014   Toronto Buffalo London  www.utppublishing.com   Printed in the U.S.A. ISBN 978-1-4426-4780-0 (cloth) ISBN 978-1-4426-2750-5 (paper)

Printed on acid-free, 100% post-consumer recycled paper with vegetable-based inks. ___________________________________________________________________ Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Nielsen, Christian Axboe, 1973–, author Making Yugoslavs : identity in King Aleksandar’s Yugoslavia / Christian Axboe Nielsen. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4426-4780-0 (bound). – ISBN 978-1-4426-2750-5 (pbk.) 1.  Aleksandar I, King of Yugoslavia, 1888–1934.  2.  Nationalism – Yugoslavia – History – 20th century.  3.  Yugoslavia – Ethnic relations – History – 20th century.  4.  Yugoslavia – History – 1918–1945.  I.  Title. DR1296.N53 2014  949.702'1  C2014-903667-1 ___________________________________________________________________

University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial assistance to its publishing program of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council, an agency of the Government of Ontario.

University of Toronto Press acknowledges the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund for its publishing activities.

Contents

List of Figures and Tables  vii Preface  ix Map of Yugoslavia between the Wars  xii Introduction 3 Part One: The Collapse of Constitutional Monarchy in Yugoslavia 1 National Ideology and the Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  15 2 “A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”: The 1920s in the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  41 Part Two: The Advent of the Alexandrine Dictatorship 3 Cutting the Gordian Knot: The Dictatorship’s First Year  77 Part Three: Making Yugoslavs out of “Tribalists” 4 Nationalist Workers of Yugoslavia, Unite! Moulding Yugoslavs, January 1930–September 1931  137 5 Policing Yugoslavism: Surveillance, Denunciations, and Ideology in Daily Life  167

vi Contents

Part Four: The Assassination of Aleksandar and the Strange Afterlife of His Dictatorship 6 The Return of “Democracy”: September 1931–October 1934  207  pilogue and Conclusion. “Preserve My Yugoslavia”: E October 1934–May 1935  239 Notes  253 Sources and Bibliography  353 Index  367

List of Figures and Tables

Figures 3.1 Religious Demographics of the Banovinas 107 5.1 Percentage of Literacy by Banovina in the Population over Ten Years of Age  178 Tables  I .1 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4

Yugoslavia’s National Structure in 1918  9 Ministers in the Sixth of January Government  81 Banovinas 103 Bans 103 Major Contested Dates in Yugoslavia during the Royal Dictatorship 122

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Preface

This book project grew out of my frustration with the absence of a detailed treatment of King Aleksandar’s dictatorship in the otherwise considerable historiography of Yugoslavia. How could it be that the singular attempt to create a unitary Yugoslav identity from above had received such short shrift from so many otherwise impeccably thorough scholars? Their tendency to write off the dictatorship as a stillborn experiment or to skip over it entirely acted as a salutary irritant. My curiosity about this regime pushed me towards the archives and helped me craft what I hope is a considered and nuanced account of a crucial period in Yugoslav history. This book has had a long gestation. For many years after I began the research, it was on the shelf while I worked outside academia in the field of international criminal justice. The return to the academic world and to this topic has not been without challenges; nevertheless, I believe the book has, in the end, profited from the distance afforded by my long professional detour. For this, in large part, I thank Patrick J. Treanor, the head of the Leadership Research Team of the UN International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, who taught me so much about intellectual rigour and exactitude, in both my research and my writing. On the road to publication, I have incurred many debts. I am grateful to everyone who made the research for this book possible and who pushed for its publication. I thank the International Research and Exchanges Board (IREX), the American Council for Learned Societies (ACLS), and the Social Science Research Council (SSRC) for the generous grants that made the archival research and the first draft of this book possible. I gratefully acknowledge that a version of chapter 5 was previously published in East European Politics & Societies.

x Preface

Although I cannot possibly list all of the many colleagues who have helped me during the research and writing, I would like to thank here my academic mentors, Professors Mark von Hagen, Ivo Banac, Bradley Abrams, Karen Barkey, and Volker Berghahn. Mark Biondich has for many years been generous with his time, and his comments and criticisms have always improved my writing. At Aarhus University, Peter Bugge has been an invigorating sparring partner on drafts of several chapters. I would also like to thank the anonymous reviewers whose comments helped me revise and improve the book. In the former Yugoslavia, I received much assistance from many friends and colleagues. To my great sadness, Olga Popovi�-Obradovi�, who was such an inspiration, did not live to see the publication of this book. I remain grateful to her and her husband, Ivan Obradovi�, for their warm friendship and advice. I also learned much from long and delightful discussions with Latinka Perovi�. Branislav Gligorijevi� graciously allowed me to read long excerpts from the unpublished second and third volumes of his biography of King Aleksandar, and he indulged my many pointed and often argumentative questions. The staff at the Archive of Yugoslavia made every day of research a pleasure. In particular, I look back with fondness and thanks to the reading room and library personnel, and also to Miladin Miloševi�, Dragoš Petrovi�, and Saša Ili�. For wide-ranging conversations, help with translations, and enlightened advice on a variety of topics, I thank Dušan Ðorđevi� Mileusni�, Obrad Savi�, Maja Miljkovi�, and Jovo Baki�. In addition, in Belgrade I would like to thank Professor Ljubodrag Dimi� and Dragan Vuki�evi�. The staff of the reference room at the National Library in Belgrade nourished me with a steady stream of period newspapers and journals. In Bosnia-Herzegovina, I received valuable assistance from Mina Kujovi� and the absolutely wonderful staff at the Archive of BosniaHerzegovina. They made it possible for me to accomplish a very large amount of research in a very brief time. I would also like to thank Ša�ir Filandra and Mustafa Imamovi�. In Slovenia, I would like to thank the staff of the Archive of the Republic of Slovenia, as well as Jurij Perovšek and Tomaž Pavlin. In Croatia, the staff of the National and University Library made it possible to conduct a broad survey of the Yugoslav press of the interwar period. At the Croatian State Archives, Mirjana Hurem and Miljenko Pandži� provided friendly assistance and directed my attention to invaluable materials that I might otherwise have neglected. The

Preface xi

staff of the reading room, in particular Dorotea Smešnjak, ensured that my months in Zagreb would be an unforgettable and life-changing experience. I gratefully acknowledge the generous financial support provided for this publication by the Aarhus University Research Foundation. Finally, at the University of Toronto Press, I extend my heartfelt thanks to Richard Ratzlaff, who has promptly and efficiently pushed this book towards publication. I would also like to thank the managing editor, Leah Connor.

Map

Map. Yugoslavia between the wars. From Paul Robert Magocsi, Historical Atlas of Central Europe (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), p. 153. Used with permission.

MAKING YUGOSLAVS

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Introduction

Why did the South Slavic peoples of Yugoslavia fail to assimilate into one Yugoslav identity? More than any other question, this deceptively simple query lies at the heart of the failure of the Yugoslav state. As even a casual visit to a decent library will confirm, the shelves buckle under the weight of the hundreds of volumes that have been written about the collapse of Yugoslavia by historians, anthropologists, and social scientists.1 The explanations for the violent collapse of Yugoslavia are diverse, but all of these works at some level deal with the question of Yugoslav identity. While most of these accounts focus on the multiple malaises of socialist Yugoslavia, a considerable number also look back to the carnage of the Second World War, or even further back to the Kingdom of Yugoslavia and beyond.2 This book proceeds from the premise that to locate the most concerted attempt to create a single Yugoslav identity out of the country’s motley ethnic tapestry, we must turn to the late 1920s and early 1930s. It was during this period that King Aleksandar of Yugoslavia, the arch-nemesis of the young Tito and his fellow Communists, launched a vastly ambitious scheme to rid the country of bickering particularistic identities so as to make way for a single modern, unitary Yugoslav identity. In Aleksandar’s grand vision, one glorious Yugoslav identity would rule supreme in his kingdom, from the mountain valleys of Slovenia in the northwest to the impoverished and isolated villages of Kosovo and Macedonia in the southeast. Between 6 January 1929, when he proclaimed his new regime, and 9 October 1934, when he was assassinated, King Aleksandar tried systematically to indoctrinate the population into rejecting their previous identities in favour of a new and ostensibly modern Yugoslav national

4  Making Yugoslavs

identity. No village or individual could escape this massive campaign, which entailed hundreds of new laws, a redistricting of the country, and the dissolution of what the regime termed “tribal” cultural and political organizations. The unwieldy birth name of the country, the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, was discarded in favour of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Aleksandar’s regime also strove to change identities by transforming the very geographic space of Yugoslavia through the establishment of nine banovinas, or provinces, in place of old historical entities such as Croatia, Slovenia, Serbia, and Bosnia-Herzegovina. This was meant to ensure that Yugoslav citizens would no longer be bound by ancient provincial ties. As the new regime deployed its administrative and security apparatus in the banovinas, citizens encountered the state in a more pervasive way than ever before in the Balkans. Although the regime wrapped its decrees in a progressive cloak and attempted to eliminate interethnic distrust and hatred, the approach it took resulted in a near-universal shift towards political extremes among all the peoples of Yugoslavia. This prepared the ground for the fascist and communist movements that took the stage after the Axis powers invaded Yugoslavia in April 1941. This book charts the evolution of the ideology of state Yugoslavism from the proclamation of the dictatorship of King Aleksandar on 6 January 1929, until May 1935, when the first multiparty elections since 1927 were held.3 I argue that King Aleksandar’s regime ultimately failed to create a unified Yugoslav nation and that its actions helped increase interethnic tensions. The astonishing levels of interethnic violence perpetrated in Yugoslavia during the Second World War – which was, in the Yugoslav case, at least as much a civil war as an interstate one – are incomprehensible without knowledge of the radicalization that took place in Yugoslavia during the 1930s. Equally importantly, the failure of King Aleksandar’s ambitious project discredited future attempts to impose a Yugoslav identity from above, and this had important implications for socialist Yugoslavia. This book, then, offers historical insights into the failure of coexistence in a fragile heterogeneous society. The Yugoslav project of King Aleksandar did not restrict itself to the political elites and intellectuals of the kingdom’s major cities. This book will show that the regime reached beyond urban areas and affected every citizen of the largely rural and agrarian Yugoslav polity. Even in the most remote corners of the kingdom, “ordinary people” found

Introduction 5

themselves forced to take a stand for or against Yugoslavism because the authorities equated passivity with hostility towards the new ideology. Archival documents show that the regime deployed an expansive but often vague and rudimentary vocabulary of Yugoslav identity and that it reified the date of 6 January 1929 to such a degree that ordinary citizens began to shape their own lives and memories around that date. By assuming leadership and full ownership of Yugoslav ideology, the regime infused Yugoslavism with notions of loyalty to the state and to the ruler. Indeed, in the language of the regime, Yugoslavism became inseparable from the state. In contrast to the period before the First World War, during which the work of forging a Yugoslav identity was carried out largely by a narrow band of cultural elites, the state and its executive organs directly held the reins during this frantic ride towards a unitary Yugoslav identity. Hence, this study speaks of “state Yugoslavism.”4 As a dictator, King Aleksandar aspired to envelop and supersede past ideological programs among the South Slavs. The ideology of King Aleksandar’s dictatorship juxtaposed Serb, Croat, and Slovene plemenstvo (tribalism) with Yugoslav nacionalizam (nationalism). The state believed that the differences among Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes stemmed from the long period they had spent under various foreign rulers. Subject to foreign cultural, political, and social influences, the South Slavic, or Yugoslav, nation had fragmented into distinct “tribes.” These identities would now be superseded by a superior, stronger, and more viable Yugoslav nation. King Aleksandar believed passionately that his country could modernize itself only if “tribalism” was abolished. The 1920s had taught him that as long as Yugoslavia wallowed in the quagmire of bickering identities, it would remain internally divided, as well as vulnerable to the irredentist appetites of neighbours such as Italy and Hungary. Armed with an arsenal of draconian royal decrees, the state’s security apparatus positioned itself as the primary arbiter of the crucial line between the acceptable, or “national,” and the unacceptable, or “tribal.” The state injected itself into every aspect of Yugoslav identity during this period; it alone determined which of its citizens would be praised as “national workers” or condemned as “traitorous tribalists.” From King Aleksandar’s perspective, this vast project could best be accomplished under Serbian leadership. After all, in his mind, the Serbs had led the struggle to liberate the South Slav peoples from imperial rule ever since the First Serbian Uprising in 1804. And in the maelstrom

6  Making Yugoslavs

of the First World War, King Aleksandar had joined the Serbian Army, first in its horrendous sacrifices and later in glorious victory alongside the Allies. No other nation during that war had suffered greater losses in proportion to its population, and in the interwar years, Serb propagandists often referred to the “Golgotha” and “resurrection” of the Serb nation.5 By contrast, the Croats and Slovenes had fought on the “wrong” side, caught in the chains of Habsburg servitude. Moreover, the “re-creation” of a modern Yugoslav nation was more than a fanciful leap of faith; it was a political necessity. In the hostile environment of interwar Europe, the South Slavs could only hope to survive if they sought strength in numbers.6 From the monarch’s perspective, Croat and Slovene “tribalists” nurtured almost suicidal self-delusions. If they ever succeeded in creating independent, diminutive “homelands,” they would quickly be devoured by rapacious Italian, Austro-German, and Hungarian irredentists. King Aleksandar proved incapable of understanding that those Croats, Slovenes, and others now fervently believed they were caught in the jaws of the Serbs.7 At best, the state’s Yugoslav project after 6 January 1929 was naively optimistic about its potential to assimilate and supersede past national agendas. At worst, it conflated alternative identities with “obsolete tribalism” and, ultimately, separatism. The regime proved largely oblivious to the extent to which national development had taken place among the component South Slav nations by the end of the First World War. The Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes had all entered the new, common Yugoslav state bearing their respective traditions, customs, institutions, and cultures. Bosnian Muslims tended to resist the Croats’ and Serbs’ longstanding efforts to claim them, and significant numbers of inhabitants of Macedonia chafed under the perception that they were merely “southern Serbs.”8 The first decade of the Yugoslav state had proved calamitous not least because the political leaders of the most numerous yet in many ways least developed nation, the Serbs, had tried to foist many of their pre-1918 institutions on other Yugoslavs. The profoundly negative experiences of the first decade of the Yugoslav state, particularly for non-Serbs, made it exceedingly difficult and counterproductive for King Aleksandar to conjure a tabula rasa, try as he might. This book provides a detailed account of the origins, politics, and ideology of the regime of King Aleksandar; in short, it is a biography of a dictatorship. To date, no such treatment exists in English. Instead of skipping over the years of Aleksandar’s personal rule and treating them as a failed experiment, as most works of Yugoslav history tend to

Introduction 7

do, this book explores why the regime failed. It has been argued that Yugoslavia was doomed to fail – or at the very least that instability and authoritarian rule were inevitable – after the debacle brought about by the kingdom’s first constitution in 1921.9 I agree that the deck was in many ways stacked against the dictatorship’s ideological project, but I also believe that a fair account and assessment of this grand experiment must be predicated on a refusal to take its failure for granted. In particular, it is necessary to try to see the first two years of the regime through the eyes of a citizenry exhausted by a decade of parliamentary turmoil and interethnic strife. King Aleksandar’s project was, by any standard, daunting. Accordingly, this study complements other works on other Eastern European and Balkan states’ nationalizing projects during the interwar period. Czechoslovakia, a prosperous and stable democracy compared to Yugoslavia, had little success in forging Czechoslovakism in the “Czechoslovak nation with two tribes.”10 In Yugoslavia’s neighbour Romania, the governing elites encountered no end of problems as they tried to craft a Greater Romanian nation out of ethnic Romanians who had until recently lived under four radically different political systems: the nascent Romanian state (the Regat) and the Habsburg, Russian, and Ottoman empires.11 Greece and Turkey suffered through large-scale interethnic killings and population exchanges lasting well into the 1920s.12 In Greece, bitter struggles among competing Greek, Bulgarian, and Macedonian identities in the hinterland surrounding Thessaloniki had a direct impact on Yugoslav history.13 Even in France, Britain, and Italy, it was to a considerable extent only with the First World War that nationalizing projects began to succeed.14 Having laid out what this work aims to achieve, it would be prudent to say what it will not try to do. No attempt is made here to provide the reader with a full history of the “Yugoslav idea.” Other scholars have already provided detailed accounts of the emergence of modern national identities on the territory of what became Yugoslavia.15 Nor does this book purport to give a detailed account of the activities of the banned opposition parties during the dictatorship, as this has been done adequately elsewhere.16 Nor will it attempt to provide a full picture of the foreign relations of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia during these years.17 Finally, this study does not purport to be a work of cultural history, although it recognizes that a thorough treatment of cultural developments during the period of the dictatorship is missing from the historiography.18

8  Making Yugoslavs

General Background From 1918 to 1929, the officially recognized major administrative units (“historical lands”) in the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes included Slovenia, Croatia-Slavonia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Dalmatia, Vojvodina, Montenegro, and Serbia.19 Kosovo and Vardar Macedonia, the area of historical Macedonia controlled by the Yugoslav state, were fully incorporated into Serbia and were known colloquially as “Southern Serbia.”20 Any discussion of national ideology requires an understanding of the country’s ethnic demographics. Census data indicate that Yugoslavia had a population of 11,984,911 in 1921, growing to 13,934,038 by 1931.21 Unfortunately, these two interwar censuses make it very difficult to ascertain the exact ethnic breakdown of the country. This is because both censuses counted all speakers of “Serbo-Croatian” as “Serbo-Croats,” thereby obscuring how the Serbs and Croats were distributed, besides blurring the distinction between Serbs and Montenegrins. Further complicating the picture, the interwar Yugoslav state did not recognize the existence of a Macedonian language. “The official position was that they were Serbs.”22 Slavic Muslims were generally treated as either Serb (by Belgrade) or Croat (by Zagreb). This problem can be partly overcome by correlating the linguistic data with census information on religion. Differences in religion begin to flush out the relative numbers of Croats (overwhelmingly Catholic) and Slavic Muslims. However, they do not differentiate between Serbs and those Slavs who regarded themselves as Macedonian or Montenegrin. This study follows the calculations made by Ivo Banac, provided in the Table I.1. Banac concludes that “no national or religious group had an absolute majority. To ignore this fact and to govern as if such a majority existed could only bring misfortune.”23 It is important to note that interwar Yugoslavia was overwhelmingly pre-modern and agrarian. According to the 1921 census, 79.83 per cent of Yugoslavs lived in rural areas. In Serbia, which at the time was defined as including the Serbian lands of the Kingdom of Serbia from before the Balkan Wars as well as the “recovered” territories of Vojvodina, Macedonia, and Kosovo, 82.33 per cent of the population was rural. The following census, in 1931, showed only a minimal decrease in the rural character of the population: 76.58 per cent for Yugoslavia

Introduction 9 Table I.1. Yugoslavia’s national structure in 191824 Number

%

Serbs

4,665,851

38.83

Croats

2,856,551

23.77

Slovenes

1,024,761

8.53

Bosnian Muslims

727,650

6.05

Macedonians or Bulgars

585,558

4.87

Other Slavic

174,466

1.45

Germans

513,472

4.27

Hungarians

472,409

3.93

Albanians

441,740

3.68

Romanians, Vlachs, and Cincars

229,398

1.91

Turks

168,404

1.40

Jews

64,159

0.53

Italians

12,825

0.11

Others

80,079

6.69

TOTAL

12,017,323

100.00

as a whole, and 81.25 per cent for Serbia.25 High population growth, a stagnant economy, rural overpopulation, poverty, and other attendant problems were constant in the interwar years.26 This book proceeds chronologically. Chapter 1 provides the background for King Aleksandar’s Yugoslav project by summarizing the evolution of national ideologies in the period before the formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes in 1918. Chapter 2 focuses on the promulgation of the Vidovdan Constitution and the turbulent decade of parliamentary democracy. It concludes by casting new light on the fateful last six months of parliamentarism in the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. Chapter 3 covers the first year of the dictatorship. The initial focus is on political history, and specifically on explaining the legal and institutional framework established by King Aleksandar’s royal coup d’état. After this, attention turns to the popular reception of the new regime and, in particular, to the letters written to the Royal Court in response to the king’s actions. The chapter also closely examines the controversies surrounding Yugoslav holidays and the creation of a pan-Yugoslav Sokol movement.

10  Making Yugoslavs

Building on the previous chapters, chapter 4 examines the most important Yugoslav cultural associations. These organizations, which worked within the new political and cultural framework, attempted to rally the citizens of Yugoslavia to participate as nacionalni radnici (national workers) in the creation of a collective Yugoslav society. This chapter highlights the increasing tensions created between the Yugoslav state, on the one hand, and Islam and “tribal” identities, on the other. It also examines the rhetoric of the regime’s Yugoslav ideology. This part of the book pushes the narrative forward to September 1931, when King Aleksandar imposed a constitution. Chapter 5 begins by briefly reversing the clock to 6 January 1929 in order to scrutinize the key legislation pertaining to the police and other security forces. This will help illustrate how the Yugoslav state implemented and maintained its particular brand of Yugoslav ideology. Special attention is paid in this chapter to how individuals responded to the authoritarian ideological agenda. Chapter 6 covers the second half of the dictatorship. Thus, it resumes chronologically where chapter 4 ends. It looks at the interplay between Yugoslav ideology and pseudo-parliamentarism. It also examines the growing conflict between the Roman Catholic Church and the Yugoslav state. It concludes with the assassination of King Aleksandar in Marseille on 9 October 1934. The epilogue and conclusion addresses themes of change and continuity in the seven months between Aleksandar’s death and the holding of multiparty parliamentary elections in May 1935. The book concludes with a look ahead at the long-term effects of the failure of Yugoslav ideology to take root. Although this book examines interwar Yugoslavia as a whole, it strongly emphasizes the areas inhabited by Serbs and Croats. The troubled relations between those two groups formed the unstable fulcrum on which all of Yugoslavia pivoted. This is acknowledged even in recent works on interwar Yugoslavia that focus on the Slovenes, Macedonians, and Bosnian Muslims.27 I draw upon those works here, noting that the patterns observed with regard to those peoples do not differ substantially from the conclusions I draw about the Serbs and Croats. Finally, I note that for the area of Vardar Banovina (roughly speaking, Yugoslav Macedonia and Kosovo), research is greatly hampered by the near total absence of archives from the banovina administration.

Introduction 11

Note on Language and Translation of Sources A note on the use of foreign terms employed in this study is in order. At present, in the countries of former Yugoslavia, the official state languages include Slovenian, Croatian, Bosnian, Serbian, Macedonian, Montenegrin, and Albanian. By contrast, during the interwar period the state recognized only “Serbo-Croatian-Slovenian” or “Yugoslavian” as an official language.28 This “language” was at times also referred to as the državni ili narodni jezik (state or national [popular] tongue). In practice, except for internal documents in Slovenia (after 1929, Drava Banovina), which were largely written in Slovenian, the vast majority of official correspondence was conducted in “Serbo-Croatian” or “Yugoslav.” The other linguistic minorities of interwar Yugoslavia – Germans, Italians, Hungarians, Albanians, Czechs, Slovaks, Vlachs, Bulgarians, Turks, Romanians, Roma, Ukrainians (Ruthenians), and Russians – had little or no opportunity to use their native tongues in an official capacity – indeed, they faced sanctions if they did.29 Without engaging in any of the lengthy and often heavily politicized debates about linguistic differences among Serbs, Croats, Bosniaks, and Montenegrins, it can be said that the languages today known as Serbian, Croatian, Bosnian, and Montenegrin are mutually intelligible.30 The approach this book takes is to cite the form used in the primary or secondary source. For reasons that will become apparent in this work, an increasing proportion of official correspondence during the period under consideration was conducted in the ekavian subdialect favoured in Serbia, and laws were published in ekavian in the kingdom’s official legal gazette. Therefore, ekavian is used here when providing the original names for laws and official terms. It is not my intention to favour any particular political, ethnic, or national orientation. Unless otherwise stated, the author is responsible for all translations contained in this work. Care has been taken to ensure maximum consistency in the use of all political, legal, administrative, and other terms. Readers should note, however, that for a select number of salient words, no exact equivalent exists in English. Above all, this caveat applies to the crucial term narod and all its permutations. Similar in meaning and importance to the German word Volk, narod denotes a concept much more profound and complex than the English words “nation” or “people” and their related forms can possibly convey. Therefore, in each specific case I have attempted to choose the most appropriate of

12  Making Yugoslavs

these two English words. In particularly vexing cases, the word narod appears bracketed within the translation. For place names, I use the name in use today. However, in quoted material I retain the original name and provide the present-day name in brackets – for example, “Skoplje [Skopje].” Finally, I have generally used English rather than Serbo-Croatian plural forms. Hence, for example, I write banovinas instead of banovine.

PART ONE The Collapse of Constitutional Monarchy in Yugoslavia

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1  National Ideology and the Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes

Despite Yugoslavia’s extraordinarily complex history, the “national question in Yugoslavia” can largely be reduced to a handful of essential issues: (1) What are the spatial and ethnic boundaries of the South Slavs? (2) Should the South Slavs, or some portion of them, inhabit a joint and possibly independent South Slavic (i.e., Yugoslav) state? (3) What should the internal structure of the Yugoslav state be? And (4) what identity or identities should be permissible in the context of such a Yugoslav state, and how should they relate to past identities? This study analyses a particular case of the implementation of a nationalist ideology. In doing so, it accepts that “‘nation’ is a category of practice, not (in the first instance) a category of analysis.”1 With respect to Yugoslav identity, the question is how this was institutionalized in practice as a political form. Nations are understood here as socially and politically constructed entities or groups that are historically contingent and that change over time.2 That having been said, this study aspires to avoid not only antiquated notions of primordial national identity but also the far more pernicious and tenacious implications of what Jeremy King has called “ethnicism.”3 This denotes the assumption that nations have “sprung primarily from a specific set of mass, mutually exclusive ethnic groups defined by inherited cultural and linguistic patterns.”4 In other words, we must avoid the fallacy that modern national Croats and Serbs stem overwhelmingly from previously existing groups of ethnic Croats and Serbs. It is quite plainly in the interest of nationalist ideologues to reify ethnic groups and nations and to claim profound historical roles for them. Scholars writing about these phenomena should not tread the nationalists’ path by assuming that all inhabitants of a given area possess clearly defined notions of national identity and

16  Making Yugoslavs

consistently act accordingly. Rather, this study submits that ethnic or national identity can for long periods be latent or even absent, only to crystallize or erupt in critical historical moments. As categories of practice, ethnic groups and nations have certain similarities with dialects and languages: no one can really say where one ends and the other begins.5 Indeed, even a scholar as careful as Rogers Brubaker uses a variety of terms – including “ethnic nationality” – somewhat interchangeably.6 In common usage, a dialect is often considered to be to a language what an ethnic group is to a nation – in each case, the former is a constituent part, or an earlier developmental phase, of the latter. In practice, however, the distinction is very much in the eye of the often politicized beholder. “The Arabic language,” for example, covers a linguistic range greater than the gap between many European languages. The history of the Serbo-Croatian language, which has disintegrated into Serbian, Croatian, Bosnian, and Montenegrin, amply illustrates how complicated questions of language and identity can be.7 This study proceeds from the assumption that the three main national identities in what became the Kingdom of Yugoslavia – Serb, Croat, and Slovene – were operational (or perhaps more accurately, were being operationalized) as of the late nineteenth century. Among these, a sense of Serb national identity was arguably the most advanced thanks to the emergence of a state-building project in the early nineteenth century.8 After 1815, Serbia existed in various guises as a state, and Serb elites developed strategies for enlarging that state to eventually encompass all Serbs. By contrast, very few Croats or Slovenes had any ambitions to establish ethnically Croat or Slovene states outside the borders of the Habsburg Empire. Among the other South Slavs, such as the Bosnian Muslims and the Macedonians, notions of a particular identity developed later than elsewhere, and did so mainly as a reaction to the assimilationist thrusts of Serb, Croat, Bulgarian, Greek, and other nationalist agendas.9 The section that follows provides an overview of developments prior to 1918. It is worth pausing here to consider the typology of nationalism among Serbs and Croats proposed by Wolf Dietrich Behschnitt in his study of the development of Croat and Serb nationalism.10 Although idealized, and not well known in the English historiography, Behschnitt’s categories are a useful framework for analysing developments and permutations in the period from 1830 to 1914. Four considerations inform his typology: “1. The primary spheres of action of nationalism; 2. the way and method of the assertion of the goal of nationalism; 3. the

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  17

significance of nationalism for the individual; 4. the goals and tendencies of nationalism.”11 Using these parameters, Behschnitt distinguishes among three dichotomies of national ideologies and four forms of Yugoslavism.12 In the first dichotomy, “Serbianism and Croatianism” (Serbismus und Kroatismus), the two national ideologies are highly particularistic but also recognize each other. By contrast, “Great Serbianism and Great Croatianism” (Großserbismus und Großkroatismus) exhibit high degrees of irredentism, with each asserting a hegemonic and antagonistic role in terms of the other. The third dichotomy, “pan-Serbianism and panCroatianism” (Panserbismus und Pankroatismus), differs from the second in that each national agenda virtually negates the existence of the other. “The proponents of these forms of nationalism grant the right of independence and autonomy in the spheres of national politics and national culture only to their own nations.”13 With respect to Yugoslavism, Behschnitt discerns unitarist, integral, and federal forms, along with a fourth type that he calls pseudoYugoslavism. Unitarists believe that the South Slavs constitute an ethnic whole, but they do not necessarily pursue proactive homogenization. “Above all, the proponents of unitary Yugoslavism do not believe that the Yugoslavs are already a single nation.”14 Integralists, by contrast, adhere firmly to the notion of a single Yugoslav nation, even though they, too, recognize that it may not yet exist. “The ambitions of the proponents of integral Yugoslavism run towards a levelling out of the differences among the Yugoslav nations, to amalgamate these nations to as homogenous as possible a nation in a joint sovereign state.”15 Federalists respect the political and cultural particularity of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes and hence believe that a federal structure is the most suitable for a Yugoslav state. Finally, pseudo-Yugoslavism is a tactically determined choice: particularist interests adopt a Yugoslav guise in order to instead implement narrow (Serb, Croat, or Slovene) agendas. During the nineteenth century, Serb intellectuals and leaders devoted most of their energy and attention to expanding and consolidating the Serb state that had emerged from the First and Second Serb Uprisings (1804–13 and 1815, respectively).16 This policy is most popularly identified with the leading statesman of the early Serb state, Ilija Garašanin, and his famous Načertanije (Draft).17 Hostile neighbours and a dynastic feud between the houses of Obrenovi� and Karađorđevi� allowed little time for wishful thinking about South Slav unification. When thoughts did drift in that direction, prominent Serb ideologues tended to view

18  Making Yugoslavs

the matter as one of the unification of Serbdom, generously and somewhat vaingloriously defined by Vuk Stefanovi� Karadži� as including “Catholic and Muslim Serbs” who spoke the štokavian dialect.18 This assimilationist stance and strong focus on statehood combined to nourish “the idea that the Serbian state should ultimately coincide with the limits of Serb settlement, regardless of the local historical tradition.”19 The very small number of Slovene intellectuals active in the second half of the nineteenth century were concerned, by contrast, about assimilationist pressures arising from the German national project. Fearing the cultural disappearance of Slovenes in the Austrian part of Austria-Hungary, these intellectuals wanted to unite those provinces inhabited by Slovenes within Austria-Hungary. “Until the fall of the Dual Monarchy, this demand remained the primary goal of the Slovene national movement. They conceived of this unified Slovenia as an autonomous, self-governing unit within the framework of a federalized Habsburg Monarchy.”20 No demands, however, were made for a Slovene nation-state. “Slovenes did not have a medieval tradition of statehood like the Czechs or Croats and had to base their demands on principles of natural law.”21 Only on the eve of the First World War did other possibilities occur to the Slovenes. However, any inklings of Yugoslavism were predictably coupled with references to Slovene uniqueness. As the Slovene intellectual Ivan Cankar pointed out in a speech in 1913, at a time when the waves of enthusiasm for Yugoslavism generated by the Balkan Wars were beginning to lap against the borders of Slovenia, a state union of the South Slavs “must be a federal republic and must reflect in its internal organization the varied ethnic, social, economic, and cultural landscape it encompasses.”22 In short, the rare Slovene flirtations with Yugoslavism prior to the First World War were, like similar pan-Slavic dalliances, a by-product of the Slovene national awakening, not its main focus.23 With very few and late exceptions, there was no appetite among Slovenes for dismantling the Austro-Hungarian Empire, although plans for greater political cooperation and association among the South Slavs of that empire were under consideration.24 If anything, it was thought that expanding the Austro-Hungarian Empire deeper into the Balkans might envelop more South Slavs.25 Slovenec, the organ of the same Slovene Clericals who only a few years later would negotiate the formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, declared in July 1914, “We greet you with cannons, Serbs.”26

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  19

In the nineteenth century, some among the emerging Croat intellectual elite flirted with Romantic notions of recovering a lost Illyrian identity that would reunite the South Slavs.27 This idealistic and somewhat “self-denying” concept gradually lost its hold through a combination of lack of interest among the Serbs and strengthened Croat identity. Ante Starčevi� and Eugen Kvarternik and their Party of Croat [State] Right emphasized the Croat people’s uniqueness as well as their historical right to a state (hrvatsko pravo).28 “Nevertheless, a large segment of Croat intelligentsia never abandoned Illyrianism, and it underwent a sort of a modified revival in the 1860s under the different – South Slavic, or Yugoslav – name.”29 In 1866, Bishop Josip Juraj Strossmayer and Canon Franjo Rački founded the Yugoslav Academy of Sciences and Arts in Zagreb.30 The “ideological system” of Yugoslavism, as it has been called by the historian Mirjana Gross, competed but also crossbred with “exclusive Croatian nationalism, which was championed by the Party of the Right.”31 The programs of both groups were thus concerned with the entire Yugoslav territory, but they started from fundamentally different positions. Yugoslavism was based on the Illyrian doctrine of the equivalence of the Croatian, Serbian, and Slovene name and tradition – a doctrine which advocated the strengthening of mutual ties between them for the purpose of attaining a common cultural and political life in the future, based on the reconciliation of separate historical traditions and the establishment of mutual contemporary interests. The Party of Right formulated the concept that the Slovenes and Serbs were actually Croats.32

From this point on, those in Austria-Hungary who were inclined to envision a nation of South Slavs tended to push for federal solutions that could also incorporate Serbia and Montenegro. By the end of the nineteenth century, the napredna omladina (progressive youth) of Croatia, Slavonia, and Dalmatia were being inspired by the Czech politician Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk.33 Behschnitt argues that the progressive student movement was, of all ideological currents during this period, the one most likely to view a Yugoslav nation as a new or truly transcendental construction surmounting previous divisions. Nevertheless, Yugoslavism prior to 1914 was never able to inspire a popular form of nationalism that extended beyond “the often vague and contradictory visions of some representatives of the nationalist youth.”34 In other

20  Making Yugoslavs

words, Yugoslavism as a synthetic creation could not be disembedded from its Serb and Croat tropes. This ideological conundrum notwithstanding, the younger generation of students included four who would figure prominently in the formative years of the Yugoslav state: Ante Trumbi�, Frano Supilo, Svetozar Pribi�evi�, and Stjepan Radi�. Supilo was a key player in the founding in 1905 of the Hrvatsko-srpska koalicija (HSK, or Croato-Serb Coalition), which pressed for cooperation among Austria-Hungary’s South Slavs.35 Supilo and Trumbi� formed an important duo during the First World War. Significantly, the HSK adhered to the formula of narodno jedinstvo (national oneness). As Ivo Banac notes, it is incorrect to read narodno jedinstvo with its “vague premises” as “the emergence of unitarist Yugoslavism.”36 Rather, this was a bid for a strategic political alliance of South Slavs within Austria-Hungary. “In short, the HSK on the whole remained within the traditions of Croat Yugoslavism.”37 After the First World War, Stjepan Radi� would come to dominate the political scene in Croatia, so his pre-war understanding of Croat identity and aspirations deserves attention.38 This is not to say that Radi� exemplified mainstream Croat political thought before 1914. According to Mark Biondich, although Radi� was a proponent of narodno jedinstvo, his variant differed substantially from that of the contemporary Croat intelligentsia, primarily in its political implications. The idea of creating a single Yugoslav state, encompassing the Habsburg monarchy’s South Slavs and the kingdoms of Serbia and Montenegro, was politically anathema to Radi�. He simultaneously emphasized Croatia’s state right and the unity of Croats and Serbs within Croatia’s historic borders. Reduced to its bare essence, Radi�’s narodno jedinstvo was operative within, and politically confined to, the borders of Croatia and the Habsburg monarchy.39

Radi� possessed a naive understanding of the innocent peasant masses, whom he saw as being manipulated by cynical intellectual and bourgeois elites, the gospoda (gentlemen). “Only a cretinous mind or criminal soul can preach about divisive medieval tribal hatred.”40 If the various Slavic peasants could be persuaded to recognize all that they had in common, it would be impossible to exploit them by dividing them along national lines. “For Radi�, then, the national and social questions clearly intersected; to solve the Serb-Croat dispute first

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  21

necessitated a resolution of the gospoda-peasant leadership.”41 A firm anti-clericalist, Radi� blamed the Roman Catholic and Serbian Orthodox clergy for exacerbating divisions among the peasants. Nothing in this idealistic world view prevented Radi� from adhering steadfastly to the notion of Croat state right. That Croats should abandon their historical right to statehood in favour of a united South Slav state formed from the Kingdom of Serbia was unacceptable to him. In the same vein, Serbs could achieve equal social standing and rights in Croatia, but they could not be a political nation. Dom, the organ of the Croat People’s Peasant Party, contended in 1908 that “our Orthodox can therefore call themselves Serbs insofar as the Serb name is for them a term of Orthodox faith, or a memory of their old homeland Serbia; but the Serb name cannot have a political meaning [in Croatia].”42 Serbs were to remain loyal citizens and not to proselytize for the expansion of the Kingdom of Serbia. It is clear, then, why Radi� viewed the HSK with suspicion, regarding it as a stalking horse for a united Yugoslavia under Serb leadership. This put him at odds with Svetozar Pribi�evi�, who as co-leader of the HSK (and sole leader after 1910) showed a strong preference for eventual union with Serbia.43 Radi� after 1918 opposed the creation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes and continued to insist for many years on the notion of Croat state right.44 All of this contrasted with the dominant line of thought in Serbia, where potential expansion was viewed along narrowly nationalist lines and where the concept of a Croat “political nation” was unacceptable.45 Serb intellectuals and political leaders focused on the unification of Serbdom, not of South Slavs.46 No cultural figures in Serbia “could match the growing Serbophilia of Croat unitarism with a corresponding Croatophilia of their own.”47 Lastly, a word must be said about the overwhelming majority of South Slavs who were not part of the intellectual elite. To the extent that a collective consciousness existed among “ordinary people,” it was parochial. Before the First World War, (proto-)Yugoslav perspectives were to a very great extent restricted to elite circles and student activists. Those children who were fortunate enough to obtain an education were not taught to look forward to a Yugoslav future. “Notwithstanding the support that Yugoslavism enjoyed among many intellectuals, students, and some politicians, as well as among some sympathizers in the Western states before [the assassination at] Sarajevo, this sentiment was not reflected in the prewar education systems and textbooks.”48 Rather than Yugoslavism, children in Serbia were reared on a pedagogical diet of

22  Making Yugoslavs

“Serbianism,” while their counterparts in Croatia ingested “Croatianism” in an Austro-Hungarian framework. “1914 cannot be construed as the dawn of South Slav unity; rather it represents the benchmark to demonstrate the limited degree to which Yugoslavism had penetrated prewar education and prepared the future leaders of the kingdom to rally behind it and lead the new state.”49 What can be said about the man whose dictatorship after 1929 would launch the boldest experiment in implementing a Yugoslav ideology? There is little sign that prior to the First World War, then–Crown Prince Aleksandar envisioned the unification of the South Slavs. Born in 1888 in Cetinje in Montenegro, Aleksandar became heir to the throne only because of the severe psychological afflictions of his older brother, Ðorđe. Aleksandar spent his childhood in Cetinje, Geneva, and Petrograd and a large part of his adolescence as a cadet in the Imperial Russian Army. In 1912, in a letter to Tsar Nicholas II, he professed enthusiasm for Russian-led pan-Slavism. Both as a Russian pupil and as a Serb and a Slav, Russia is dear to me, so much so that I count it as my second Fatherland […] In any case, the realization of our Serb political ideal presents itself as an unavoidable need of all Slavs, whom Your Imperial Majesty needs to lead. Because the unification of Serb lands: Serbia, Old Serbia, parts of Macedonia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia and Montenegro, would make one state of 280,000 square kilometers with a pure Slavic population of 10 millions.50

Three scholars attempted to shape Aleksandar’s views on the national question: the geographer and former rector of Belgrade University, Jovan Cviji�; the Serbian Orthodox theologian Nikolaj Velimirovi�; and the philologist Aleksandar Beli�. “Cviji� and Beli� spoke to him about Serbs and Croats as one nation in essence, the former from the perspective of geography and the latter from the perspective of linguistics, while Velimirovi� optimistically foresaw that it could come to a union of the two [Catholic and Orthodox] churches.”51 But according to the historian Branislav Gligorijevi�, these men had relatively little impact on Aleksandar, whose view of the evolving situation was shaped more by his self-image as a military officer. Indications are that overall, Aleksandar was “saturated by the national idea of liberating the Serb lands,” which he regarded as his primary mission.52 To accomplish that mission, Aleksandar spent most of his energy prior to 1914 pushing for a regional alliance with Montenegro, Greece,

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  23

Bulgaria, and Romania against the Ottoman Empire. Given the growing tensions among the Orthodox Christians of the Balkans, this dance of diplomatic and military alliances proved difficult. Bulgaria’s enthusiasm for a stronger “Balkan federation” was rebuffed; its turbulent bilateral relations with its neighbours culminated in the Second Balkan War. Montenegro, closely tied both ethnically and dynastically to Serbia, proved fickle, with Prince (after 1910, King) Nikola resisting Serbia’s attempts at unification. After the enormous territorial gains of the Balkan Wars, the leadership of the Kingdom of Serbia exhibited no immediate desire to “liberate” Bosnia, Herzegovina, and other territories west of Serbia from Austro-Hungarian rule. Although it had emerged victorious, the Serbian state had been debilitated by the military, political, and economic stresses of the Balkan Wars. Moreover, Serbia had through its territorial conquests become significantly less homogeneous; it now encompassed large populations in Kosovo and Macedonia that were either indifferent or hostile to its nation-building project.53 Serbia’s immediate priority was to expand its state infrastructure into the newly acquired territories. In the short term, most of the newly acquired territories were placed under special regulations; ethnic minorities received harsh treatment.54 While the Serbs by no means relinquished their long-term ambitions west of the Drina, all but the most sanguine nationalists felt this would have to wait for at least a few decades. The trouble, as all of Europe was soon to learn, was that the most fanatical expansionists had found a home within the Serbian Army, in the Black Hand. This small group of conspirators, in tandem with the zealots of the Young Bosnia organization, achieved a critical mass that on 28 June 1914 set in motion the most exhaustively analysed chain reaction of the twentieth century. Both at the outset of the First World War and during its first years, Aleksandar held fast to his view that the conflict was a struggle for the survival and liberation of Serbdom. “In the case of a favourable result, in which he did not doubt, he strove for the creation of Great Serbia, into whose composition would enter all those Austro-Hungarian territories in which Serbs, or respectively those Slavs who belonged to the Orthodox church, constituted the majority.”55 At the same time, Serb politicians set forth expansionist territorial aims; in particular, they opposed the emergence of an independent Croat state. In the Niš Declaration of December 1914, the Serb leadership stated that it intended to fight for the unification of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes.56 Throughout the war, as Serbian military fortunes waxed and

24  Making Yugoslavs

waned, Prime Minister Nikola Paši� and his government duelled with the Habsburg South Slavs represented by Frano Supilo and Ante Trumbi�. These two men, who opposed the Habsburg Empire and had formed a Yugoslav Committee at the outset of the war, wanted to be treated as equals by their Serb counterparts. The Yugoslav Committee claimed to speak for all South Slavs under Austro-Hungarian rule, including the Austro-Hungarian Serbs whom the Kingdom of Serbia claimed to represent in international negotiations.57 Unfortunately, “throughout most of the war the Yugoslav Committee and the Serbian government did little to coordinate their efforts.”58 The result, a growing scepticism among erstwhile Croat enthusiasts of Yugoslavism, “foreshadowed the disillusionment of an entire generation of unitarist Croat intelligentsia.”59 On the Serbian side, the key figure during these years was Paši�. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, he had penned a brief, unpublished tract on Serbo-Croat relations.60 The fifteen “working hypotheses” he listed at the beginning of the manuscript permit some insight into his world view. The hypotheses were decidedly inauspicious for future cooperation between Serbs and Croats. The very first of them bemoaned the “insincerity of the Croats in the accomplishment and establishment of harmony, the disagreement on the removal of barriers in the triunity [trojedinica], their aspirations to under harmony assume the rejection by the Serbs of their own rights and nationality [narodnost].”61 Paši� viewed the Croats as fickle particularists who were only rhetorically and instrumentally committed to any kind of unity with Serbs or others. Also present in these hypotheses was the guiding thought that this was the era of “great and strong states” – a point of view that provided a critical impetus for South Slavic unity.62 In Paši�’s mind, only Serbia was capable of unifying the South Slavs – a project by which he often simply meant, implicitly or explicitly, Serbian unification. Speaking in the Serbian parliament in 1905, he stated that “the idea of liberation carried me into politics and into radicalism, because I was thoroughly convinced: only an open-minded Serbia, only Serbia with free constitutional and parliamentary life can be the centre of Serbdom, can be the Piedmont of all Serbdom.”63 Paši�, as prime minister, was a tirelessly stubborn political animal. Justifiably, the Serb historian Ðorđe Stankovi� has described him as not particularly enamoured of ideology:

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  25 Paši� did not particularly occupy himself with those [ideological] questions, and there is not a single credible testimony on the basis of which it would be possible to explain his theoretical approach to the problem of the ethnic composition and the layout [prostiranje] of the Yugoslav peoples. His definitions of the terms of nacija and narod were quite indeterminate, and sometimes extremely imprecise. In practical politics, Paši� almost did not use them. Grasping that Serbs, Croats and Slovenes were one nation, he earlier used terms such as “one-tribers” [jedno-plemenici], “three tribes of one nation,” [tri plemena jednog naroda], “one united trinominal nation,” [jedan jedinstveni troimeni narod], etc.64

The impression to take away from all of this is that Paši� was a parochial politician possessed of an iron will to maintain political power and whose interest in nationalist ideology was highly instrumental. He had an unparalleled talent for scheming and was an occasional rival to the Crown Prince, who arguably learned much by observing a master at work.65 Paši� displayed admirable consistency in his devotion to the interests of the Kingdom of Serbia – the prolific Serb legal scholar Slobodan Jovanovi� memorably referred to him as a “monomaniac.”66 Many of his contemporaries viewed him as a formidable if woefully dated political figure. He had neither the ability to perceive nor the willingness to admit that the shelf life of his politics and his world view had long ago expired. “The forces that led to the creation of a Yugoslav state rather than a widely expanded Serbia were not really comprehensible to him.”67 From Paši�’s perspective, the Yugoslav Committee ought to have recognized both the primacy and the sacrifices of the Serbian state. At most, the Croats might look forward to “concessions that do not spoil the unity of the state and do not aggravate the crystallizing of a single nation.”68 It was typical of him, then, that the very first words in his treatise The Harmony of Serbo-Croats were “the insincerity of the Croats.”69 Yet far from reading into this statement a profession of strong anti-Croat sentiment, it seems more appropriate to view his prejudice as the disdain of a strong politician for anyone who might oppose or dilute his views of a strong state and his leading role in it. During the First World War, “Paši�’s main fear was that the Allies might decide to give their support to an independent Croatia embracing all, or at least most, of the Habsburg South Slavic possessions.”70 Paši� was aware of the notion of Croat state right, the pursuit of which had been part of Croat political culture since the eighteenth century, but

26  Making Yugoslavs

in his tract he stated bluntly that he found historical rights to be largely irrelevant to contemporary solutions.71 Yet the suggestion that Croatia should not be consulted as an entity during the process of Yugoslav state formation was predictably highly offensive to Croat sensibilities. Serb politicians tended to read Croat devotion to state right – which could in theory be realized either independently or under Austro-Hungarian or Yugoslav auspices – as separatist longings for an independent Croatian state. Meanwhile Aleksandar, who had been elevated to Prince Regent and de facto commander-in-chief of the Serbian Army shortly before the outbreak of armed hostilities, was preoccupied by territorial and military issues rather than abstract questions of national ideology and state rights. This was quite understandable in the midst of a war that threatened to extinguish Serbia’s existence. In January 1915, R.W. Seton-Watson, a prominent British political activist and expert on Eastern Europe, met Aleksandar at Niš at a time when Serbia was approaching the nadir of its military fortunes. Comparing this meeting with earlier encounters with Aleksandar, Seton-Watson received “the impression of a man who is much surer of his ground and thoroughly capable of forming an independent opinion on political questions.”72 Seton-Watson, who harboured his own quaint notions about race and nations, tried to persuade Aleksandar to cede parts of Macedonia and to project Serbia’s territorial ambitions westwards towards the South Slavs of AustriaHungary instead. Aleksandar, who was busy examining various maps of a future enlarged Serb or Yugoslav state drawn by Cviji�, replied that he would “sooner lose Bosnia than give up Macedonia.”73 Nonetheless, Seton-Watson pronounced Aleksandar “sufficiently fascinated by the dream of Jugoslavia [sic] to consent to certain concessions, if he could be sure of achieving the dream as a reality.”74 Aleksandar during the First World War only rarely expressed his views on the Yugoslav question, and the available quotes do not reveal a consistent view. In September 1915, Seton-Watson wrote that he had urged Aleksandar in vain to “demonstrate that the vital interests of the Serb national dynasty require the strictest loyalty to the Yugoslav program, more than that required even by the interests of a race paralyzed by discord.”75 Intriguingly and somewhat paradoxically, Seton-Watson argued that the Serbs might as well go all the way and incorporate all the lands inhabited by Croats and Slovenes, as even a rump Yugoslavia containing only Slavonia and Dalmatia would encompass enough Croats to destroy “the purely Orthodox character of the Serbs.”76

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  27

Seton-Watson believed that Serbia faced a choice between a Byzantine, medieval, and clerical state and a modern state based on citizenship and freedom of religion, for which Great Britain would be the model.77 A meeting between Trumbi� and Aleksandar in April 1916 revealed disagreement over the respective roles of Serbia and the Yugoslav Committee.78 On a visit to London in the spring of 1916, Aleksandar stated that he supported the unification of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, “who are one nation with the same traditions, the same language and the same aspirations, but an evil destiny has divided them.”79 Some months later, he spoke to his own soldiers in narrower terms that emphasized Serb primacy.80 The Corfu Declaration of July 1917 endorsed the formation of a kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes under the Karađorđevi� dynasty but left open the thorny question of the future state’s internal structure. “That the Serbs, Croats, Slovenes belonged to the same ethnic group was not even questioned. They were considered ‘tribes’ [plemena] of a single ‘trinominal nation’ [troimeni narod].”81 Relations between Trumbi� and Paši� were fraught and would deteriorate steadily thereafter.82 At issue again was the disagreement between the Serbs, who favoured a strongly centralized state, and the Yugoslav Committee, whose leaders dreamed of a federation or confederation in which the historical uniqueness of Croatia and Slovenia would be fully respected. Critically, the Corfu Declaration was vague with regard to the voting mechanisms for deciding constitutional questions; because of this, the declaration meant different things to the signatories. Trumbi� spoke of it as a Yugoslav “Magna Carta,” whereas Paši� viewed it as yet another non-binding document.83 Subsequently, Paši� tried to prepare the ground for a strong centralized Yugoslav state under Serb (and Radical) leadership in order to ensure that Serbia would not “drown in the sea of a Yugoslavia.” In his view, only Serbia could represent Serbs outside Serbia. He laboured to portray the Yugoslav Committee as an Austrophile clique, on one occasion complaining that “our Serbs in the Yugoslav Committee have lost every Serb characteristic and have become more Yugoslavs.”84 Trumbi� attempted to counter by demanding that a Yugoslav assembly be convened with Aleksandar at its head, but to no avail. For the moment, Aleksandar supported Paši�, even though the latter’s solo efforts had sown disquiet even among his own ministers.85 This notwithstanding, Seton-Watson reported to the British Intelligence Bureau in September 1917 that “the Jugo-Slav delegates had a more favourable opinion than

28  Making Yugoslavs

ever of the Serbian Prince Regent, whom they regard as entirely devoted to their cause.”86 Seton-Watson was not alone in his conviction that the obstacle to unifying Yugoslavia on egalitarian terms was Paši� and not the Prince Regent. After Seton-Watson briskly attacked Paši� in The New Europe in August 1918, Jovan Cviji� heartily congratulated him.87 Expressing his dislike for Paši�’s methods, Cviji� enclosed a copy of a telegram he had sent to Prince Regent Aleksandar that urged him to establish a government consisting of prominent Yugoslavs from both Serbia and the Austro-Hungarian territories. Seton-Watson remained convinced that “there is no friction of any kind between the Jugoslav Committee and either the Prince-Regent or General Headquarters, both of whom fully appreciate its standpoint.”88 Yet by November 1918, Seton-Watson was expressing grave worry that Aleksandar was compromising himself and his views by supporting Paši�.89 In the meantime, the Allies strengthened Paši�’s hand by withholding recognition from the Yugoslav Committee.90 Meanwhile, on 8 October 1918, as Austria-Hungary began to implode, the empire’s Croats, Serbs, and Slovenes formed a National Council (Narodno vijeće) in Zagreb. The council was intended to work in harmony with the Serbian government to manage the transition to a joint state. At a time of rapidly changing events and Allied diplomatic pressure, a third declaration on the Yugoslav question was signed by representatives of the Yugoslav Committee and representatives of Serbia in Geneva in November 1918.91 Paši� tried everything – including hiding in the washroom and in his hotel room – to avoid signing this agreement, which called for an equal partnership between the Yugoslav Committee and the Kingdom of Serbia.92 This would require a carefully negotiated transition during which an interim government would take stock of the institutional legacies of all concerned – a notion that was anathema to Paši�.93 In the end, French diplomatic pressure and the vacuum of support resulting from the collapse of the Russian Empire compelled Paši� to sign. Yet after the Geneva Agreement was concluded, Paši� immediately disowned it and resigned as prime minister. Noteworthy here is the elaborate conspiratorial dance Paši� performed after Geneva. In his communications with the Serbian government and Aleksandar, Paši� presented himself as the sole capable interlocutor with the Entente and as the bulwark against the Yugoslav Committee’s suspected Austrophile and republican tendencies. This

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  29

involved no small amount of innuendo and misrepresentation, as Cviji� and other Serb intellectuals realized at the time.94 The historian Gligorijevi� argues that Aleksandar may at that point have been “primarily interested in the unification of the Serb lands, which the Croats and the Slovenes could join if they so desired.”95 At the very same time, representatives of the Yugoslav Committee were trying desperately to communicate to the Prince Regent that “were he to support the obstructionist policy of Paši�, the position of the dynasty might be imperilled.”96 Yet it soon emerged that Paši� had exaggerated the level of dissent over the Geneva Agreement. This was indicative of his rather manipulative attitude towards information, even where the Prince Regent was concerned. In any case, Aleksandar was none too happy about the diplomatic embarrassment caused by Paši�’s volte-face. His anger over Paši�’s signature was one reason why he later blocked Paši�’s efforts to become the new kingdom’s first prime minister.97 In the end, military “facts on the ground” established the boundaries of the new kingdom.98 Aleksandar and the Serb leadership remained devoted to the notion of Serb supremacy. From Aleksandar’s perspective, the former Austro-Hungarian territories inhabited by Serbs, Croats, Muslims, and Slovenes were being enveloped in the cloak of the Karađorđevi� dynasty and the Serbian state. This amounted to “negat[ing] Yugoslav statehood and express[ing] Serb statehood and sovereignty through the monarch.”99 Croat and Slovene leaders, feeling the panted breath of Italian territorial ambitions down their necks, and confronted by rapidly mounting anarchy in the countryside, scurried into the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes on 1 December 1918.100 In a memorable turn of phrase, Stjepan Radi�, always the loquacious demagogue, excoriated those who rushed into unification in November 1918 for flying “like drunken geese into a fog.”101 Yet most Croats realized that in the prevailing political and military atmosphere, the Serbian Army was the only force that could re-establish a modicum of order and prevent a loss of territory.102 Unfortunately, the first direct encounter between Croat peasants and the Serbian Army was a brutal one, involving Serbian army officers applying martial law to put down Croat peasant revolts.103 “The Serbs could adjust to the new circumstances without feeling of loss, without being deprived of their sense of national individuality. For the other nationalities, the unification was not so simple.”104 The Kingdom of Serb, Croats, and Slovenes was proclaimed on 1 December 1918.105 In Belgrade, Prince Regent Aleksandar greeted

30  Making Yugoslavs

the representatives of the National Council with a grandly teleological statement: Receiving your announcement I am convinced that by this act I am fulfilling my duty as ruler, because with this I am merely realizing that which the best sons of our blood – of all three faiths and all three names from both sides of the Danube, the Sava and the Drina – began to prepare already under the reign of my grand-fathers Prince Aleksandar I and Prince Mihailo, blessed be their memory, that which corresponds to the wishes and views of my nation, and therefore in the name of His Royal Highness King Petar I, I proclaim the unification of Serbia with the lands of the independent state of Slovenes, Croats and Serbs in the unified Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes [...] [Long] live the entire nation, Serb, Croat and Slovene! May our Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes always be happy and great!106

The terminological and legal ambiguities in the Royal Proclamation spoke volumes about the divisions and hurdles that lay ahead. Notably, both the Prince Regent and the delegates of the National Council referred to a “Serbo-Croato-Slovene nation” (srpsko-hrvatsko-slovenački narod). Yet did such a nation exist, except in the minds of a few intellectuals? And did references to an independent state of Slovenes, Croats, and Slovenes signify that this was, after all, a unification of equals? Subsequent events did not augur well for positive answers to these questions. From the outset, the state experienced severe and at times nearly fatal birth pangs generated by contrasting political and ideological agendas. The formative debates featured powerful collisions of the egos of the politicians and of the Prince Regent. Already in December 1918, Aleksandar was interfering directly in parliamentary politics by refusing to appoint Paši� as the first Yugoslav prime minister, instead handing that post to Paši�’s party colleague Stojan Proti�.107 Over the following years, the internal contradictions and deep structural flaws that informed this constitutional system would cause the entire state to teeter over an abyss. After Aleksandar’s initial proclamation, much work needed to be done to craft the new state’s legal foundations. In March 1919, a provisional parliament (Privremeno narodno predstavništvo) tasked with drafting a new constitution met for the first time. It would take two-and-a-half turbulent years for the new state to receive a constitution

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  31

and much longer than that to mould the legal patchwork inherited from a multitude of jurisdictions into a single countrywide system. Meanwhile, the tendency of centralists to accuse federalists of separatism placed further strain on the fragile political environment.108 Matters were not improved by the at times reckless rhetoric of the man who quickly became the most prominent Croat leader, Stjepan Radi�. The prolonged struggle to determine the structure of the state found a nominal and flawed resolution in the promulgation of a centralist constitution on Vidovdan (St Vitus’s Day, 28 June) in 1921. The historian Holm Sundhaussen has succinctly summarized the four main possible models for the Yugoslav state during the period from 1918 to 1921: 1. The integrative model: completely mutual integration on the basis of Yugoslavism, and thereby a surmounting of the single nationalisms of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, 2. the federative model: a recognition of the equality of the three nations and of their interoperation in the framework of a federal state, 3. the Great Serbian model: the expansion of the Serb understanding of the state prior to 1918 to the new joint state, and 4. the separatist model: the splitting off of the single nations together with their territories.109

All of these options presupposed answers to questions of both national ideology and state structure, and this led to a conflation of these topics in the political debates of the period. In addition, the manner in which the state had been proclaimed in December 1918 imposed structural constraints on the constitutional discussions over the next two-and-a-half years. There was no negotiation among equals, as “in reality only the Serbian government remained sovereign in the interregnum between December 1 and the naming of Yugoslavia’s first cabinet on December 20. This situation continued all but in name until the proclamation of the 1921 Constitution.”110 Likewise, the Serbian Constitution of 1903 essentially remained in force during this period, and the new kingdom was recognized internationally as the legal successor to the Kingdom of Serbia.111 Nor were republican or separatist options really on the table, for the formation of an initial state took constitutional monarchy as the point of departure. “The doctrine of narodno jedinstvo was therefore confirmed in the institution of the monarchy, because only those who distinguished between the Serbs and Croats could find fault in the reign of a Serbian dynasty over Croatia.”112

32  Making Yugoslavs

The fate of the individual historical identities of those territories entering into the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes figured centrally in the political discussions of this period. Slovene and Croat political elites wanted the new state to be an association of equals; thus, they tended to want to retain at least the vestiges of their distinctiveness. They therefore sought to preserve the pre-war internal jurisdictional boundaries with which they were familiar, as well as coveted historical titles for officials such as Croatia’s ban (governor). This attachment to separate provinces replete with titles, rights, and privileges struck Belgrade as quirky nostalgia at best. In fact, many in Belgrade detected a distinct odour of separatism and did not hesitate to say so. Why, that is, did Croats and Slovenes want to retain their particularist labels and separate jurisdictions now that they had been (re)united with their Serb brothers? “Most of the old provinces had had their own legislative bodies. If the provinces continued within their traditional frontiers, the former legislatures could easily be restored at some future date.”113 Flush with victory in the First World War, but bled to the point of utter exhaustion, Serbia’s leaders – the Radical Party – felt more strongly than ever that the Kingdom of Serbia had been the Piedmont of Yugoslavia. All the institutions of the Serbian kingdom could and should therefore be extrapolated without modification onto Yugoslavia as a whole. The Radicals thus came closest to outright support of a Great Serbian model for the nascent state. Accustomed to ruling Serbia prior to the First World War, the Radical leaders assumed that they would hold similarly consistent tenure at the helm of the Yugoslav state, and in this assumption they were not far from the truth. This sense of entitlement perhaps helps explain why the Radicals saw no great need to articulate an ideology.114 One of the party’s few pronouncements on the national question stated that “one nation ‘of three names’ [jedan ‘troimeni’ narod] could not exist, nor could it be arranged ‘by decree or law.’”115 Accordingly, the Radicals vehemently rejected the name “Yugoslavia,” insisting on “Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes.”116 Implicit in the Radical view was that the Serb nation had played the predominant role in gathering together the South Slavs.117 Having achieved his goal of uniting almost all Serbs in one state, Paši� set out to block any federal or confederal solutions that might “strand” Serbs in Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina in other states or entities. “Paši� warned that a ‘Serb, no matter where he lived, wishes to unite with Serbia, without asking about its internal organization.’”118

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  33

Powerful as the Radicals were, they could not implement their program alone. They found their key ally in Svetozar Pribi�evi�, a Serb from Croatia and a leading figure in the Democratic Party. Although he possessed a more Yugoslav orientation and background than Paši�, as the first Minister of Internal Affairs of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, he did not hesitate to establish a harsh and centralistic system.119 A supporter of narodno jedinstvo since his youth, Pribi�evi� believed in relentlessly implementing the integrative model, by force if necessary. As minister in charge of the police, and with the full support of Prince Regent Aleksandar, he had free rein to carry out his political ambitions and make his dreams come true. “Immediately after the unification he set out to establish one all-Yugoslav party, which would be zealously attached to the cause of monarchical order, unitary statehood, centralism, and social progress.”120 In Pribi�evi�’s Yugoslavia, there was no room for the old dividing lines of provinces and regions and any sentimental attachment to past territorial divisions played into the hands of the young country’s many foreign enemies. Regarding national ideology, “though Pribi�evi� held that a unitary Yugoslav nation already objectively existed, he at the same time maintained that it had to be propagated by careful missionary work of enlightened Yugoslavist intelligentsia.”121 Unfortunately, circumstances conspired to render fallow whatever fertile ground might have existed for the Democrats’ ploughs. For residents of the former Habsburg lands, the new civil service left much to be desired compared to the pre-1918 bureaucracy. Purges of civil servants did not help, nor did the conversion from the old crown to the new dinar at a highly disadvantageous rate.122 Too often, legions of gendarmes rather than teachers and cultural figures were the new state’s most visible missionaries. The state authority wielded by the gendarmes and the army was buttressed by the paramilitary Organization of Yugoslav Nationalists (Organizacija jugoslovenskih nacionalista, or ORJUNA), an ardent, youthful, and far rougher gang.123 Founded in Split in 1921, ORJUNA viewed its mission as defending the Yugoslav state against separatism, communism, and a variety of other “enemies” and “bacteria.”124 Despite their shared affinity for a strong state, ideological turbulence plagued relations between the Radicals and Pribi�evi�. The dissonance between Pribi�evi�’s unitarist ambitions and the more narrowly Serb strivings of the Radicals were on full display. During 1919, the Radical government under Proti� balked at Pribi�evi�’s efforts to achieve

34  Making Yugoslavs

internal conformity in the new kingdom through harsh legislation and sheer force. “Unlike Paši�, Proti� was convinced that autocratically imposed centralism in the end also endangered Serbian liberties.”125 Proti� advanced a proposal for structuring the state that, while prioritizing Serb interests, would take pains not to run roughshod over historical provinces.126 He stated in November 1920 that one could not expect Slovene, Croat, and Serb identities to disappear immediately into one whole, calling such a view “an exaggeration dangerous for our national unity, especially in these early days of our new national and state life.”127 In this sense, rather ironically, Proti� was marginally closer to the views of Croat particularists than to those of the ambitious Croatian Serb Minister of Internal Affairs. It is a measure of the political temperature that Proti�’s willingness to compromise earned him accusations of supping with separatists. The Radicals also opposed the agrarian reforms advanced by Pribi�evi� and the Democrats.128 This culminated in Proti�’s resignation in the summer of 1919 and the appointment of a new government led by the Democrat Ljuba Davidovi�. After months of impasse, Proti� resumed as prime minister in February 1920. However, he remained at loggerheads with Pribi�evi� and increasingly also with Paši�. With the Democrats and the Radicals bickering for most of 1919 and 1920, the situation in Croatia remained tense. The Prince Regent postponed several visits to Croatia amidst warnings that social and national discontent threatened to ignite. When he finally did visit in June 1920, even those in the Croat political and cultural elites who supported the new kingdom were dismayed by the absence of any recognition of Croat state right in the protocol for the visit. They had hoped to see the ban seated next to the Prince Regent. Instead, the new Radical prime minister, Milenko Vesni�, rode alongside the Prince Regent, with the ban relegated to a separate vehicle.129 Much more serious was a peasant rebellion that swept Croatia in September 1920.130 Opposition by the peasantry to the registration of livestock led to direct challenges to the new state’s authority. These manifestations of peasant anger in some cases had overtones of communism, which terrified the authorities in light of Béla Kun’s recent revolution in Hungary. Serb politicians were predisposed to assume the worst – separatism mixed with communism – while Croat politicians saw the uprising as the predictable result of Pribi�evi�’s centralist policies.131

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  35

The Croat peasant uprising was suppressed fairly easily by the state; even so, it signalled the presence of a broad gulf between Croatia and Belgrade. No one in Serbia, and few among the cosy Croat intellectual elite grouped in a political alliance known as the Croat Union (Hrvatska zajednica, or HZ), seemed quite prepared for the emerging juggernaut that was the hitherto “seemingly innocuous HPSS [Hrvatska pučka seljačka stranka (Croat People’s Peasant Party)] of Stjepan Radi�.”132 The November 1920 elections for delegates to the Constituent Assembly that was to draft the constitution marked the triumphant arrival on the Yugoslav political stage of the HPSS and its doctrine of peasant republicanism. The HPSS received 14.3 per cent of the vote in the country as a whole, making it the fourth-largest party in the country, and 37 per cent in Croatia–Slavonia, where it topped the rankings.133 (As an indication of the social divide in Croatia, the HPSS received only 6.77 per cent of votes in Zagreb.134) By 1921, Radi� “could boast of having over 2,000 local party organizations with approximately one million followers.”135 No other party in the country dominated its home turf as authoritatively, not even the Radicals in Serbia despite their more established and equally impressive party network. Radi� insisted on respect for Croat state right and stubbornly rejected monarchy. This put him at loggerheads with the new state. In February 1921, he informed the Prince Regent that the Croats “with their enormous republican majority cannot be one state with Serbia as long as Serbia is a Monarchy, precisely because Croatia is not, and Croatia as a thousand-year political, national [narodna], cultural and economic individuality has the right to not want that.”136 Not until 1920 did Radi� grasp that Croatian independence had no support in the international community. The party, which was renamed the Croat Republican Peasant Party (Hrvatska republička seljačka stranka, or HRSS) in December 1920, henceforth adopted a confederalist or federalist stance.137 Regarding national ideology, HRSS deputies wrote to the Prince Regent in February 1921 that all Slavs “are not only a linguistic but also a moral and spiritual whole,” with the reservation that Croats and Serbs “are not one people in the political sense of that word.”138 Radi�’s strong opposition to the state as it was then being constructed earned him several stints in prison as well as the opportunity during a trial in November 1920 to take public umbrage at those who would treat “the Croat people, as some ‘tribe,’ as if we were in Albania or perhaps even somewhere in the Middle Ages.”139

36  Making Yugoslavs

Slovene political leaders, although they shared the same Habsburg heritage as the Croats, took a more pragmatic approach to the formation of the Yugoslav state.140 Slovenes were a small population and had no state tradition upon which to draw; thus, striking out alone did not appeal to their elite. Interwar Italy included a large portion of presentday Slovenia, and significant Slovene minorities also existed in Austria and Hungary. Moreover, given the absence of a Serb minority in Slovenia, the Slovenes tended to experience Belgrade not as a threat but rather as a guarantor of security. The Croats under Radi� were fairly united in their anti-clericalism; the Slovenes, by contrast, were divided politically between clericalist and liberal groups.141 Anton Korošec’s conservative Catholic Slovenska ljudska stranka (Slovene People’s Party, or SLS), which dated back to the Habsburg period, played the dominant role.142 The SLS would undoubtedly have preferred to establish a Catholic-dominated Yugoslav state, but in the circumstances, it endeavoured to make the best of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. Korošec, himself an ordained priest, pursued a flexible policy that involved playing the Serbs and Croats against each other. Instead of mimicking Radi�’s oppositional and obstructionist stance, Korošec “carried out a two-track [policy], a ‘domestic’ one in Ljubljana, and a ‘high’ one in Belgrade, which became one of the main tactical weapons in the political struggles in Yugoslav politics between the two world wars.”143 The main Slovene opposition to the SLS came from liberals within the predominantly Serb Democratic Party, who disdained the clericalism and regionalism of the SLS and lent their support to the centralist forces in Belgrade: All those in Slovenia who at that time constituted the liberal camp believed that the hour of the great Yugoslav national synthesis had arrived with the advent of the Yugoslav state. This synthesis could be brought about by the transition of Slovene national, linguistic, and cultural identity into a new, higher, and historically more powerful national formation – into the community of the great Yugoslav nation, creating a civilized, cultural, anthropological, social, political, and economic whole.144

Given that they stood always ready to join the government in Belgrade, the Slovene liberals were a constant source of pressure on the SLS.145 Moving beyond the titular nations within the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, let us next consider the country’s large Muslim

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  37

communities. Owing to administrative borders and diverse historical processes, Muslims in Yugoslavia had no single identity. They could be found among Slavs, Albanians, Turks, and Roma.146 By the 1920s, few members of these groups except the Turks spoke Turkish, and even fewer spoke Arabic; thus, Muslims lacked a common cultural heritage beyond a broad identification with Sunni Islam. Political identities among Muslims in early interwar Yugoslavia were regionally defined. In Bosnia and Herzegovina, the Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija (Yugoslav Muslim Organization, or JMO), led by Mehmed Spaho, acted as the main political representative of Muslims.147 The JMO maintained that Bosnia and Herzegovina was a distinct entity within Yugoslavia. This exposed them to constant attacks, both rhetorical and (not rarely) physical. In February 1919, Reis-ul-Ulema Džemaludin Čauševi�, the spiritual leader of the Bosnian Muslim community, told a visiting French journalist that “thousands” of people had been killed and that “270 villages” had been plundered and destroyed. “That is the balance for us of the solemn creation of Yugoslavia, which we had prepared ourselves to serve with our soul. We are nonetheless Slavs, but the Serbs refuse to regard us as such. We are regarded as uljezi [parasites or intruders]. And others will in fact tell you that we are, on the contrary, the real people who belong to this country.”148 This was the bitter irony facing the Muslims: Serb and Croat nationalists insisted that the Slavic Muslims of Bosnia and Herzegovina were actually errant members of the Serb and Croat nations, respectively. In defending themselves against such attacks, JMO politicians engaged in a pliable and opportunistic style of politics that led their opponents to label them derisively as pehlivani (tightrope walkers).149 In the poor southeastern areas of the country, and especially in the Sandžak, the JMO’s influence yielded to that of the Cemiyet (or Džemijet, meaning “Society” or “Association”), a political conglomeration of Slavic, Albanian, and Turkish Muslims.150 “Cemiyet and the JMO ... agreed on some policy demands, but the fellow feeling between Bosnian Muslims and Albanians was not sufficiently strong for common action and a union of these parties failed. The differences of these two communities increased when the Serbian governments tried to Slavicize the Islamic institutions of Kosovo through the pro-Serbian Slavic Muslims.”151 In the protracted struggle surrounding the creation of the Yugoslav state, the JMO leaders entered into a compromise agreement with the Serb elites. In exchange for the support of Islamic institutions and customs, as well as moderation with regard to the treatment of Muslim

38  Making Yugoslavs

landowners in Bosnia and Herzegovina, the JMO agreed (crucially) to support the passage of the Vidovdan Constitution.152 The Faustian nature of this bargain became clear soon enough when the Yugoslav authorities took little notice of, and even less action against, Serb-led paramilitary forces that carried out waves of pogroms against Muslims in Bosnia and Herzegovina, the Sandžak, Kosovo, and Montenegro.153 This same period of looting and killing saw widespread efforts by Serb authorities to destroy what was left of the Ottoman cultural inheritance in Yugoslavia.154 Montenegrins found themselves in a special – but not especially enviable – position in the 1920s. The Kingdom of Montenegro had been absorbed by the Kingdom of Serbia after the First World War, as King Nikola of Montenegro absconded to Italy. This move greatly weakened Nikola’s already crumbling support in Montenegro, and he died in 1921. More importantly, from the vantage point of Serb nationalists, Nikola’s absence and the victorious return of the Serbian Army to Serbia made it possible to bring the Montenegrins “back” into the Serbian fold. For Serbian leaders, Montenegrins were a “tribal” or at most a regional identity within Serbdom. Yet throughout the interwar period, a significant part of the Montenegrin population – known as the zelenaši (Greens) – continued to support a distinct and autonomous Montenegrin national identity.155 “Indeed, the situation in Montenegro from 1919 to the mid-1920s amounted to a state of war, as the insurgents commandeered trains, robbed banks, and fought pitched battles with the army and the Whites.”156 The governments of interwar Yugoslavia viewed Yugoslav (Vardar) Macedonia as the southern part of Serbia. In practice, Vardar Macedonia was a giant reserve pool of patronage for Serb political parties – and, to a great extent, for the army as well.157 This had been the case in the brief period of Serbian rule between the end of the Balkan Wars and the First World War, and it became the rule again for the 1920s. Bereft of political representation, a belligerent minority of Macedonia’s inhabitants resorted to extra-parliamentary means. Their anger and resentment fuelled the terrorist Vnatrešna makedonska revolucionerna organizacija (VMRO, or Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization), whose members, when not bloodily settling internal scores, carried out frequent attacks on Serb officials.158 The non-Slavic minorities of Yugoslavia also had little voice in the political process.159 The Hungarian, German, Albanian, Romanian, Turkish, and other minorities sought to preserve their distinct identities,

The Formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes  39

and this put them squarely at odds with the nationalizing tendencies of the interwar Yugoslav state.160 Yugoslav politicians resented the treaty provisions they had been forced to sign regarding minority rights after the First World War and did little to enforce them. “The basis for the entire treatment of national minorities in interwar Yugoslavia was the opinion of all three constituent [državotvorni] nations that the minority population (with the exception of the relatively innumerous Slav minorities) had come to Yugoslav territory as a usurper. Moreover, in its great majority it did not consist of real minorities, but rather of denationalized [obnarođeni] members of the Yugoslav peoples.”161 This somewhat confused state position in effect both claimed and rejected minority groups and thus allowed for neither full exclusion nor full assimilation of them. In virtually all important aspects of life, from the compilation of the census to schools and local administration, the lot of minorities in Yugoslavia left much to be desired.162 When examining minority politics in interwar Yugoslavia, one must differentiate to some extent between minorities in the northwest of the country and those in the southeast. In formerly Habsburg areas, the sheer numbers of ethnic Germans and ethnic Hungarians compelled the state to allow significant cultural rights, however grudgingly. This was much less the case in areas that the Ottoman Empire had controlled until the Balkan Wars. In Kosovo, Macedonia, and the Sandžak, successive interwar Yugoslav governments pursued a program of “colonization” – that is, the resettling of ethnic Serbs from other parts of Yugoslavia in an effort to restore the supposed ethnic status quo ante of the pre-Ottoman southern Balkans.163 A resettlement program that encouraged ethnic Turks (and some non-Turkic Muslims) to immigrate to Turkey complemented the colonization program. Other, smaller minorities, such as the Roma and the Vlachs, faced both assimilation and discrimination. Any overview of the national question must consider its interplay with Yugoslavia’s severe socio-economic problems.164 During the 1920s – and in some respects throughout the interwar period – Yugoslavia effectively had several distinct economies. All were predominantly agrarian, but in the northwest, in Slovenia and Croatia, the peasant farmers were more advanced and hence more prosperous than in the southeast. In Bosnia and Herzegovina, the immediate postwar period saw a pitched struggle between Christian (mostly Serb) peasants and large Muslim landowners. Vigilantism and extrajudicial land seizures against Muslim landlords significantly sharpened interethnic tensions.

40  Making Yugoslavs

The fragile deal that the Muslim landowners had struck with the Serb political parties allowing the latter to pass the Vidovdan Constitution was merely the most obvious example of how the national question subsumed all discussions of economics in Yugoslavia. According to historian Jozo Tomasevich, “constitutional (national) and other primarily political issues used up so much energy and created so much ill feeling in the country that little time and energy remained for proper consideration or solution of the pressing economic and social issues … As the productive forces of the country were insufficiently developed, the state was not only the chief employer of all salaried people, but also the most important and the quickest source of enrichment.” Furthermore, “by incensing the peasants with prejudice against members of other nations, religions, or political views, they were able to draw attention from basic issues of social and economic significance and present themselves as the protectors of their political and other interests.”165 On 28 June 1921, seven years to the day after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo, 223 of 285 delegates in attendance at the Constitutional Assembly ratified the Vidovdan Constitution.166 The Radicals and the Democrats, supported by the JMO, voted in favour, while a small group of Agrarians, Republicans, and Social Democrats, along with various others (including Trumbi�), voted against. Yet the vote was much narrower when the entire composition of the Constitutional Assembly was taken into consideration. The real story of the day was that an enormous block of 161 delegates from the HRSS and the Slovene Clericals had boycotted the vote. The symbolism of Vidovdan, identified not only with the 1914 assassination but also more importantly with the Battle of Kosovo in 1389, sent an unfortunate message “that the constitution represented the final triumph of Serb national ideology.”167 As events of the following years would show, the passage of the Vidovdan Constitution amounted to a Pyrrhic victory. Indeed, as Slobodan Jovanovi� later wryly noted, a historical mistake was in some ways repeating itself, in that those parties which supported the constitution were not simply aligned against other political parties but were also in opposition to Croat public opinion as expressed by Radi�’s party. “That was a popular movement, similar to our radical movement of the [18]80s. Against such movements ordinary parliamentary tactics do not help. In the struggle with the Croats Paši� committed the same error as had King Milan in his struggle with the Radicals: he thought that he was up against a party when he was up against a people.”168

2  “A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”: The 1920s in the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes

All of the major political debates of the 1920s were conducted within the flawed framework of the Vidovdan Constitution. In the end, 53 per cent of the Constitutional Assembly had supported the constitution, but this bare majority was opposed by several strong constituencies, led by the Croats. It is no surprise, then, that discord persisted in the years that followed. In less than a decade, the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes experienced more than twenty political crises during which the government either risked falling or actually did so, and not a single government served out a full parliamentary mandate. By 1929, the system was so thoroughly discredited that even its most prominent architects and advocates turned against it. The Vidovdan structure was a slightly refined version of the pre1914 Serbian constitutional monarchy, itself hardly a model of a strong parliamentary system.1 At the pinnacle of the Vidovdan system stood the king, who had the power to dismiss and appoint prime ministers. Nothing in the constitution compelled him to appoint a prime minister from a majority party. Regarding checks and balances, the parliament and the king shared legislative power, at least in theory. In practice, however, the king could reject any legislation that displeased him, although he could not unilaterally implement legislation without the parliament. He also enjoyed total freedom to set the kingdom’s foreign policy. These constitutional powers, when combined with the king’s role as commander-in-chief of the armed forces, made it clear to all who was in control. Scholars of all stripes agree that King Aleksandar freely used the powers granted to him, with the consequence that he played a decisive role in twenty-one of the twenty-three “ministerial crises” during the parliamentary era of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats,

42  Making Yugoslavs

and Slovenes.2 As Mark Biondich has noted, King Aleksandar was “the ultimate arbiter of the Yugoslav political system.”3 According to Jozo Tomasevich, Aleksandar exhibited a “dictatorial proclivity … ‘The confidence of the Crown’ was the most important asset needed for a politician to prosper in the Alexandrine period.”4 Branislav Gligorijevi� concluded that “in fact, a tense struggle between the parties in government and the parties in opposition most suited the king, since he would then come to a position in which he could, under the pretence that the political parties could not agree amongst themselves, seek a solution outside Parliament.”5 In addition to all this, the legislature had its own problems. The system for electing deputies to the Skupština (Assembly) in Belgrade heavily favoured those parts of the kingdom that had until 1918 belonged to the Kingdom of Serbia. All of the elections held in the 1920s took as a given the census results from 1910, even though a new census had been conducted in 1921. This was intended to factor in the terrible demographic losses that Serbia had suffered during the First World War. “The result of such an electoral system was that the parliaments always had a numerical majority of Serb deputies.”6 The Vidovdan system also changed the kingdom’s administrative map. In place of the previous administrative borders inherited from the pre-war era, there were now thirty-three oblasti (regions). The territory of Croatia, Slavonia, and Dalmatia was now comprised of six oblasti. Other parts of the country had similarly been affected, and the boundaries by and large did not combine historically “Croatian” territories with others; even so, the Croat political elite tended to see the new map as a slighting of historical boundaries. Strengthening this impression, the Croatian Sabor (Parliament) no longer existed, and all decision making was now centralized in Belgrade.7 After Aleksandar, who became king upon the death of his father King Petar on 16 August 1921, the most important political figure continued to be Nikola Paši�, who served as prime minister from January 1921 until July 1924.8 The first half of the 1920s featured an uneasy political cohabitation between these two major forces in Serbian politics. The king and the Radicals shared a proprietary attitude towards the state. Although the Radicals had been founded as a reformist party that opposed autocracy, by the 1920s they had become a political machine that thrived on clientelist politics.9 The party distributed sinecures and privileges with abandon to friends and family, all the while marginalizing and neglecting its loyal but woefully ignorant peasant constituents.10

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  43

The hegemonic and deeply corrupt governance style of the Radical Party did nothing, of course, to heal the wounds left by the battle over the Vidovdan Constitution. Generally speaking, the Serb portion of the bureaucracy “proved simply incapable of expanding their outlook from Serbian to Yugoslav horizons.”11 In reaction, a loose and unstable multiethnic coalition slowly took shape to oppose the Radicals’ hegemony. This group included the Croat Republican Peasant Party (HRSS), the Slovene People’s Party (SLS), the Yugoslav Muslim Organization (JMO), the Serbian Agrarians, and a growing number of prominent members of the Democratic Party. Luckily for Nikola Paši�, these parties despised one another only slightly less than they hated the Radicals. Except for an insignificant minority of liberal politicians such as Dragoljub Jovanovi�, a Serbian Agrarian leader, few advocated fundamental reforms to how politics was conducted. On the contrary, the political rhetoric of the opposition in the early 1920s too often tended to leave the impression that the problem wasn’t the system itself, but the fact that the opposition parties didn’t control it. Politically, the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes was deeply divided after the promulgation of the Vidovdan Constitution. This was felt not only among the parties represented in the parliament in Belgrade, but even more among supporters of two very popular parties whose political platforms were perceived by King Aleksandar to be anti-state: the Komunistička partija Jugoslavije (Communist Party of Yugoslavia, or KPJ) and the HRSS. Neither was represented in the Skupština. From 1919 to 1921, the KPJ operated legally,12 although the police often repressed its activities. The Communists’ identification with Bolshevik Russia and the revolution of Béla Kun in Hungary put the authorities of the nascent Yugoslav state on edge. Even more worryingly, the Communists performed very well in the municipal elections of 1920. In Macedonia and Montenegro, where few parties had been organized on a national or religious confessional basis, the KPJ achieved its best results, as a party of protest.13 The state attempted to annul the results through procedural manipulations and by arresting those who had been elected. This was made easier by the KPJ’s refusal to swear the oath of allegiance to the throne required of parliamentary deputies.14 The KPJ responded with strikes, which led to growing violence between supporters of the Communists and the police and army. Matters came to a head after a miners’ strike in Bosnia was suppressed on 27 December 1920. Shortly afterwards, the government issued an

44  Making Yugoslavs

obznana (proclamation) banning the Communist Party.15 This devastated the KPJ, which never recovered. Desperate young Communists acting on their own attempted to assassinate Prince Regent Aleksandar on 29 June 1921, the day after the Vidovdan Constitution was promulgated; they failed, but a few weeks later, on 21 July, they succeeded in killing the former Minister of Internal Affairs, Milorad Draškovi�. These quixotic acts of terrorism cemented the state’s resolve, and on 2 August it passed the draconian Law on the Protection of Public Security and Order in the State (colloquially known as the Law on the Protection of the State). The KPJ remained banned, and crippled by both factionalism and police repression, until the end of the interwar period. While the Law on the Protection of the State was aimed directly on the Communists, it had much broader consequences. Its language forbidding insults to the state or “demoralization” was broad enough to apply to other political movements.16 This placed a formidable weapon in the state’s repressive arsenal; it also sent a strong signal that the state was prepared to act decisively against any political forces that did not accept the constitutional order. This message was clearly intended for Stjepan Radi� and his Croat Republican Peasant Party. Radi� had chosen to read his party’s impressive election performance in November 1920 as “a national plebiscite for a Croatian republic, and whereas the party refused formally to proclaim the existence of this republic, it nevertheless considered the vote as the right to do so.”17 From the perspective of the Royal Court and most political parties in Serbia, republicanism was completely beyond the pale of political acceptability. Although probably intended more as a bargaining chip than as an ultimatum, the unveiling by the HRSS in June 1921 of a draft constitution for a neutral Croatian peasant republic that would exist in a loose confederation with Slovenia, Serbia, and Bosnia and Herzegovina fed suspicion in Belgrade.18 Everyone knew that a successful challenge to the Radicals would have to involve Stjepan Radi� and his HRSS, but the Croats continued to boycott the parliament. “After 1921 the only solution to the existing political crisis, as far as Radi� was concerned, was for the Serbian political establishment to recognize Croat political and state individuality [...] Radi� told Proti� that the Croat nation’s political individuality had to be respected because Croats ‘are not and will not be anyone’s tribe, nor are we just a part of some [trinomial Yugoslav] nation.’”19 After a Croat Bloc of Croat political parties was formed in the summer and autumn of 1921, a seemingly unbridgeable gap remained

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  45

between the Bloc and the other, non-Croat, opposition parties. The latter looked on the Croat juggernaut and its support for republicanism with ill-disguised anxiety and suspicion, and the harsh legal mechanisms available to the state dissuaded others from engaging with the HRSS. Yet as the elections of March 1923 showed, the state possessed no method of loosening the HRSS’s widespread support among Croat peasants. Indeed, the HRSS had more than doubled its popular vote, penetrated for the first time significantly into Dalmatia, and garnered an extra twenty parliamentary deputies.20 Try as they might, the Radical government in Belgrade and the Royal Court could not wish away the HRSS any more than Radi� could wish away the dominance of the Radicals in Serbia.21 For the first three years of the Vidovdan system, the kingdom was thus divided between a clientelist state controlled by the Radical Party and an intractable extra-parliamentary opposition embodied by the HRSS. The combination of the impressive HRSS election result in 1923 and increasing frustration with the Radicals and Prime Minister Nikola Paši� led the loyal opposition to extend feelers to the HRSS.22 The HRSS, the JMO, and the SLS reached a tentative agreement to propose a less centralist state structure. In April 1923, this “federalist bloc” succeeded in getting the Radicals to agree to negotiations. The talks were the most important since the negotiations leading up to the Vidovdan Constitution, but they quickly stumbled over the crucial question of Croatia’s status. In the event, Radi�’s colourful and often crude rhetoric, his continuing flirtation with republicanism, and a disastrously timed appeal to Italy gave the Radicals ample cause to suspend negotiations. Radi� was forced to flee the country when it emerged that a close associate had been involved in a treasonous plot.23 In February 1924, while still outside Yugoslavia, Radi� decided to engage with Belgrade by sending the HRSS deputies elected in 1923 to take their seats in parliament.24 This move was coupled with intensifying negotiations with other opposition parties. Radi� continued to resurface in a succession of European capitals; this tour culminated in a controversial visit to the Soviet Union in 1924, during which the HRSS became a member of the Peasant International (Krest’intern). Radi� felt buoyed that the HRSS had been recognized by the Peasant International, but he did not attempt to forge a common front with the still illegal KPJ.25 Even so, the trip to Moscow had left the HRSS vulnerable again to charges of anti-state activity. Given King Aleksandar’s staunch anti-communism, Radi�’s Moscow gambit contributed greatly

46  Making Yugoslavs

to the doubts already present in the monarch’s mind about the loyalty of Croat political leaders. Meanwhile in Yugoslavia, efforts by the remnants of the federalist bloc after the election to form a government with the Democrats failed because of antagonism between Ljubomir Davidovi�, the party leader, and the Croatian Serb wing of the party led by Svetozar Pribi�evi�. As the Radicals had done so many times before, they rebounded by unveiling a new government under their firm control in March 1924. This proved possible only because Pribi�evi� and his supporters had deserted the Democrats and formed the Samostalna demokratska stranka (Independent Democratic Party, or SDS). Together with the Radicals, the SDS wanted at all costs to prevent the verification of the HRSS deputies. The government formed in March 1924 was the seventh led by Nikola Paši� since 1921, but this time there was a key difference: this was a minority government, one that did not represent the parliamentary majority. This led to a crisis that consumed the better part of 1924, with the Radicals pitted against the Democrats and the rest of the opposition. The Democrats in particular felt that King Aleksandar’s support for a Paši�–Pribi�evi� government threatened the throne’s very legitimacy. Thus, they began to pressure him to drop his support for the government and to modify the constitution. King Aleksandar, meanwhile, worried that the Democratic Party, although publicly loyal to the Vidovdan Constitution, might be tempted to join forces with the anticonstitutional HRSS against the Radicals.26 When the Paši�–Pribi�evi� minority government fell on 12 April, the king gave Davidovi� the mandate to form a new government. However, Davidovi� found it impossible to do so: relations between the Democrats and the Radicals were venomous, and the HRSS, eager for new elections, was not yet ready to join a pro-Vidovdan “concentrated” government.27 Despite Davidovi�’s warnings to the king that another Radical government could drive the SLS, the JMO, and perhaps even the Democrats into the anti-constitutional republican camp of the HRSS, Aleksandar on 5 May entrusted the formation of a new government to Paši�.28 This political battle saw temperatures rise to feverish levels. The parliamentary crisis of 1924 can be viewed in hindsight as a dress rehearsal for the collapse of the Vidovdan system in 1928, so it is worth exploring. “The bearer of that system, King Aleksandar, characterized this crisis [of 1924] as the most difficult in the political life of the Kingdom

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  47

of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, much more difficult than the crisis of 1928.”29 All of the main elements in play in 1928 were there in 1924 as well: calls for a “neutral” leader with or without a government of national “concentration,” accusations of tribal hatred, warnings of civil war, and so forth. The main difference between the two crises was that after August 1928, neither Radi� nor Paši�, respectively the dominant Croat and Serb political leaders, was around anymore. One sign among many of the Yugoslav system’s instability in the 1920s was the frequency with which the press ran articles warning about dictatorship. Demokratija, the newspaper of the Democrats, often carried front-page editorials contemplating alternatives to a system that, in their view, the Radicals had succeeded in monopolizing. The Democrats also accused the Radicals of appropriating King Aleksandar, the dynasty, and – through the “National Bloc” – the entire state. The opposition bloc even described the appointment of the Paši�–Pribi�evi� government in May as tantamount to a coup d’état.30 For the Democrats, this had been yet another step towards “unconstitutionality and illegality,” one that had strengthened the “personal regime” of Paši�.31 In this context, a royal dictatorship would have represented the ouster, not of democracy, but rather of a dictatorship of the Radical Party.32 The Democrats described that party as preparing an “oligarchic dictatorship, which will smother freedom and civil rights in blood.”33 However, the Democrats retained their confidence in the country’s democratic spirit, insisting there would be no “Mussolini” in Yugoslavia.34 Over the next few months, Yugoslavia teetered on the precipice of a royal dictatorship. When the Skupština at the end of May 1924 verified the mandates of the HRSS, the Radicals were no longer a parliamentary majority. To avoid the inevitable vote of no confidence in what was now clearly a minority government, Aleksandar immediately prorogued parliament. This infuriated the opposition, which questioned the constitutionality of the move. By July 1924, even Paši� was petitioning the king to call new elections, thus temporarily aligning all of the parliamentary parties in support of new elections. Aleksandar, still fearing an opposition victory or even civil war, again rejected this option and held out for a concentration cabinet.35 Finally sensing the futility of that option, he called on Davidovi� to form a government. On 27 July, Davidovi� took office as the prime minister of a Democrat–JMO– SLS coalition. Importantly, Davidovi�  – apparently with the king’s blessing – immediately invited the HRSS to join the government, which he wanted to be a “government of harmony.”36 Four ministerial portfolios

48  Making Yugoslavs

were left vacant for the HRSS, which, with the resignation of the Paši�– Pribi�evi� government, had stopped boycotting the work of the parliament. Paši�, outraged by this, called for Aleksandar to use the Law on the Protection of the State to prevent any cooperation between the government and the “communist” HRSS.37 In August 1924, Stjepan Radi� returned to Yugoslavia and declared himself ready to participate in the government coalition. In return, Davidovi� agreed to re-establish the pokrajinska uprava (regional administration) for Croatia-Slavonia that the Vidovdan Constitution had voided and to permit the display of Croatian national symbols. At the same time, though, Aleksandar let it be known that without the presence of the main Serb party – the Radicals – in the government, the Democrats had no mandate to undertake any major changes to the constitution.38 On 15 September, the HRSS voted formally to join the Davidovi� government and received four ministerial portfolios. The Democrats maintained that they were paving the way to true Yugoslav unity, a project that had been blocked by the insistence of the Radicals and Pribi�evi� on rigid centralism. Demokratija, the newspaper of the Democrats, opined that today our state and national unity resembles an unhappy marriage, which Pribi�evi�’s state and the monarchy needs to maintain through church dogma and force, without at all taking the spouse’s wishes into account … The state and national unity of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes is for us a dogma, but you cannot in its name carry out despotism on those who do not think like we do. They must be persuaded with reason, and not with violence.39

The Radicals and (to a lesser extent) the king feared the new government. The Radicals, out of government for the first time since 1920, saw their power monopoly under assault. Worse, they found themselves the targets of government promises to launch a sweeping investigation of corruption.40 They lashed out at “Bolsheviks and separatists” being appointed ministers.41 From the king’s perspective, the government was drifting much too close to federalism and republicanism. Yet neither the Radicals nor the king could at this point topple the Davidovi� government without themselves being accused of unconstitutionalism. By conferring behind the government’s back, the Radicals and the king fostered an atmosphere of paranoia, especially with regard to the supposed treason of the HRSS.42

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  49

Davidovi� tried hard but in vain to stabilize the situation by soliciting a public renouncement of republicanism from Radi�. During the second half of September, Radi� did indeed seem ready to make such a statement and to meet with the king.43 But then, instead of doing so, Radi� on 5 October gave a speech on the military and on Yugoslav policy towards Albania.44 This provided the king and the Radicals with the excuse they needed to act against the government. In response to Radi�’s “pacifist” and “defeatist” comments, the Minister of the Army, General Stevan Hadži�, prodded by the king, resigned three days later. “It is characteristic that General Hadži� brought his resignation to the king, and only then informed the prime minister about this. It was clear that the minister of the army resigned on the demand of the king, who had at all costs wanted to provoke a crisis in the government.”45 The writing was on the wall, and a week later the king asked for and received a letter containing the resignation of Davidovi�’s government.46 The government continued to enjoy a majority in the parliament, but Davidovi� believed he could not govern if he did not also have the king’s support.47 Commenting on the king’s tactics, the British minister wrote that “His Majesty’s actions, so far as a foreigner can see, can only be explained by his real apprehension that the military classes, worked on by the Pasic–Pribicevic party, would no longer tolerate the ascendancy of Radic, with his pacifism or defeatism, as it is now called, and his insolences, and would effect a coup d’État, of which the dynasty must either be the accomplices or the victim.”48 Despite the setback, Davidovi� continued to hedge his bets. He remained acting prime minister, and in his letter of resignation, he held out hope that the crisis would allow for movement towards “the goal of broadening the base for the continuation of our politics to date of peace, order, law, a struggle against corruption, and a final agreement of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes.”49 He also believed that Radi� could clarify and qualify his comments in a way that would heal the wounds caused by his earlier speeches and that a position of responsibility would moderate the HRSS. Yet Radi� continued to torpedo the government by openly attacking both the Radicals and the Royal Court, while simultaneously refusing to issue any concrete positive program except for vague promises of concessions and an agreement between Serbs and Croats.50 On 17 October, the leaders of all the main parliamentary parties except the HRSS began meeting with the king. More certain than ever that the HRSS members were Bolshevik seditionists, the king showed no

50  Making Yugoslavs

inclination to compromise with the Croats. Indeed, he sought to have Radi� arrested.51 The Opposition Bloc, meanwhile, remained adamant that no agreement was possible with the Radicals, since that party consistently demanded humiliating concessions as the prerequisite to any compromise. It was, though, willing to entertain agreements with Radical leaders other than Paši�. On 20 October, the Radical Ljubo Jovanovi� was elected president of the Skupština, with HRSS member Vladko Maček as one of the two vice-presidents, even though the opposition bloc had enough votes to elect one of their own members to the presidency. This gesture of compromise notwithstanding, some Radicals spread rumours about an impending military coup. To make matters even more untenable for Davidovi�, Radi� publicly stated that the Democrats were flirting with the court’s “camarilla.” On 23 October, Radi� also hinted that the Soviet Union would respond to a coup with military force.52 Livid, the king demanded that the opposition bloc immediately stop cooperating with the HRSS. Reluctantly, the opposition bloc did so.53 This left the ship of state temporarily anchored at the exact same dock from which it had hesitatingly sailed in the spring of 1924. Yet everyone on board was undoubtedly worse off in the aftermath of the year’s political storm, and ominous clouds hung on the horizon. The police, under pressure from the army and the king, and using Radi�’s more careless pro-Bolshevik statements as a warrant, immediately began cracking down on the HRSS. The resulting student protests, at the universities in both Zagreb and Belgrade, did nothing to weaken the prosecutorial drive of the authorities. By the end of the year, a new Obznana, this time against the HRSS, had appeared, and that party’s main leaders, including Stjepan Radi�, were behind bars.54 The Radicals, despite cries of protest from the Slovene, Bosnian Muslim, and Serb opposition parties, were determined to eliminate the HRSS by charging its leaders with communism and treason. The crisis of 1924 offered fleeting openings to address the structural problems of the Vidovdan system. On the face of it, a bitter parliamentary struggle had been fought over the fate of an unpopular and probably unconstitutional minority government. In reality, however, the entire battle had been, in the words of the British minister in Belgrade, “an attractive façade to the struggle between Serbism and Croatism.”55 At stake were fundamental issues of state. Should the centralizing Vidovdan Constitution continue, or should solutions of autonomy, federalism, or confederalism be pursued? Some Serbs, as represented by

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  51

the Democrats, had moved cautiously in the direction of compromising with the Croats, but the stubborn politics of Stjepan Radi� and the HRSS seemed to be repelling more supporters than they could attract.56 In this situation, “social and national aims became intertwined and inseparable.”57 The events of 1924 also raised the question of the king’s proper role in Yugoslav parliamentary democracy. According to Gligorijevi�, the crisis “fed the tendencies of the king toward the destruction of the parliamentary system and an introduction of a personal regime.”58 The entire episode demonstrated a vicious circle: the instability of the polity tempted some parties to seek the help of the king, which led to a further weakening of the parliamentary system. “The king’s right to call elections and to dissolve the Skupština of necessity made the political parties subject to him. This was because they could come to power not only by receiving the greatest number of votes at elections, but could also, through a dissolution of the Skupština and the calling of elections, stay in power even when they had no parliamentary majority.”59 All of the major political parties succumbed to this temptation, and all of them compromised themselves to some extent because of it. “Aleksandar’s actions in 1924 set an ominous precedent for the future.”60 In this sense, the protracted spectacle had produced no clear winners. Sliding towards the Abyss The events of 1925 made all of this even clearer. The February 1925 elections illustrated that repression of the HRSS by the state and the Radicals resolved nothing. The Radicals and the Independent Democrats achieved their best election results ever. But despite police, military, and paramilitary harassment, and despite massive fraud by electoral officials, the now illegal HRSS received enough votes to preserve its status as the second most powerful party in the country and as the undisputed voice of the Croats.61 The state could imprison Radi� and thereby temporarily remove him from politics, but it could not break his iron grip on the Croat electorate. In this respect, the campaign against Radi� had the aura of a continued attempt to ignore Yugoslavia’s political reality. “The very fact that the government permitted the HRSS to run candidates in the elections demonstrate[d] that it was not prepared to carry the Obznana to its logical conclusion, as had been the case with the communists in 1921.”62 Other parties, such as the SLS and the JMO, while often frustrated by Radi�’s eccentricities, “felt obliged

52  Making Yugoslavs

to maintain their contact with him,” fearing he would otherwise “capture their peasant constituencies, so attractive [were] that leader’s own slogans to the agrarian classes.”63 Belatedly admitting the obvious, the Royal Court again began extending feelers to the HRSS.64 This time around, the HRSS acted in a conciliatory manner, thus granting the Yugoslav parliamentary system a temporary reprieve. On 27 March 1925, Pavle Radi�, the nephew of Stjepan, gave an astonishing proxy speech in which the HRSS finally accepted the legitimacy of the Yugoslav state as conceived in the Vidovdan Constitution. The party dropped “republican” from its name, becoming the Hrvatska seljačka stranka (Croat Peasant Party, or HSS). “The idea of the neutral Croat peasant republic was finally dead.”65 In July 1925, Stjepan Radi� was released from prison. In a move that left his former political allies in the Serb opposition and the public at large flabbergasted, the HSS joined a government led by Nikola Paši�. In November 1925, Radi� was named Minister of Education in the Paši� government, and the HSS held five ministerial portfolios. With the Radicals and the HSS together in a coalition government, the path to Serbo-Croatian political cooperation finally seemed clear. Radi� emphasized that his party had entered the government as Croats rather than as Yugoslavs, but he hoped for a “complete reconciliation of Serbs and Croats, as opposed to nationalist Yugoslavism, which means the imposition of something on Croats.”66 In hindsight, though, the year between March 1925 and March 1926 was the exception that proved the rule. Radi�’s participation in government proved turbulent; indeed, some of his followers were so unhappy that they left the HSS. Moreover, the Obznana technically remained in effect until January 1927, which points to the disingenuousness of the Radicals’ cooperation with the HSS. Paši� and most of the Radical leaders felt uncomfortable governing with the HSS. The Radicals barely tolerated HSS calls for limited local self-government, parity in taxation between Serbia and Croatia, and investigations into corruption. In April 1926, shortly after Nikola Uzunovi� formed the first non-Paši� Radical government, Radi� was dismissed from his ministerial post after criticizing the Radicals’ financial misconduct. Yet the Radicals quickly began to lose their cohesion.67 They came under increasing pressure to eliminate the corrupt practices that had become their standard practice. Even Paši�’s son Radomir faced an investigation, which the king, tiring of Paši�, supported.68 In December 1926, at the age of eighty, Nikola Paši� died. Although consumed by the corruption scandal around his son, Paši� had, literally

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  53

to his dying day, never stopped trying to form yet another government. His passing left a vacuum in the Serbian part of the Yugoslav political scene. Where Serbo-Croat relations were concerned, however, his death may have stabilized the situation in the short term, for it removed the figure with whom Radi� had found it most difficult to work.69 The Radicals, already wounded by infighting and attacks on party corruption, never recovered from Paši�’s death. The instability of the Radicals and their continued deep suspicion of Radi� ruined the HSS’s chance for a more productive period of cooperation sans Paši�. As factional struggles weakened the Radicals, and as Nikola Uzunovi� went through governments in rapid succession, the role of the Court increased. In April 1927, King Aleksandar accepted the resignation of the latest Uzunovi� government. The Radical Velimir Vuki�evi� was given the mandate to form a new government, which was meant to serve as placeholder until elections could be held. The result was a coalition of the Radicals and the JMO. Immediately after this government was formed, the king dissolved parliament and called elections for September. During the campaign, Vuki�evi� declared that the alternative to a victory by his Radical coalition would be a dictatorship.70 In the elections of 11 September 1927, the Radicals captured around one-third of the vote and thus emerged with enough seats to continue to govern.71 Afterwards, Vuki�evi� formed a new government that included the JMO and the SLS. The opposition was unhappy with the Vuki�evi� government, seeing it as an attempt by the Court to create a “fourth party” that would be more loyal than the dominant three: the Radicals, the HSS, and the Democrats.72 Many in the government and in the opposition viewed Vuki�evi� as a marionette of the Court. The Radicals were “factionalized beyond repair [...] By promoting and exploiting these differences, and thereby weakening the Serbian parties, Aleksandar emerged as the arbiter of the country’s political fate.”73 Pribi�evi� described the Vuki�evi� governments as a “step towards dictatorship.”74 Judging from the tirades often unleashed in the Skupština, the situation remained far from stable. One such episode occurred during a discussion about taxation on 4 November 1927. During the debate, opposition and government deputies alike escalated their insults. The bone of contention was the geographic distribution of the tax burden. The opposition alleged that, whereas the average Serb and Montenegrin paid 407 dinars in tax per year, the burden for Bosnians and

54  Making Yugoslavs

Herzegovinians was 536 dinars, for Dalmatians 349 dinars, for residents of Croatia and Slavonia 702 dinars, for Slovenes 1,035 dinars, and for residents of Vojvodina 1,118 dinars.75 No one bothered to discuss the finer economic points of this argument, such as the possibility that the higher tax burden in the northwest could be explained at least in part by higher income levels.76 Instead, the opposition, led by Stjepan Radi�, immediately jumped to accusations that “Serbia” and “Serbs” – or “hajduci” (highway robbers) and “boljševici odozgo” (Bolsheviks from above), to quote Radi� – were “stealing” from or “plundering” the formerly Habsburg areas of the country, an accusation that infuriated government MPs. Most worryingly, many MPs on both sides wrapped their diatribes in threats of physical violence. This was amply illustrated by a fiery exchange between Stjepan Radi�, the Radical Minister of Posts Vlajko Koci�, and the Montenegrin federalist leader Sekula Drljevi�. Words and phrases such as “bandits,” “the minister is threatening beatings,” “bullets,” and “there will be blood” were hurled across the floor of parliament. Events would soon show that little space separated rhetorical bullets from real ones.77 In this heated political environment, Radi� and Davidovi� tried but failed to form a “Democratic Bloc.” In November 1927, a month after this effort collapsed, Radi� again demonstrated his ability to astonish. In a joint proclamation with his former arch-enemy Svetozar Pribi�evi�, Radi� announced the establishment of the Seljačko-demokratska koalicija (Peasant-Democratic Coalition, or SDK) between the HSS and the SDS. Pribi�evi� then renounced the same centralist system that he had been instrumental in devising and implementing. The leaders of the Croats and the Croatian Serbs were now united politically, although many doubted this would last. For now, parliament was divided into two broad camps: the prečani SDK and the Serbian Radicals.78 Radi� continued to hope that the mainly Serbian Democrats would join the SDK, thus broadening the “prečani front” to the whole country. Lingering antipathy between Davidovi� and Pribi�evi�, and pressure from the Court, kept this from happening.79 In the meantime, the SDK pushed ahead with reforms, focusing on anti-corruption measures and on economic parity for the “prečani” areas of the kingdom. Instead of immediately seeking to revise the constitution, the SDK initially “simply called for the full implementation of the Vidovdan constitution.”80 The coalition asserted that “Serb hegemony” had brought the country to the brink of ruin and dictatorship through corruption, mismanagement, and authoritarian rule.

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This stance seemed to convince King Aleksandar, and on 9 February he entrusted Radi� with the mandate to form a government. Radi� was the first non-Serb to hold that mandate, but within two days, he became convinced that he could not form a stable majority government and returned the mandate to the king. The sincerity of the king’s intentions at this point are a major point of debate in the historiography. Mark Biondich offers the most plausible explanation – that the king handed the mandate to Radi� in a bid to encourage a rapprochement between the Vuki�evi�-led Radicals and the HSS, thereby breaking the SDK.81 There followed a blizzard of mandates, with both Democrats and Radicals given chances to construct a government. It was during this period that talk of a dictatorship reached its peak. Radi� called for a concentrated government under a “neutral” individual, preferably one strong enough to resist “Serb hegemony.”82 Meanwhile, the SDK began pressing for constitutional reform. The tone of the debate and the names being mentioned in Belgrade at the time made it clear that the most likely “neutral individual” would be a Serb military officer. Radi� had to be aware of this, and thus his call in some ways seemed strangely masochistic. Biondich, in his biography of Radi�, refers to it as “one of Radi�’s greatest blunders.”83 Radi�’s move must be seen in the context of the Croat leader’s respect for the Serb peasant nation and his simultaneous loathing of Serb politicians. In January 1927, Radi� had stated that conciliation with the Serbs was possible and had asked Croats not to let the corruption scandals and other abuses affect “our relationship towards the Serb people, or Serb parties or even the Radical Party.”84 A year later, Radi�, who never abandoned the concept of the peasant state, explained in a major speech in February 1928 that the neutral government would be “against the Great Serbian parties, which in their partisanship and in the resolution of this crisis place themselves above the parliament and the will of the people and the state.”85 For Radi�, the “healthiest” elements in the nation were to be found in the officer corps and in the peasantry.86 In an audience with King Aleksandar the same month, Radi� therefore supported the idea of a leader chosen from outside the ranks of parliamentary politicians.87 But Radi�’s proposal for a neutral leader was a dangerous one, for it risked alienating the more moderate Serb politicians such as Davidovi�, who were most prepared to compromise with the Croats. Davidovi� and many other Serb politicians strongly opposed the idea of a dictatorship. Also, given the complicated role of the military in Serbian

56  Making Yugoslavs

history – one need only mention the Black Hand and the White Hand – the appointment of a general seemed more likely to lead to a politicization of the military and to the militarization of society than to a “recovery” of full parliamentary democracy.88 Indeed, Radi� himself stated that the king had told him: “I have held – and hold – the military far from daily politics. The military serves and must serve great national and state goals … I admit that a concentration of all parliamentary parties is perhaps the only way in which these current great tasks will be able to be resolved. I am going to investigate this matter further, but basically I am ready to seek such a [military] candidate with the express task of leading a definite program. After that the parliamentary parties will find a leader in parliament and continue to work under parliamentary leadership. I would by no means want for anything of party politics to cross over into the military.”89

Some prominent Radical politicians began to support Radi�’s call for a dictatorship, although they remained a minority in their own party. Božidar Maksimovi�, Velimir Popovi�, and Milan Srški� all came out in favour of such a regime.90 As in 1924, Vojvoda Stepa Stepanovi� seemed the most likely candidate to lead a neutral government, but ill health compelled him to refuse that task. Rumours circulated that General Hadži�, who had been the Minister of the Army and Navy in 1924, would be the next choice.91 By the beginning of May, the name of Petar Živkovi�, the commanding general of the Royal Guard and, perhaps more importantly, the leader of the White Hand, was on the front page of the newspapers.92 In the short term, Radi�’s talk of a neutral government brought the coalition government closer together. However, although the SLS and the JMO during the spring months had been drifting towards acceptance of a general, the Democrats remained opposed.93 In the meantime, on 21 February 1928, Vuki�evi� succeeded in forming his second government with the help of the Democrats, the SLS, and the JMO. This was the clear end of the SDK’s hopes of isolating the Radicals. Although the Slovenes and the Bosnian Muslims played a token role in the second Vuki�evi� government, their presence could not conceal that the gap between the Serbian parties and the prečani parties was more unbridgeable than ever. Of all the Serbian parties, only the Agrarians remained on good terms with the SDK, but they failed to formalize their cooperation.94

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Before considering the final ten months of the fragile Yugoslav parliamentary democracy, another exploration of Yugoslav political rhetoric is in order. Even as discussions about a neutral government persisted in 1927–8, political rhetoric in Yugoslavia, never dull, escalated once again to dangerous levels. During the late winter and spring of 1928, Radi� was banned three times from the Skupština because of his inflammatory rhetoric. Radi� also raised tensions by asserting, during parliamentary debate, that Serbia might have caused the First World War by seeking a port on the Adriatic Sea. The SDK, and Radi� in particular, complained about the “Balkan and Cincar” character of Belgrade, much to the consternation of the government parties.95 An article in the country’s largest (and fervently pro-government) newspaper, Politika, lamented that the aggressive and intolerant rhetoric in the Skupština was pulling Yugoslavia in the wrong direction. The ongoing political battles and the language of debate gave the impression that the peoples of Yugoslavia were further removed from “spiritual union” than they had been at “the beginning of the establishment of this state.”96 The British minister, Kennard, who like all British diplomats had few good words for Radi�, complained in a March 1928 dispatch that “M. Raditch and M. Pribitchevitch are indulging in an orgy of irresponsible oratory.”97 Jedinstvo (Unity), a Radical organ established in Belgrade in June 1928, provided the clearest example of the apparent impossibility of an escape from destructive and hateful political rhetoric. Ostensibly founded to foster unity in the disintegrating Radical Party, the paper’s staff seemed to think this could best be accomplished by firing broadsides at the SDK.98 In its third issue, Jedinstvo carried an article titled “One Must Speak to Swine in Their Own Language.” Protesting against Radi�’s and Pribi�evi�’s recent public statements, the paper’s editor, Vladimir Ristovi�, referred to their “swinish Gypsy things [ciganske svinjarije].” In a dark allusion, Ristovi� warned Pribi�evi� and Radi� that “some Hercigonja or Aliagi�” – notorious political assassins – might take matters into his own hands.99 Quite understandably, the SDS organ Riječ (The Word) interpreted the Jedinstvo article as a call for the assassination of the opposition leaders.100 The SDK continued to issue demands for reform. They desired greater regional autonomy and pressed for the redistricting of the country into four zones, claiming this was possible under the Vidovdan Constitution. They continued to protest against police mistreatment and inequity in taxation.101 They also launched a campaign to depoliticize the

58  Making Yugoslavs

civil service. Given that the Radicals, in particular, operated a welllubricated patronage system, this was a direct attack on the heart of the government.102 Moreover, all of these opposition demands carried with them the threat that the SDK would abandon the Skupština and decamp to Zagreb if a compromise were not found. In the meantime, both the opposition and the government linked themselves with King Aleksandar, both claiming that only they had the king’s approval.103 As in 1924, the convergence on the person of the monarch by the state’s leading parties gave Aleksandar the opportunity to intervene. For now, however, the king resisted such temptations. The increasingly sharp parliamentary rhetoric, the opposition’s heightened demands, and the obstinacy of the government combined to create a highly volatile situation. “Even Radi� concluded on 19 June that ‘a psychological disposition for murder is being created here.’”104 Outside the parliament, Jedinstvo continued to print blood-curdling editorials. On 17 June, the newspaper had pointedly called political killings “a historical fact.”105 The following day, during a session of the Skupština, a vicious polemic erupted between SDK/HSS member Ivan Pernar and Puniša Rači�, a Montenegrin Serb deputy for the Radical Party and a leader of the paramilitary Chetnik movement. Only a few days earlier, Rači� had seriously proposed a law permitting armed duels to resolve insults to the honour of parliamentary deputies.106 Pernar accused Rači�, in his capacity as leader of a major paramilitary Chetnik organization, of having earlier plundered the beys (i.e., Muslim landlords).107 The stenographer dutifully recorded Rači�’s boldly unambiguous riposte: Puniša Rači�: I have never for even one moment in my public work lost sight of the protection of the interests of the Serb nation and the interests of my Fatherland … I state before everyone [here] … that Serbian interests have, [at least] when guns and cannons were not shooting, never been more imperiled than now [noisy protests from the SDK] – and gentlemen, I, as a Serb and a parliamentary deputy tell my nation and fatherland openly, that I will use other weapons, too, which must protect the interests of Serbdom.108

The shouting continued unabated; a fuse had been lit that could not be extinguished. Moments later, Rači� wielded a revolver and shot with deadly aim, hitting Stjepan Radi� and four other HSS deputies. Two of them, including Radi�’s nephew, Pavle, died on the spot. Stjepan

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Radi� suffered serious injuries to the stomach and was immediately hospitalized.109 The skupštinski zločin (Skupština crime), as it came to be known, had dire consequences for the fragile parliamentary system of Yugoslavia. The government parties made the best show of pursuing business as usual by writing off Rači� as a lone madman, but the opposition found this unacceptable. The SDK and the Serbian Agrarians believed that the Radicals bore collective responsibility for creating the inflammable situation in the Skupština. “According to Radi�, the assassin Rači� was only the executor of a [Radical] plot.”110 In repeated public statements, Pribi�evi� and other SDK members lashed out at “Serb hegemony,” describing Serbia and Croatia as two incompatible “worlds.” Some historians later extended the blame to King Aleksandar.111 It did not help that Samouprava (Autonomy), the Radical Party’s main organ, printed an editorial on the day following the assassination in which it virtually held Radi� responsible for the tragedy. After superficially condemning “this insane deed,” Samouprava noted that “our paper has struggled against the bad works of St[jepan] Radi� and his comrades in the National Assembly, because that work has been aimed against the vital interests of the people and the state, and because, especially with regard to personal insult, it has driven conflicts which disgrace the nation, and weaken the state.”112 Rubbing salt in the wound, Samouprava on July 10 began running a regular column on its front page in which it lashed out viscerally at the SDK and delighted in citing the protracted polemics between Radi� and Pribi�evi� before they formed their coalition.113 Predictably, Jedinstvo held its arch-enemy Pribi�evi�, and Radi� himself, responsible for the shooting.114 The government did little to lower tensions.115 Pribi�evi� and Radi� dearly hoped that the king, who had visited the convalescing Radi� and the other wounded deputies on the day of the shooting, would intervene to solve the crisis.116 The SDK, which had withdrawn from the Skupština, demanded the dissolution of the present parliament and the calling of new elections.117 It also repeated its calls for a revision of the Vidovdan Constitution.118 The king refused to make any such move, arguing that any major concessions by the government at this time would suggest that it had been responsible for the tragedy in the Skupština.119 Instead, he tried to persuade Pribi�evi� to desert the SDK, a move that would have isolated the HSS. Aleksandar tried to appeal to Pribi�evi� as a fellow Serb. Clearly, Aleksandar could not comprehend how any Serb could side with Croats against Belgrade. According to

60  Making Yugoslavs

Pribi�evi�’s memoirs, Aleksandar resisted the decentralization and redistricting of the state, claiming that he could not “forget his blood. To that I responded to him that he could not be king if he took only his own blood into account.”120 Meanwhile, the government pushed forward blithely with its policy agenda. Except for the Democrats, who quickly came to believe that elections had to be held to resolve the stalemate, the government parties insisted on finding a solution within the framework of the present parliament.121 Indeed, the government seemed intent on ratifying the Nettuno Conventions with Italy, which many Croats and Slovenes viewed as detrimental to their interests.122 Rioting against the conventions took place throughout the summer in both Croatia and Slovenia. The British sensed the danger as well, noting the “remarkable callousness” of the government and its “complete failure to recognise the gravity of the situation.”123 In early July 1928, with the SDK boycotting the Skupština, the Vuki�evi� government resigned. After the moderate Radical Aca Stanojevi� failed to form a government, the king on 6 July for the second time asked Stjepan Radi� to do so. But as the request was offered to the still bedridden Radi� through Stanojevi�, who in the eyes of the SDK counted as the worst type of Radical, Radi� refused. This prompted Vuki�evi� to utter ominous words about a return to 1914.124 In doing so, he alluded to the juxtaposition between the South Slavs in the Habsburg lands and those in the Kingdom of Serbia during the First World War. The line taken by Belgrade was that Radi� should have accepted the mandate because the king’s support for him would have compelled the formation of a concentrated government. After Radi�, it was again the turn of General Hadži�, but on 23 July, unable to mould a government, he relinquished the task. In the end, Anton Korošec, the SLS leader, formed a new coalition government on 27 July with the so-called Quadripartite Bloc: the SLS, the Democrats, the JMO, and the Radicals. Korošec also took the portfolio of Minister of Internal Affairs. This was the first and only time that a government led by a non-Serb took power in interwar Yugoslavia. Several other ministers in the new government were to be prečani by origin. This was meant to be a conciliatory gesture to the prečani SDK politicians, but it was too little, too late: they refused to participate in forming this government. By now, the situation had so deteriorated that much more would be needed to placate the SDK.

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Rumours had begun to circulate about more drastic solutions to the country’s political plight. In particular, the concept of territorial “amputation,” first mooted by the Radical politician Stojan Proti� in 1920 and discussed often throughout the 1920s, resurfaced. Amputation, in this context, meant partitioning the state between Serbs and Croats as the only way to resolve the Serbo-Croat dispute that was plaguing the country. Given how controversial this was – both at the time and in the historiography – it should be remembered that the Radical Party had first broached the idea.125 The idea of amputation resurfaced at the beginning of July 1928. This appears to have been a calculated bluff by King Aleksandar and the Radicals.126 Sources close to the government and the Court put amputation on the table “in order that the leaders of the Peasant-Democrat Coalition might be given a chance of disavowing it.”127 On 7 July, the king informed the SDK that he would not authorize military intervention if the Croats were to decide to leave the state and if such a secession were conducted in an orderly manner. The same day, the SDK, aware of the danger that a rump state would face from its irredentist Hungarian and Italian neighbours, issued a statement denouncing amputation. Radi� parried in late July by calling for a union of Serbia and Croatia under King Aleksandar. Under this arrangement, Croatia would have its own military, administration, and parliament. Ethnically mixed areas such as Vojvodina, Bačka, Bosnia-Herzegovina, and Dalmatia would be allowed to choose whether to belong to Serbia or Croatia.128 Once again, the rhetoric heated up the political kitchen, with the topic of amputation being tossed back and forth like a hot potato between the opposition and the government. The pro-government press again accused the SDK of talking treason and of splitting the Serbs by playing the prečani against the Serbians. The government’s representatives were particularly incensed by those SDK figures who argued that the clock needed to be wound back to 1918 – that is, that the state’s entire institutional architecture was open for debate.129 Pribi�evi� countered by pointing out that “these same elements, brothers and friends, which present our legal struggle as anti-state, these same elements which treat our most justified demands as treasonous, suggested that high treason be carried out: the amputation of our regions from the state community!” He then accused the Serbian parties of using Serbdom as a fig leaf for their power hunger, thereby exacerbating the conflict between Serbs and Croats. “With the help of Serbdom they want to hold on to power

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every which way, with the help of false Serbdom they want to maintain a system of violence, theft, and corruption … They want to identify Serbdom with violence, but Serbdom will not allow that!”130 As indicated by the rhetoric of late July, the temporary opportunity for reconciliation, evident immediately following the shootings, had been squandered. The appointment of the Korošec government, which seemed intent on carrying out a full legislative program, greatly angered the SDK leadership. On 1 August 1928, the SDK declared the new government illegitimate, its decisions null and void for areas outside Serbia.131 This drastic move underscored how fragile the state was in the aftermath of the June tragedy. Further radicalization lurked around the corner. On 5 August 1928, on Zagreb’s central Ban Jelači� square, Josip Šuni�, a Croat nationalist, murdered Vladimir Ristovi�, the editor of the extremist Belgrade daily Jedinstvo.132 At the same time, Stjepan Radi�’s condition, which had seemed to be improving, unexpectedly worsened. On 8 August, the leader of the HSS and co-leader of the SDK died of his wounds. “His funeral on 13 August turned into a political manifestation of massive proportions, attended by about 300,000 people.”133 Serb politicians, even those sympathetic to Radi�, “were advised not to attend. The king’s wreath, carried by four army officers, immediately before the coffin, was the only reminder that Radi�’s death was mourned in Belgrade and Serbia as well.”134 With the death of Radi�, Yugoslavia arguably lost the only Croat capable of forging a true and lasting compromise with the Serbs.135 In the short term, a wave of sympathy for the deceased swept the country; in the long term, his passing widened the gulf between the SDK and the government. His death also immediately inspired Croat solidarity, as Croat politicians such as Ante Paveli�, the leader of the Croat Party of Right (Hrvatska stranka prava), and Ante Trumbi�, the leader of the Croat Federalist Peasant Party (Hrvatska federalistička seljačka stranka), temporarily reconciled with the HSS. After Radi�’s death, the HSS appointed Vladimir (Vladko) Maček as his successor. Maček was a close ally of Radi� who embraced all of his key ideas; however, his personality was far more subdued. According to Ljubo Boban, the authority on Maček, “Radi� was a multifaceted and gifted personality, dynamic, elastic, in continual physical and spiritual movement, a great speaker, in constant contact with his followers, always among them, with the live or spoken word. Maček was of average ability, buttoned-up, reserved, without elasticity, rarely in contact with

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the broader party masses, more present in his silence than in his expression.”136 Thus, there could be no doubt that Radi�’s death had dealt a serious blow to the SDK. However, together with Pribi�evi�, Maček forged ahead with the politics of the SDK. By early September, the government had taken a much tougher stance towards the opposition; in some senses, the entire polity seemed to have returned to the crisis year of 1924. The Radicals viewed the HSS as returning to its pre-1925 republicanism and as succumbing to nationalist and secessionist tendencies in the wake of Radi�’s death. Instead of just lamenting the SDK’s refusal to return to the Skupština in Belgrade, government ministers dialled up their accusations of treason.137 The government continued to bet on a split between Pribi�evi� and Maček, but this failed to materialize. On the contrary, Pribi�evi� moved closer than ever to the HSS’s position and began for the first time to use the argument of hrvatsko pravo (Croat state right) in public. This was a watershed, for until then, only Croat politicians had used that concept to argue for regional autonomy.138 The SDK leaders also began calling for a “social boycott” – that is, a boycott of social contact with all members of the government parties.139 In the event, the government’s offensive proved counterproductive, for it only deepened distrust and contributed to renewed talk – and mutual accusations – of amputation.140 The SDK was apoplectic that the government refused to call new elections, accusing it of hypocrisy. Only slightly embellishing the historical record, the SDK pointed out that the Serbian parties had flirted with the Croats when the HRSS was illegal. Yet ironically, “when Stjepan Radi� and his party went over to the state … Stjepan Radi� and his comrades were killed.”141 For Maček, the rhetoric of amputation suggested a conqueror’s mentality, because it assumed that the Serbs owned the state. “I don’t know who first spoke that word, but it definitely fits the Serbian mentality which regards this state as an expanded Serbia. If this state were de jure an expanded Serbia as it by God unfortunately is de facto, then we might be able to talk about amputation.”142 Inevitably, although rarely explicitly, talk of amputation raised the issue of where to draw the border.143 At the time, just as in the 1990s, the ethnic architecture of Croatia-Slavonia, Dalmatia, and Bosnia made it impossible to draw a line between Serb and Croat areas without leaving some populations “stranded” on the other side. The Serbs and the king would certainly have demanded that the line extend to the northernmost and westernmost points of Serb settlement. After all,

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they viewed the First World War largely as a war that had allowed the unification of all Serbs in one country led by the “oath of Piedmont” (pijemontanski zavet) of the Kingdom of Serbia.144 Leading politicians and intellectuals in Serbia proper left no doubt that the Serbs would, if necessary, spill blood to preserve the “Serb soul” on the “far banks” of the Drina, the Danube, and the Sava. “We recognize … the right of the Croats and Slovenes to ‘self-determination,’ but all we Serbs (those across the Drina, as well as those across the Sava and Danube) must remain in union with Serbia.”145 Those who defended this view reserved special bile for Pribi�evi�, whom they regarded as engaged in an unholy attempt to split the Serb nation and to prevent Serbo-Croat understanding.146 Yet they, and indeed most later Serb nationalist historians, gravely underestimated the extent to which disaffection had spread to all citizens of the formerly Habsburg lands, not just to Croats.147 In the indignant words of one prominent Serb historian, “the opposition of Serbs from the areas of Dalmatia, Croatia, and Slavonia to the Serbs from Serbia signified the definitive abandonment of the united Serbian national interest.”148 This sort of reasoning assumed – wrongly – that a given nation must unite around a single political stance. In fact, many prečani at this point felt so alienated by Belgrade’s malfeasance and misadministration that they might well have accepted broad regional autonomy or even a multinational entity. In this fraught political environment, eyes turned again to the king, who was widely perceived as the only figure in whom almost everyone in the population retained at least some trust. Yet those who admired him and who looked to him for a solution to the quagmire did so for vastly different reasons. Many in Serbia thought that the (Serb) king could wield a firm hand and cut through the Gordian knot. In the eyes of the prečani, the king could sideline selfish Serbian politicians and thereby bridge the inherently artificial gulf separating the Croat, Serb, and Slovene peasant peoples.149 But even among the prečani, differences existed. Maček saw the king as a potential ally in reaching a solution for the Croats; Pribi�evi� saw a more restricted role for the king, one limited to dissolving the Skupština.150 Yet it remained the case that “an orientation toward the king as the key to the resolution to the crisis was the fundamental characteristic of the politics of the Coalition on the eve of the proclamation of the absolutist regime.”151 In the midst of the crisis, in November 1928, King Aleksandar travelled to France. Given the delicate political situation at home and

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the close relations between France and Yugoslavia, many thought he was consulting with his French allies. According to the Royal Court, the visit’s purpose was entirely personal: the king was suffering from dental problems and was in France to have them treated. Many at the time – and in the later Yugoslav communist and Croat nationalist historiographies – considered this excuse to be risible, but subsequent studies of the Court records have shown it to be true. However, Aleksandar himself contributed to the rumours swirling around the visit by giving statements to the French press and by meeting, unofficially, with high representatives of the French government, including the French president, Gaston Doumergue.152 Whatever the case, the king was still stating publicly that Radi�’s death had been a tragic but isolated incident and that a constitutional and parliamentary solution could be found. There are indications that he viewed the crisis as less severe than the one in 1924. Before leaving for Paris, he had taken pains to squelch rumours abroad of the impending collapse of Yugoslavia.153 The SDK, according to the king, was spewing hot air at meetings but had taken no concrete steps that threatened the state’s integrity. Aleksandar noted that Korošec’s government included a large number of prečani. He reiterated that he could accept decentralization if the opposition and the government could come to an agreement about it – adding, however, that he could not accept autonomy for Croatia.154 Betraying his deepest concerns and beliefs, King Aleksandar told his French interlocutors that “a large and complicated problem exists, and that is the presence on the territory of Croatia of a significant number of Serbs (approximately 1/3 of the population), which will never accept separation, nor, for example, in the form of a personal union, but whose complaints find direct resonance in the former [Kingdom of] Serbia.”155 The impasse continued until early December, when blood was again shed. On 1 December 1928, the ten-year anniversary of the founding of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, festivities were to be held throughout the kingdom. Especially on the Croatian side, voices had called for all festivities to be cancelled, given the ongoing crisis and the anger over Radi�’s death. “If the government had tact, it would have cancelled all celebrations,” argued the front-page headline of the 24 November issue of Novosti (Zagreb). In the same article, Pribi�evi� stated that he had already before 20 June called for 1 December 1928 to be a protest against “hegemony,” but he was careful to qualify it as not being a protest against the 1 December 1918 act of unification.156

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In Politika, on 1 December, a front-page editorial lamented that the nation had failed to achieve unity in “ten short years” out of the “three pasts” of “one nation.” Striking a note of cautious optimism, the editorial went on: The future of Yugoslavia is more powerful than the past of the Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. It is more powerful because the generations who are coming are stronger and more numerous than today’s, and because we have no right to destroy that which past generations have created not only because of us, but also because of those who will come after us. Yugoslavia does not belong to us alone, least of all to us, that we might today at will disperse, cut it up, and destroy it … And the struggle in which we await the day today, is nevertheless better and more fertile than the struggle which would develop if we were to split up, divide ourselves, amputate ourselves, because a struggle within borders is incomparably easier than a struggle for borders, and because it is easier to surmount external misfortune standing one next to the other than as one without the other … The struggle against a regime, yes even the blackest one, must not be allowed to degenerate into a struggle against the state. The struggle against the First of December is a struggle against the state, because it was founded on that day, because the state is the First of December.

The citizens were being called upon to enter an uncertain second decade of the common state, to leave behind the language of hatred and distrust, and to prevent the death or even the “suicide” of the state. The article concluded on a provocative, searching note: “Great misfortune has often made great people. Will our misfortune, which is not small, also create them? At least one?”157 But in Zagreb, the mood remained bitter. The citizens resented the heavy-handed calls for public celebrations. Novosti carried no special article on the commemoration, devoting its entire front page to a murder in the courts in Prague.158 Disturbances broke out when pro-SDK students hung black flags of mourning from the cathedral in Zagreb and began chanting: “Down with Belgrade and the present government! Long live free Croatia! Long live the Peasant Democrat Coalition!” At several points during the day, a number of shots were fired, killing or wounding several people. Some communist protests were also evident that day. This turn of events, most likely triggered by a very small number of extremists and exacerbated by the overreaction of the military and the police, pushed the country closer to the brink.159

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  67

On 4 December, the students at the University of Zagreb began a strike, which led to the immediate albeit temporary shutting of that institution. The following day, the veliki župan (Grand Prefect) of the Zagreb District resigned and was replaced with Colonel Vojin Maksimovi� on the orders of Korošec, acting in his capacity as Minister of Internal Affairs.160 Maksimovi� sternly warned all officials that they must enforce the Law on the Protection of the State and the Law on Public Security. This generated howls of protest from the SDK, which regarded Maksimovi�’s appointment as unconstitutional and as a direct provocation after the altercations between the populace and the army on 1 December.161 It also dismayed Davidovi�’s Democrats, who contended that Korošec had made a dubious decision without proper consultation.162 Davidovi�, possibly at the behest of King Aleksandar, began to push Korošec into a corner by demanding reforms to the laws governing corruption, peasant indebtedness, and other issues.163 On 7 December, the Zagreb Regional Council declared that it would refuse to cooperate with Maksimovi�. Novosti, meantime, was beginning to refer to the government in Belgrade as the “regime of 20 June.”164 The SDK leadership spoke of the danger of a “Macedonianization” of Croatia, a reference to the notoriously militarized and abusive regime that ruled the Yugoslav-controlled portions of Macedonia.165 Under assault from within and without, the Korošec government limped on for three more weeks. In Zagreb, the situation remained tense, although the students ended their strike. Meanwhile, the newspapers revelled in tales of the impending resignation of Korošec, although no one knew who or what would come next. As late as 28 December, the British Minister at Belgrade, Kennard, wrote that the crisis had been a “farce.”166 Yet the previous day, Davidovi� had finally played his hand, demanding a string of concessions, including new parliamentary elections, an agreement with the Croats, and the removal of Maksimovi�. Significantly, his demands went beyond what the Court and Korošec were considering.167 On 30 December, unwilling and unable to bow to these demands, Korošec resigned, thus precipitating yet another crisis. As the king was ill at the time, and the New Year’s festivities were taking place, the formation of a new government was put on hold for several days. Because the archives of the Royal Court are in poor condition, we will probably never know how active a role King Aleksandar played in the collapse of the Korošec government. But a series of letters sent

68  Making Yugoslavs

in December 1928 by Mate Drinkovi�, a retired Croat minister, to the king strongly implicate the king in that month’s crisis.168 Although only Drinkovi�’s side of the correspondence is available, the basic outlines of their discussions in Belgrade emerge clearly. Writing to King Aleksandar on 10 December 1928, Mate Drinkovi� proposed, “by order of Your Majesty,” a list of people who could, “by virtue of their knowledge, voice, [and] conviction” be used with success as executors of great – and for the state urgent – intentions of Your Majesty.” Ever the sycophant, he added: “I mention my person since Your Majesty has bestowed His trust upon me, and with it I would like to put all my strengths at the disposal and the unlimited service of Your Majesty.”169 Of the ten names mentioned in the letter, four would become ministers in the first government of the royal dictatorship.170 But there was more to come. Having made his recommendations, Drinkovi� laid out a broad and concrete plan for action: I feel that it is my duty to inform Your Majesty of one wish which was reported to me, and which I hold to be worth consideration, and that is: that it would at the beginning, after the opening of the crisis, be most instructive if Your Majesty were to give all parliamentary attempts a short deadline, of some 48 hours, to produce a solution which would show itself to be unsuccessful. Then Your Majesty would be, by the force of circumstances obvious to everyone, forced to embark upon the formation of an extra-parliamentary government. This [government] would then, by the decision of Your Majesty, with the complete trust of the people, embark upon decisive and very important work.

Drinkovi� closed his letter by emphasizing the people’s great faith in the king.171 Twelve days later, Drinkovi� again wrote to King Aleksandar, this time to report on a conversation with Vladko Maček. Drinkovi� had informed Maček that there would soon be a government crisis; now he was sending out feelers to the HSS leader. Maček replied that he would come to Belgrade if invited by the king and that this would provide a welcome opportunity to express his thoughts directly to the monarch. Maček was pessimistic about the situation, and he agreed that an “extra-parliamentary government, even if [it is] a dictatorial government, composed of people fully endowed with faith in Your Majesty,” might be needed to achieve a durable solution. Drinkovi� did not, however, tell Maček that the king had already given orders in this

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  69

direction. Apparently alluding to past conversations between the two Croats, Maček confirmed that he “would not proceed into any combination with any party whatsoever. And he would not agree to any one whatsoever if Pribi�evi� perchance wanted one, which he anyway did not believe he did.” For Maček, the goal of all this was an agreement between Belgrade and the HSS.172 In other words, an opportunity existed for the king to divide the SDK leadership. Korošec had decided he could no longer resist the forces that were increasingly arrayed against him. His government resigned on 30 December 1928, but the king, ill at the Royal Court, did not accept the resignation immediately. On hearing of Korošec’s resignation, Maček realized that the endgame had begun and laid his cards on the table. He stated “once and for all” that he supported autonomy for Croatia, with additional autonomy for Slovenia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Montenegro, and Vojvodina. On New Year’s Day 1929, the two SDK leaders announced that they would go to Belgrade if necessary. The following day, the Royal Court accepted the resignation of the Korošec government. Maček again called for a neutral government, for broader autonomy for Croat-inhabited areas, and for a reorganization of the country into seven regions: Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Vojvodina, Montenegro, and Macedonia. Pribi�evi� openly opposed this plan, preferring “democratization” of the country instead. Pribi�evi�’s opposition to a redistricting or federalization of the country was motivated in part by narrow party-political interests. He feared his own party would disintegrate into several regional ones if such a plan were implemented.173 On 4 January 1929, King Aleksandar, having recovered from his brief illness, began calling representatives of all major political parties to the Court for consultations about forming a new government. When we remember the content of Drinkovi�’s letters, the ensuing farce does not seem so puzzling. Accounts of the king’s audiences with the parliamentary leaders on 4 and 5 January tend to agree that none of the invited politicians made much effort at compromise. Those audiences were, in fact, almost ridiculously short. Maček and Pribi�evi� spent barely half an hour each with the king on 4 January, with Maček returning the next day for a further brief consultation.174 King Aleksandar’s renewed probing for a gap between the positions of the two SDK leaders hinted at a possible last-minute bout of anxiety about dictatorial rule. Nothing came of this.175 Both Maček and Pribi�evi� supported the king’s decision to consult with the esteemed Serb legal

70  Making Yugoslavs

expert Slobodan Jovanovi�, but ironically, Pribi�evi� was the one who thought that Jovanovi� was incapable of properly considering the Croat perspective. As it turned out, Jovanovi� disparagingly remarked that Maček was demanding a kind of confederal quasi-state that had never before existed anywhere in the world. Meanwhile, the king, while he expressed his desire to speak with a similar expert from Zagreb, tellingly stated that there was no time to wait for such a person to arrive in Belgrade. This, even though days – and in some senses weeks – had elapsed during which precisely such a person could have been summoned. Be that as it may, Jovanovi�’s opinion apparently confirmed Aleksandar’s belief that Maček’s demands were a ruse intended to lead to the state’s dismantling. The king no longer thought that the SDK was all talk and no action, and he feared that chaos would erupt if elections were held. When Nikola Uzunovi� attempted to warn him of the dangers of the planned dictatorship, the king replied: I have evidence that they [i.e., the SDK, and in particular the Croats] want to break up and cut up the state … Can we look peacefully at all that? Can all that destructive action be stopped and prevented with peaceful means – with elections, when our electorate is divided, frayed … [sic] I maintain and deeply believe that we are not capable of that. We have no choice but to resort to the most radical measures in the resolution of our internal political crisis, and to postpone the importance of the constitution for a certain period, as the only possible solution. I have decided this, after much thought and long sleepless nights … Put into the position where I have to choose between the constitution and the state … [sic], I have chosen the latter, as did Lincoln, when he was once in a similar situation, choose the state … That is my sacred duty, to which I am directed in this difficult moment by the oath of the victims from Kolubara, Albanian Golgotha, and Kajmakčalan.176

King Aleksandar here was referring to two of the costliest battles the Serbs had fought in the First World War, at Kolubara and Kajmakčalan. “Albanian Golgotha” was an allusion to the disastrous retreat of the Serbian Army in 1915 to Corfu through Albania. That long march had decimated its ranks and contributed to the horrendous losses the Serbs had suffered in the First World War – the highest per capita of any country.

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  71

Aleksandar saw himself in nearly divine terms as the unifier and defender of the Yugoslav state, which had arisen phoenix-like from the ashes of the First World War. Maček’s renewed call for a neutral government merely confirmed what the king had learned from Drinkovi� and from another confidant, the Croat newspaper magnate Toni Schlegel: that many Croats would genuinely welcome a royal dictatorship.177 By contrast, the king feared that the Serb public would react very negatively to the abolition of parliament, although he told Vojislav Marinkovi� that the Serb peasant had lost faith in the Skupština. “I did swear on the constitution, but I also swore that I would preserve the integrity of the state, and it has never been in greater danger.”178 On the afternoon of 5 January, the Royal Court Chancellery issued a brief public statement: On the occasion of the resignation of the royal government, the King has, on the suggestion of the President of parliament, consulted the representatives of all parties and parliamentary groups … After acquainting themselves with the demands of the SDK, the remaining representatives of political parties and clubs have decided not to accept them … The result of the consultations showed that entirely contradictory viewpoints exist as to the resolution of the crisis. These differences of opinion even manifest themselves with regards to the question of the state’s structure. Because of this there is no possibility for any kind of parliamentary solution whatsoever which might guarantee the maintenance of full state and national unity.179

In the evening, King Aleksandar called General Petar Živkovi�, Commander of the Royal Guard, and a handful of politicians to the Court, where they were sworn in as the new government. This time, however, the government would exist entirely without a parliament, by the grace and good will of the king. Conclusion The confused experiment with parliamentary democracy and the subsequent introduction of authoritarian rule in the Kingdom of Yugoslavia was part of a larger pattern of the demise of democracy in interwar Europe. It was not coincidental that during the 1928 debate on a “neutral” government, Politika approvingly cited the example of Marshal

72  Making Yugoslavs

Józef Piłsudski in Poland.180 In Yugoslavia’s case, the very birth of the state had generated such strong acrimony that chronic doubts existed concerning its viability. Arguably, a Yugoslav state was doomed to fail after the traumatic struggle over the Vidovdan Constitution.181 Until 1925, the dominant Croat party, the Croat Republican Peasant Party, had openly called for a republican state structure. After 1925, and especially after the founding of the SDK, the “Croat question” was more than a national one: it had evolved into a regional and social one, with Croats and Croatian Serbs taking much the same stance. Although the Serbian political elites refused to recognize this fact, their parties’ rhetoric, with its vicious attacks on the prečanski “front” and claims that the Serb nation was threatened, amounted to a frightened albeit subconscious recognition of reality. All of this worried King Aleksandar, who feared that his country might split in two. The 1924 and 1928 crises demonstrated that in Yugoslavia, “normal” discussions of taxation, corruption, and so on tended to degenerate into vicious disputes between Croats (or prečani) and Serbs. A host of serious socio-economic problems befell Yugoslavia in the 1920s. From the outset, the country had several distinct economies. The light industry and reasonably well-developed agriculture of the northwest (Slovenia, Croatia, Vojvodina) quite literally existed in another century than that of the former Ottoman lands. No single legal code held for the entire country. Educational standards and literacy ranged from mediocre in the northwest to appalling in Bosnia-Herzegovina and the southeast. All the while, government instability combined with nationalist polemics to mitigate against the emergence of any rational or comprehensive development plan. Hence, the northwest saw its progress stagnate and the southeast could only with difficulty perceive any tangible improvements in its well-being. For the vast peasant majority not involved in high politics, the outlook was grim. The politicized, inefficient, and corrupt bureaucracy made the peasant’s every encounter with the state an unpleasant one. On the economic front, hardship was severe even at the best of times. Slovenia and Croatia could not trade freely with their natural markets in Austria, Hungary, and Italy, and the peasantry throughout the kingdom remained mired in indebtedness. The SDK reaped political capital from real and perceived social and economic inequities, but neither it nor the government parties could boast of a well-considered legislative program. By the end of the 1920s, corruption, peasant indebtedness,

“A Tribal and Parliamentary Dictatorship”  73

and payments to war invalids had been added to a growing list of festering issues. The distinct national projects of the peoples of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes remained almost hopelessly at odds. For ten years, government parties – the Radicals above all – had wrapped themselves in the cloak of monarchy and national and state unity in order to deflect accusations of misadministration and corruption. Whoever dared criticize the government was accused of high treason. In this atmosphere, even the most loyal opposition risked suffocation. The killing of Stjepan Radi� on the floor of the parliament – the logical consequence of years of violent and hateful political rhetoric – united the Croats more than ever before in their opposition to that which they perceived as “Serb hegemony.” Yet whereas they had once stood virtually alone in this claim, they had by 1927 found an unlikely ally in Svetozar Pribi�evi�, the erstwhile architect of the centralist and unitarist Yugoslav state. At the end of the long and tumultuous first decade of the Yugoslav polity, all eyes looked to King Aleksandar, albeit for distinctly contradictory reasons. Narodno jedinstvo remained a distant mirage. For decades, historians of Yugoslavia have debated the causes of the Sixth of January Dictatorship. Most of these explanations have combined variations of Marxist and nationalist determinism to depict a polity structurally doomed to failure. Yet at several points in the 1920s, and even in 1928, the key actors on the Yugoslav political stage had opportunities, however fleeting, to compromise, to pull back from the brink. That they did not, or perhaps could not, recognize this can be ascribed to the superheated rhetoric of the political arena and to the narrow pursuit of party interests and self-interests by all the actors concerned. These party interests were, especially in the case of the crucial Serbo-Croatian axis, aligned almost unbendingly with the national question. A close reading of the crucial period from 20 June 1928 to 6 January 1929 paradoxically makes the end of the parliamentary system in the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes look more contingent and accidental in the long run, but more inevitable in the short run. Overall, the end of the kingdom’s parliamentary system increasingly resembles not so much the simple and predictable result of a congenital constitutional disease as the consequence of a tragically deliberate and brutal murder of a terminally ill patient by several assailants who, having suddenly recognized a serendipitous constellation of individual interests, decided to act with lethal force.

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PART TWO The Advent of the Alexandrine Dictatorship

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3  Cutting the Gordian Knot: The Dictatorship’s First Year

Orthodox Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday in January 1929. In the Yugoslav capital, it marked the official beginning of a four-day holiday. Yet the citizens of Belgrade, like those across Yugoslavia, found it difficult to relax. The Court’s grave declaration the previous afternoon of an insoluble political crisis had piqued the population’s curiosity, and people awaited the next development with great anticipation. On that day, 6 January 1929, the Royal Court released a manifesto containing a confident and stern message from King Aleksandar. To My Dear People [Narod] To all Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes The greatest national and state interests and their futures command Me, as Ruler and as a Son of this country, to appeal directly to the People and to state openly and sincerely what My conscience and My love for the Fatherland oblige Me to do at the present moment. The hour has come, when there can and may no longer be any intermediaries between the People and the King. In the course of executing all My High duties, in the execution of which I have demonstrated such great efforts and such patience, My soul has been plagued by the cry of our popular masses – working and patriotic, yet tormented. They have, guided by their natural common sense, long ago discerned that it is no longer possible to take the path which we have hitherto taken. My expectations, like the expectations of the People, that the evolution of our domestic political life would bring a settling and con­ solidation of conditions in our country, were not realized.

78  Making Yugoslavs

Parliamentary order and our whole political life are taking on ever more negative characteristics, from which the People and the State have for now derived only damages. All useful institutions in our State, as well as a strengthening of our reputation and credit abroad, are thereby endangered. Parliamentarism, which as a political means in the traditions of My unforgettable Father, has remained My ideal as well, began to be abused by blind political passions to such an extent that it became a hindrance for each fruitful labour in the State. The regrettable discord and the events in the National Parliament made the faith of the People in those institutions waver. Agreements, yes even the most normal relations between parties and people, became absolutely impossible. Instead of developing and strengthening the spirit of national and state unity, parliamentarism – such as it is – is beginning to lead to spiritual disintegration and to national division. It is My sacred duty to employ all means to preserve State and National Unity. And I have resolved to fulfil this duty without hesitation to the end. To preserve national unity and the integrity of the state, that is the highest goal of My Reign, and that must be the greatest law for Me and for everyone. My responsibility to the Nation and to history commands this of Me. My love toward the Fatherland, as well as piety toward the countless precious victims who fell for that ideal, command this of Me. Seeking the cure for that evil in the parliamentary changes of government hitherto or in new legislative elections, would mean losing valuable time in vain attempts which have already cost us a few of the past years. We must seek new methods of work and open new paths. I am sure that in this serious moment all Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes shall understand this sincere word of their King, and that they will be My most trusted helpers in the course of My future efforts, the only goal of which is: to achieve as soon as possible the realization of those institutions, that state administration, and that state order, which will best correspond to general national needs and state interests. Because of that I have decided, and I decide, that the Constitution of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes of 28 June 1921 ceases to be valid.

The Dictatorship’s First Year  79

All laws of the land remain in force, as long as it is not necessary to change them by My Decree. In the future, new laws will be promulgated in the same manner. The National Parliament, elected on 11 September 1927, is dissolved. In communicating to My People this, My decision, I order all authorities in the state to act in accordance with it, and I order everyone and each one, to respect and obey it.1 King Aleksandar simultaneously decreed a series of new laws, including the Law on Royal Power and High State Administration and the Law on the Protection of Public Security and Order in the State.2 In this way, he showed that he intended to rule based on laws, albeit under a new system in which basic civil rights such as freedom of speech and freedom of association were suspended.3 “During the first six months of the new regime a total of 132 laws and decrees were issued.”4 These new laws included the first Yugoslav Criminal Code. The new government promulgated draconian amendments to the already strict 1925 Law on the Press, and within a week it had issued the Law on the State Court for the Protection of the State.5 General Petar Živkovi�, the Commander of the Royal Guards and leader of the shadowy White Hand faction of the military, formed a new, “non-partisan” government, in which he also took the key portfolio of Minister of Internal Affairs.6 As indicated in the king’s manifesto, new legislation would be promulgated by decree and consultation would be sought only from the relevant minister, with the Ministerial Council’s stamp of approval. Article Two of the Law on Royal Power and High State Administration stated clearly that “the king is the bearer of all power in the country.” Article Fifteen noted that the king alone would choose the cabinet and the prime minister. Moreover, Article Four of the same law provided the king with complete legal immunity from prosecution.7 As the British minister at Belgrade, H.W. Kennard, observed, “it may not make the King absolutely perfect[,] but it at least makes him perfectly absolute.”8 Yet in an interview with a French journalist, King Aleksandar brushed back the label of dictatorship, asking rhetorically, “Is not that which had occurred here earlier more deserving of being called a dictatorship or tyranny?”9 Following the legal scholar Mustafa Imamovi�, one may distinguish four administrative goals that held for the entire duration of the dictatorship. First, the regime sought to concentrate power to the greatest

80  Making Yugoslavs

degree possible in the hands of the king, thereby creating a system of royal absolutism. The only other figure entrusted with significant power over legislation was the Minister of Internal Affairs, whom the king could, of course, dismiss.10 Second, the regime’s architects had designed the laws to further centralize power. Third, the laws aimed to preserve the country’s new political order. Fourth and finally, the decrees strove to maintain and increase national and state unity. Here it is critical to understand that national unity and state unity are two distinct albeit related concepts: national unity refers to the identity and national cohesion of the populace, whereas state unity refers to territorial integrity.11 To Imamovi�’s list, one should add the goal of producing a unified legal code for a kingdom that in 1929, to a surprising extent, still ran its affairs on the basis of a hodgepodge of Serbian, Habsburg, and Ottoman legal codes. King Aleksandar undoubtedly intended the new regime to mark a complete break with the past, but he also knew he could not construct a government with completely inexperienced non-politicians.12 Thus, when the government portfolios were filled during the first half of January, it became clear that the vast majority of the ministers participating in the new government were stalwarts of the first, calamitous decade of Yugoslav parliamentary and government life. The historian Todor Stojkov argues that by including a large number of top party politicians in his first cabinet, King Aleksandar was co-opting the parties and attempting to sow the seeds of their destruction. This tactic also strengthened the king’s claim that the regime was temporary and projected a message of moderation to Yugoslavia’s allies.13 It was equally plausible, however, to see the presence of so many representatives of the old regime as a fatal flaw of the dictatorship. The Agrarian politician Dragoljub Jovanovi� stated that even advocates of the new regime complained, “What kind of new state of affairs is that with old people?!”14 The requirement that the ministers renounce any previous party affiliations – political parties would at any rate soon be banned – did not dampen all suspicions about the nature of the new regime. Kennard recognized the weakness of the human component of the new regime immediately, but he was “ready to admit that he could not put his finger readily on any other or better material suited for the purposes.”15 The artist Ivan Meštrovi�, meeting with King Aleksandar, voiced similar doubts, noting that the new government looked as though someone wanted “to introduce Christianity,” using a “hodža [Muslim cleric] for this apostolic mission.”16

Table 3.1. Ministers in the Sixth of January Government17 Name18

Portfolio

Petar Živkovic´ (S)

Prime Minister and Internal Affairs

Previous Party Affiliation

Former Minister?

Position/Occupation on Eve of 6 January 1929

None (White Hand)

No

General, Commander, Royal Guards

Milan Srškic´ (S)

Justice

Radical

Yes

MP

Vojislav Marinkovic´ (S)

Foreign Affairs

Democrat

Yes

Min. of Foreign Affairs

Kosta Kumanudi (S)

Post and Telegraph19

Democrat

Yes

Politician

Božidar Maksimovic´ (S)

Education

Radical

Yes

MP

Stanko Švrljuga (C)

Finance

None

No

President of the Zagreb bourse Retired minister

Želimir Mažuranic´ (C)

Trade and Industry

None

Yes

Mate Drinkovic´ (C)

Social Politics

Croat Union

Yes

Retired minister

Gen. Stevan Hadžic´ (S)

Army and Navy

None

Yes

General

Stevan Savkovic´ (S)

Construction

Radical

No

Engineer; Member of Radical Party Executive Council Prime Minister (resigned)

Anton Korošec (SL)

Transportation

SLS

Yes

Otto Frangeš (C)

Agriculture and Water

None

No

University professor

Tugomir Alaupovic´ (C)

Religion

Democrat

Yes

Vice-President of State Council

Lazar Radivojevic´ (S)

Forests and Mines; Agrarian Reforms

Democrat

No

Engineer

Uroš Krulj (S)

National Health

Radical

Yes

Director of State Hospital in Sarajevo

Nikola Uzunovic´ (S)

Without Portfolio

Radical

Yes

President of Ministerial Council

82  Making Yugoslavs

The presence of the aforementioned Milan Srški�, an intelligent but notoriously corrupt and anti-Muslim Radical politician from Bosnia, stood as perhaps the single most egregious example of the dubious character of incoming government ministers. Vladko Maček reportedly viewed him as a “Great Serb.”20 As for Prime Minister Petar Živkovi�, one can hardly find a more controversial figure in Yugoslav history. Conspiracy theories flourish around him. Various contemporaries and historians have alleged that Živkovi�, a member of the nefarious White Hand, was homosexual, the secret lover of Aleksandar, power-mad, an extortionist, and more.21 There is ample evidence that his unpopularity extended to all parts of the country and across all classes – including his own soldiers. Grigor Žerjav, the leading Slovene Liberal politician, viewed Živkovi� as “the most-hated man in Serbia, not only amongst the people, but in the army, and even in [his own] Guards’ Division.”22 Of the sixteen ministerial portfolios represented in the first government of the dictatorship, Serbs held ten, Croats five, and Slovenes one. The Serb contingent dominated the crucial security and military posts and also held the Justice Ministry. However, the Croats were hardly relegated to minor posts. “It strikes the eye that the most important economic portfolios: finance, trade and industry, and agriculture, were given to Croat ministers … Besides them M. Drinkovi� … and T. Alaupovi� also entered the first sixth of January government. With the group of Croat ministers the regime of the monarchical dictatorship had a legitimacy which would allow the sixth of January politics to meet with understanding and support on Croatian territory, which was of special significance abroad.”23 Yet none of these Croats represented the Croat Peasant Party, which commanded the overwhelming support of Croats, especially since Stjepan Radi�’s death. The cabinet, like the king’s proclamation of 6 January, excluded all ethnic groups other than the three titular groups in the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes.24 In spite of all this, there was considerable hope in the country that these ministers could, under King Aleksandar, cooperate productively and set straight the course of the polity. Although minimized by the socialist and the Croatian and Slovenian nationalist historiographies, the initially optimistic greeting of the regime in Yugoslavia undoubtedly extended to Zagreb and Ljubljana. That optimism was based largely on the suspension of the reviled Vidovdan Constitution and the dissolution of the equally unpopular Skupština in Belgrade. Put simply, many Croats and Slovenes thought the clock had been rewound to

The Dictatorship’s First Year  83

1918. Corruption, malfeasance, abuse of power, regional inequalities in finances and taxation, and a whole host of other ills from the past decade would find their cure under the new regime. On 8 January in Zagreb, Jutarnji list ran a piece under the simple headline “Thank God” and praised the suspension of the constitution.25 The comments of foreign observers in the country at the time confirmed this attitude.26 The British Consul at Zagreb on 9 January reported “complete gratitude for the change of situation and the greatest admiration for the King, who is now beyond doubt a Croatian idol. By the evening similar reports were pouring in from a host of other Croatian, Slovene and Dalmatian places, and by Monday the chorus of approval was complete, with not a jarring note.” The reception of the new government in Croatian financial circles, buoyed by the representation of Croat ministers, was especially positive.27 Both of the main political camps in Slovenia also endorsed the new regime. The SLS felt comforted by the presence of Korošec among the ministers.28 And for the Slovene Liberals, the regime’s Yugoslavism was a dream come true. The Ljubljana daily Jutro called for all who “love Yugoslavia” to support the ministers in whose hands lay the “fate of Yugoslavia.”29 Setting the tone for the subsequent evolution of the regime, the progovernment press trumpeted the new beginning. Yet this was based on a fundamental misunderstanding, best expressed in a key statement by the HSS leader. According to Jutarnji list, Vladko Maček was “in a very good mood.” As was seen in the previous chapter, in the months after Radi�’s death, Maček had made repeated direct appeals to the king to take charge. After hearing of the proclamation of the new regime and meeting with the HSS, he stated that “as you see, the vest [lajbek] is unbuttoned.” He expressed happiness that the Croats had finally cast off the Vidovdan Constitution, which had “squeezed” the Croats for seven years. “It was destroyed not only in the conscience of the [Croat] people, and with the decision of His Majesty the King, but also in fact.” Asserting his confidence in the “maturity” of the Croat people, their “strength,” and the “great wisdom of H.M. the King,” Maček pronounced that “we will succeed in creating the ideal of the Croat people: for the Croat to become a lord in his own home, in his own free Croatia.”30 Many years later, Maček clarified this point in his biography, writing that he had already made his statement about the unbuttoning of the vest to King Aleksandar during their early January consultations. “I then quoted the historic advice of the old Magyar statesman, Francis Deak, to the Emperor Franz Josef: ‘If a vest is buttoned the wrong way,

84  Making Yugoslavs

the only thing to do is to unbutton it and button it again the right way.’ To consolidate Yugoslavia, it would be necessary to go back to 1918 and start all over, this time with the true representatives of the Croats taken into account.”31 Here it bears emphasizing that Maček’s statement did not mark a retreat from his position of autumn 1928 and that he thought the new government would act decisively to meet his demands for greater Croatian autonomy. It would soon become obvious, however, that a serious gap yawned between Maček’s hope for a “free Croatia” and the plans of the main architects of the dictatorship. An editorial in Jutarnji list only a week after the king’s manifesto provided an early warning sign that Serbs and Croats anticipated different things from the same regime. In an attempt to correct a certain understanding of the Belgrade press, “led by the Belgrade Pravda, which was, as is known, the greatest patron of the bloody regime” before 6 January, Jutarnji list complained that that same press was perverting the new state of affairs.32 The paper reminded its readers that Prime Minister Živkovi� had himself referred to the new regime as a “provisional state” and that “at the very moment that this government completes its task, it will return to a parliamentary regime.” Such extraordinary measures would never have been necessary had politicians at Belgrade satisfied the SDK’s legitimate demands. “The goal of this can once again only be one thing, and that is to create a platform for a new state structure. What kind it will be, that will be seen, but is a certain fact that it cannot be such as it has hitherto been. It cannot be so for the simple reason that neither the Croats nor the prečanski Serbs would be satisfied with it.”33 At least some agents of the state noticed this disparity in expectations for the dictatorship. From Varaždin, near the Yugoslav–­Hungarian border, the police reported in January 1929 that the Croats and their political representatives welcomed the political changes but that the early signals from Belgrade and the press confused them. In “all levels of the citizenry a suspicion has begun to take hold that the goal of the new government is something entirely different than is expressed in the Royal proclamation. The Croat political parties, the citizenry, and the followers of these parties, respectively, stand convinced and believe that the goal of the new government must be the fundamental restructuring of the state, i.e. to resolve completely and ontologically the basic problems … the Croat problem … in the direction of stated Croat wishes.”34 In April 1929, the Minister of Internal Affairs (Ministarstvo unutrašnjih dela, or MUP) complained to the veliki župan (Grand Prefect) of Croatia

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that it had obtained a troubling report on the situation in Croatia. According to that report, in Croatia until now it has not been possible to observe any change on the basis of which one might conclude that the broad masses are satisfied with the current state of affairs. At first, there was of course some relief and it was believed that the state of affairs created by the increased party struggles [of the past] would be quickly repaired. But, according to the opinion of the Croat peasants, the government did not succeed in this, nor do they believe that it will succeed.

The Croat peasants looked with particular disfavour on the dissolution of their local peasant assemblies. Furthermore, despite some initial amelioration in the situation immediately after 6 January, relations between Serbs and Croats in Croatia had begun to sour once again. The Croat peasants allegedly “still” looked at Serbs “with dissatisfaction, yes even with hatred,” believing that any changes the government undertook would benefit only the Serbs. All signs were that the remnants of the HSS continued to agitate among the population. The veliki župan forwarded the report to the local officials and asked them to respond.35 Serb elites seized on Maček’s comment about the “unbuttoned vest” as evidence that the Croats welcomed the new regime. Serb politicians were less happy with Croat and Slovene notions of a return to 1918, viewing them, in fact, as tantamount to a call for secession. Yet those notions would be a staple of Croat and later Slovene political criticism throughout King Aleksandar’s dictatorship. By 9 January, Maček had begun to sing a more critical tune. He was certain that the “nearest future” would reveal that the Croats stood united around their demands with their “brother prečanski Serbs and with progressive Slovenes.”36 In a statement to the British Morning Post, he worried openly that “Serb parties will try to use this state of affairs in order to continue the fatal policies which have been carried out until now by past governments toward the Croats.”37 Little of this conflict was visible in the press, which was quickly learning to live with drastically heightened censorship.38 In the first days after the Orthodox Christmas holiday, the main newspapers carried accounts of the populace’s elated welcoming of the regime. “Countless telegrams” were said to be pouring into the Royal Court from associations, organizations, chambers of commerce, civil servants, and ordinary citizens.39 Civil servants were said to be celebrating reports that

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the bureaucracy would finally be “depoliticized.” “Among the greeting cards and telegrams which ceaselessly arrived to the Marshal of the Court, peasant letters nonetheless made up the greatest number. The peasants are placing all hopes in the hands of their King and promising him full support and a readiness to pledge their lives if He seeks that … Everyone except those whose conscience is not clean is happy.” The king, in the words of one congratulant, had finally lived up to his namesake, Alexander the Great, and “cut the Gordian Knot with the sword of love towards [the] people, shedding the awful burden from the shoulders of tormented bureaucrats and impoverished peasants.”40 “The entire citizenry, without regard to tribal and religious affiliation, greeted the news of the formation of a neutral government of general Živkovi� with enthusiasm.”41 And the Organizacija jugoslovenskih nacionalista (Organization of Yugoslav Nationalists, or ORJUNA) stated that it viewed the king’s manifesto as a confirmation of its own earlier, repeated calls for a Yugoslav royal dictatorship.42 In Sarajevo, the Reis-ul-Ulema, Džemaludin Čauševi�, declared that the Muslims of Yugoslavia were “especially” pleased with the new regime.43 He had “always stressed that more work and less politics was needed, and I always nurtured a firm hope that the Greatest Factor in the country, the High Master of the State, would cast off everything that hindered the progress and fortune of our people of three names [našeg troimenog naroda].”44 However, in the summer of 1929, Čauševi� told the British intellectual Robert SetonWatson that one could not speak frankly about matters after 6 January 1929.45 Abroad, the regime received a quite warm welcome from its main allies, Great Britain and France.46 Both countries regarded Yugoslavia as an integral part of the European order that had been established by the Paris Peace Treaties. As allies of Yugoslavia, the British and the French had watched with concern as Yugoslavia drifted towards chaos in 1928. There were, however, initial doubts, especially at the British Foreign Office, about the extent to which King Aleksandar was actually in charge. The British viewed the Yugoslav army as “the one stable and efficient element in Yugoslavia” and were therefore prepared to entertain a dictatorship led by a general and the king; but at the same time, they had concerns about General Živkovi� and his ambitions. Like many others, they did not quite know what to do with the ever-present and confusing rumours about the close relationship between Aleksandar and the leader of the White Hand. Nonetheless, they hoped “the General’s appointment to the chief executive power is only intended as a safeguard to preserve order in Yugoslavia while changes in the constitution are

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under consideration, and that the present body of the King’s advisers will not be regarded as in any way permanent.”47 By the second week of January, the British Minister Kennard could report on a conversation with the king in which Aleksandar had given “the impression that he, rather than his entourage, was responsible for coup d’état.”48 But Kennard also struck a note of concern regarding the Croats’ reception of the regime, noting that “one cannot help doubting whether the new government is the most suitable to improve administration and to settle [the] Croat question on [a] sound basis and whether the King’s high handed action may not lead to grave repercussion[s].”49 The British seemed to share the view held by King Aleksandar and some Serb politicians that the “democratic convictions” of the Serb peasantry carried their own dangers and might even result in King Aleksandar Karađorđevi� sharing the fate – “one almost shivers” – that had met King Aleksandar Obrenovi� in 1903. The dictatorship’s termination of parliamentary politics had left many professional politicians unemployed, and this too was grounds for concern. These people, it was thought, were hardly likely to rest on their laurels and accept their loss of power and influence.50 But on balance, the British thought that Aleksandar’s Serb identity and peasant ancestry would grant him the necessary intuition to rule prudently and fairly.51 Meanwhile, in France, Le Matin published a glowing interview with King Aleksandar, significant excerpts of which were reprinted in Yugoslav newspapers. In his conversation with Le Matin’s correspondent, Jules Sauerwein, Aleksandar disagreed with those who viewed the new regime as a dictatorship. He contrasted the new government favourably with the preceding decade of parliamentarism. “Does not that which had occurred here earlier more deserve to be called a dictatorship or a tyranny?”52 The king used the Le Matin interview to launch what would be a prominent theme of the dictatorship. By referring to the previous decade as an era of “tribal” and parliamentary dictatorship, he disarmed potential opponents and critics. He also emphasized that his regime would remain in place for only a limited time until a proper democracy could be created. The exact length of time was carefully left unspecified.53 A few days earlier, in an interview with London’s Daily Express, Prime Minister Živkovi� had expressed similar views.54 The People Speak to Their King With the regime confident of goodwill from abroad, it could focus on building and maintaining domestic support. As noted earlier, the early

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signals looked favourable. In the days following 6 January, the country’s major newspapers were filled with telegrams and articles congratulating King Aleksandar on his bold move. Many of these telegrams were sent to the Royal Court, which organized and archived them.55 On 17 January, the Royal Chancellery issued a statement expressing thanks for the “numerous patriotic greetings and warm greeting cards from at home and abroad, with which are brought expressions of popular love, loyalty, and devotion.”56 However, the Royal Chancellery did not inform the public that it customarily ran background checks with the police on the authors of the correspondence in order to identify the sources of praise – and criticism. Although most of the messages to King Aleksandar simply offered brief, euphoric congratulations, a significant number suggested reforms and new policies. Typically, these messages started by thanking the king for “liberating” the country from ten “horrible” or “chaotic” years that had been a mere “farce” of democracy. A handful of admirers specifically referred to Aleksandar’s manifesto as the “cutting of the Gordian Knot” – an allusion to the king’s ancient namesake. In the words of one writer from Skopje, “in devout loyalty, it is my honour to congratulate Your Majesty on the wise and patriotic stroke with which you have cut the ‘Gordian Knot,’ which had mercilessly tightened around the throat of our dear People and our beloved Fatherland to the point of death.”57 Similarly, the Udruženje nacionalnih radnika u Južnoj Srbiji (Association of National Workers in Southern Serbia [i.e., Macedonia, Kosovo, and the Sandžak]) wrote in a letter addressed to “His Majesty Aleksandar I, Saviour of Yugoslavia” that “this, Your important and valuable Deed, is no less important than the elimination of the Gordian Knot by the sword of Aleksandar the Macedon, or the extermination of the Bogomil heresy by the sword of Stevan Nemanja, or the deed of bishop Danilo, whom our literary and poetic genius Bishop Rade Njegoš so wonderfully and famously sang of and described in the ‘Mountain Wreath.’”58 A number of citizens found artistic inspiration in the dictatorship. Over the course of the regime, many of them put pen to paper and sent songs to the Royal Court.59 In March 1929, Ante Matijin Palči�, a Croat working for the police in Belgrade, sent King Aleksandar a song that included rhyming, rousing verses praising the Royal Manifesto and newfound national unity. [Vladar je] Uništio mržnju među njima, [The ruler] destroyed the hatred among them,

The Dictatorship’s First Year  89 Da jednako pravno bude svima; So that all would have equal rights; Kako Srbu tako i Hrvatu, So for the Serb as for the Croat, I Slovencu njihovome bratu. And for the Slovene their brother. Od Triglava do Kajmakčalana, From Triglava to Kajmakčalan Subotice do plavog Jadrana; From Subotica to the blue Adriatic; Presta tuga srca da nam para, The sorrow ceases to break our hearts Posle dana šestog januara.60 After the day of the sixth of January.

Some citizens did not content themselves with mere words of admiration for King Aleksandar’s actions. A series of letters that a Slovene named A. Jamnik wrote to the king are a fascinating example of this. An agronomist by training, and an honourable member of the Agricultural Section of the Ljubljana Regional Council, Jamnik took it upon himself to offer advice to his king. In the first of these letters preserved in the archive, written before the advent of the dictatorship, in early December 1928, Jamnik informed the king that the country’s future rested in the monarch’s hands. Only firm action by the king could rescue the country from a chaotic “hidden parliamentary dictatorship” and widespread corruption.61 After the new regime was proclaimed, Jamnik wrote again to congratulate the king.62 Yet in mid-February 1929, Jamnik wrote that he perceived the nation was disappointed with the new government. People in the streets were saying, “well it is the same, exactly the same as the Radicals in Serbia before 6 January. Work, reality – nothing, party interest – all this, even when there are no parties. Don’t the ministries see anything, or are they so naïve and carefree[?] Does not 6 January mean something[?]”63 Another citizen offered an ominous blend of advice and caution. Sreten Sretenovi�, a former MP for Paši�’s Radical Party, wrote to praise the king for ending the chaos and corruption. Yet at the same time, he pointed out that the people’s welcoming of the dictatorship did not

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mean “that absolutism is better than English constitutionality.” He warned the king to “strike while the iron is hot and equalize all laws in the state immediately.” Otherwise, he might end up like his predecessors, the Obrenovi�es. “Your Majesty, with all my sincere friends of this region and our people I sincerely pray to God to protect us and You from a repetition of that unfortunate history of the Serbs!”64 Setting aside the doubts harboured by politicians like Maček and citizens like Jamnik and Sretenovi�, there is plenty of evidence that the Sixth of January regime enjoyed a “honeymoon period” both at home and abroad. The year 1928 had been an annus horribilis for the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. People disagreed fiercely about which direction the country should take, but almost everyone concurred that the country would either implode or explode if its course were not fundamentally altered. Yet the profound differences in opinion would have made it fiendishly difficult for even the sagest leader to steer a prudent course. This was particularly the case in terms of style of governance. While the scale and nature of the problems confronting the country undoubtedly merited a strong and firm hand, those who felt they had been consistently wronged over the past decade could easily have viewed that firmness as renewed repression. As part of its efforts to break cleanly with the past, the government promised to root out all corruption, even at the highest levels of the bureaucracy. The term for this was “depoliticization,” as it was widely known that governments in the 1920s had viewed the bureaucracy as a feeding trough. As Živkovi� explained it, the new civil servant would be professional and would take only the law into account when making decisions, disregarding personal, “tribal,” religious, and other extraneous factors. He elaborated on this in an open letter to the grand prefects published in Politika.65 In practice, however, depoliticization meant the removal of political opposition rather than politics per se. After the endemic corruption of the preceding decade, this vow of fiscal prudence was guaranteed to win popular support – except, of course, among those who had profited from the old regime. By all accounts, the dictatorship initially made a serious attempt to fight corruption. Newspapers published horror stories about laxness, arrogance, and malfeasance in state administration. The frank analysis and the shockingly candid conclusion that “it is the general conviction that nothing can be done in this state without bribes [bakšiš] or without middlemen” could not have passed the police censors without approval from on high.66 At the same time, the government distributed stern circulars to all corners of the civil service warning of grave consequences for those who did

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not reform their dishonest behaviour. In March 1929, the government decreed a Zakon o suzbijanju zloupotreba u službenoj dužnosti (Law on the Eradication of Abuses in Official Duty), which levied severe fines and jail sentences on officials convicted of corruption.67 The same month, the newly issued Zakon o uređenju vrhovne državne uprave (Law on the Structure of High State Administration) included special clauses that called for jail sentences and monetary fines for ministers found guilty of corruption.68 All of this was a dramatic step in the right direction, but the reformers knew they were having to clean Augean stables. In the assessment of the historian Todor Stojkov, “it was not necessary to wait long, however, for it to become evident that the regime of the dictatorship not only failed to uproot corruption. On the contrary, it gave it an added boost … Some politicians of the Sixth of January regime were earlier known as personalities who saw political functions as a means for the extraction of material benefits.”69 Indeed, corruption arguably increased during the dictatorship, although it was perhaps more restricted to the select group gathered around King Aleksandar and his ministers.70 The government did not content itself with anti-corruption and administrative measures. In its very first week, the regime’s unitarist nature became obvious. Under the new Law on the Protection of the State, associations bearing plemenski (tribal) or verski (religious) titles were required to disband immediately.71 In addition, all political parties, regardless of their identity, were to dissolve themselves and transfer their archives to the police.72 Former politicians, and in particular former Croat and Muslim politicians, were placed under full-time police surveillance and were forbidden to leave the country.73 The ban also affected trade unions and workers’ organizations.74 In practice, however, the enforcement of the ban on parties proved less than consistent. An awkward gap – in the eyes of Croat and Slovene politicians, a telling one – of several days elapsed between the police’s closure of the Croat and Slovene parties and their shutting down of Serb parties.75 The delay seems to have been because most Serb parties did not have a “tribal” appellation.76 Thus, Pribi�evi�’s Samostalna demokratska stranka (Independent Democratic Party, or SDS) was among the parties that enjoyed a temporary respite before being dissolved on 24 January.77 The proclamation of the regime had taken most politicians, except for the Radicals closest to the king, by surprise, and they put up little resistance to their forced retirement. For now, only the Communist Party of Yugoslavia and the left wing of the Agrarians protested the dictatorship.78 From the very outset of the new regime, misperceptions and conflicts of interest generated problems that would prove fiendishly difficult to

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solve. Overly zealous individuals, often prejudiced and poorly trained, but also excited about their new duties, often took their objectives too literally. For instance, considerable confusion existed as to whether the ban on tribal and religious organizations referred to any group bearing such a label or whether the police were to dissolve only politically active organizations. On 23 January, General Živkovi� found himself forced to send out a telegram clarifying matters: Certain authorities in the country have not correctly understood order J.B. number 1071 of 17 January of this year, and have therefore begun dissolving educational, cultural, humane, economic, noble, etc. societies simply because they in their names carry some tribal or religious title, and even though there is no real evidence or reliable information that such societies are engaged in political affairs or actions. Such societies should not be dissolved because it was not the goal of the legislator to interfere with or limit economic, cultural, educational, noble, and humane development, and in such and similar ways, the progress of the nation. Attention must be paid to the work of such societies and they must be watched. Only in cases in which you have gathered real evidence or reliable information, or if you gather them in the future, will you send me a justifiable suggestion, supported with evidence, that the society in question must be banned or dissolved. But you will not ban or dissolve it as long as you do not receive a definite order for that concrete case based on my evaluation.79

Contemporary critics charged that contradictions and hypocrisy plagued the government’s campaign against religious and “tribal” exclusivity. In June 1929, Gajret, a pro-Serb Bosnian Muslim cultural organization, even added the label “Serb” to its official title. This was a clear violation of the spirit and letter of the ban, but no legal action was taken.80 The government’s firm stance against the banned HSS and against Croat societies more generally often had the perverse effect of herding Croats into the Roman Catholic Church and towards hard-line Croat nationalists. Desperate to avoid forfeiting property to the state, even secular organizations such as Napredak (Progress), a Croat cultural organization, transferred their holdings to the Roman Catholic Church. While the Church hierarchy in Croatia initially took at least an ambivalent stance towards the dictatorship, many local Catholic clergy nurtured a visceral antipathy for the regime and even for Serbs in general. The growing influence of such clergy damaged the regime’s interests.81

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The government had promised to modernize and depoliticize administration; but it had also taken a firm stance against anyone who might oppose the new order. In general, government officials did their utmost to portray potential opponents of the regime as a small minority of assorted “tribal” and religious fanatics, lazy and corrupt officials, communists, and “anational” elements.82 At the end of January 1929, in an effort to coordinate and streamline legislation and the legal code, the government founded the Vrhovni zakonodavni savet (Supreme Legislative Council).83 This council, which met for the first time in March, was composed of eighteen esteemed legal experts (eight Serbs, seven Croats, three Slovenes), who were to advise the king and the Ministerial Council on the drafting of new legislation.84 According to the lawyer Ivan Ribar, the council, besides coordinating new legislation, would act as a sort of parliament.85 One of its first acts was to draft a law on the elimination of corruption in the civil service.86 Critics saw the council as no more than a rubber stamp.87 Undaunted, at the end of March 1929 the regime began issuing proud claims of its accomplishments to date and disseminating its plans. On 22 March 1929, Politika filled its front page with the government’s program, most of which amounted to modifying existing legislation. The emphasis was on rationalizing and professionalizing the civil service. This was to be achieved through depoliticization and by eliminating overlaps in the bureaucracy.88 The program emphasized the equality of all citizens before the law; it also promised an independent judiciary.89 The Zakon o uređenju vrhovne državne uprave (Law on the Structure of High State Administration), decreed by Aleksandar on 31 March, eliminated four ministries: Agrarian Reform, National Health, Post and Telegraph, and Religion. All of these portfolios would henceforth come under the jurisdiction of other ministries. The Acting British Consul at Zagreb reported that businessmen in Slovenia and Croatia were happy about the crackdown on corruption and that stocks were rising in value. Moreover, at the grassroots level people saw the “death” of politics “and its sudden elimination from all phases of the national, provincial, urban and rural life as something to be grateful for.”90 But signs of trouble were emerging in Croatia. On the very day the government published its legislative program, Toni Schlegel, the editor of Novosti (Zagreb), owner of the Jugoštampa publishing house, and a personal friend of King Aleksandar, was murdered in Zagreb.91 His killers were young Croat nationalists, Frankists, who detested Novosti’s

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pro-regime line.92 The regime, which at first suspected communists of committing the crime, responded with arrests and detentions.93 The resulting tensions led the king to postpone a planned visit to Zagreb until January 1931. Still, most of the weekly and monthly reports received by the regime insisted that all was well and that the people were overwhelmingly satisfied with the present state of affairs. Another sore point in Croatia was the trial of Puniša Rači� for murdering Stjepan Radi�. In June 1929, the court sentenced Rači� to twenty years in prison, a sentence deemed much too lenient by Croats. Moreover, the court and the Serb press had angered Croats by largely accepting Rači�’s argument that he had acted without premeditation and in defence of his own honour. The usually mild-mannered British diplomats thought that only the death sentence would have sufficed. Certainly, they were correct to write that “the Serbs are not likely to hear the last of this for a long time.”94 The British magazine Near East, which followed Balkan developments, reported on the trial in hilariously scathing terms: It is, perhaps, a matter for regret that the Serbian judges who tried Rachitch did not act more fully up to the spirit of the Dictatorship by finding the prisoner not guilty and liberating him. They would, at least, have rendered signal service to the cause of decency in debate in the Yugoslav Parliament; for the most fiery of deputies would be encouraged to pick his words carefully, if it were once laid down that in Yugoslavia a revolver is a legitimate and the only suitable reprimand for an unparliamentary expression. A further logical development would have been the appointment of Rachitch, an expert marksman, as permanent President of a restored Skupshtina, armed with a revolver instead of with merely a bell, which is so often inaudible in the course of a warm debate.95

Feelers that the leaders of the banned HSS sent out to British and French diplomats and politicians were unproductive during this time. Yugoslavia’s two principal allies were wary of the threat posed to regional security by Italian and Hungarian irredentism and had no desire to foment internal unrest. Meanwhile, the regime heightened its vigilance against the extremist Ustaša group led by the Croat rightist lawyer Ante Paveli�.96 In July 1929, the State Court for the Protection of the State sentenced Paveli� and his associate Gustav Perčec to death in absentia.97 Discontent had spread to Bosnian Muslim leaders as well. The banned JMO watched with dismay as the Minister of Justice, Milan Srški�, used

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the new Zakon o opštinama (Law on Municipalities) to remove hundreds of local officials from their posts in Bosnia and Herzegovina. The law allowed Srški� and his fellow (purportedly ex-)Radicals to take sweet revenge for their humiliation during the October 1928 local elections.98 At the beginning of February 1929, Mehmed Spaho, the leader of the disbanded JMO, wrote a letter of protest to King Aleksandar in which he charged that Radical partisans were “alive, and this in very prominent places in the state administration.” This had caused many in Bosnia to believe that “the new state of affairs here is a copy of earlier Radical regimes, and that is fundamentally at odds with the noble intentions of Your Majesty.”99 Opposition to the regime was by no means restricted to Croat nationalists and disgruntled JMO politicians. At around the same time, the Serbian Agrarian leader, Dragoljub Jovanovi�, ran afoul of the government. As noted earlier, the left wing of the Agrarians had from the outset opposed the 6 January coup. The Agrarian organ Rad (Work), banned on 28 January, had been the first victim of the stricter press law. On 3 April, the police, acting under the authority of the new law on state security, arrested the Agrarian leader, and two days later he was arraigned at the Court for State Protection on charges of scheming to destroy the state and social order. Jovanovi�, a professor at the University of Belgrade, had angered the police in late March by printing a pamphlet on peasant indebtedness and agrarian credit. “Among other things, he spoke of the need for a solution to the Croat question.”100 This pamphlet was in fact the printed version of a lecture that Jovanovi� had delivered at the university in December 1928. Significantly, the police had already known about its “dangerous” content thanks to student-agents who monitored politically suspect professors.101 Prominent Serbian intellectuals such as Slobodan Jovanovi� intervened, and the authorities released Dragoljub Jovanovi� on 12 April. Even so, the warning had been given: no one – including Serbs – was permitted to criticize the workings of the regime. This message was further reinforced in May 1929, when Svetozar Pribi�evi� was arrested and consigned to internal exile in the village of Brus in Serbia.102 At the beginning of July, the government issued a statement on its accomplishments during its first six months. In painstaking detail, each ministry laid out its accomplishments. The entire statement was an exercise in chest-beating, aimed at proving that more had been accomplished in six months than in the previous ten years. The government again focused on the themes of anti-corruption, depoliticization, and national and state unity.103

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Clearly, from the flood of decrees and pronouncements over the first few months of the regime, the country was moving towards centralization and not towards the opposite as had been promised. This assessment, shared by almost all observers, needs to be kept in mind when considering the response to the redistricting of the country in October 1929. In both the government and the opposition, there was a “chicken and egg” debate. That is, if it was unwise to tackle too many issues at once, what should be done first: redistrict the state, or reform its administration?104 Until October, the latter received most of the government’s attention. Politics aside, the financial and economic quagmire in which the country found itself was a serious obstacle to the state’s ambitions. The Yugoslav economy had been in recession at least since 1926, when American grain imports began to damage the economies of the Central European and Balkan states. This situation would worsen considerably with the onset of worldwide economic depression in 1929. Yugoslavia was keenly aware that it needed new loans, and its allies knew it as well, but the political situation was deterring international lenders.105 Among it allies and associates, the Yugoslav government tried hard to project an image of stability and progress. Yet it never developed a rational plan for dealing with the Great Depression. On the contrary, during the first year of the dictatorship, ministries began to cancel their plans to reduce the size of the civil service, fearing that the redundancies would stoke social unrest.106 Incredibly, as a result of this recalcitrance and the flood of new university graduates, the civil service would actually double in size by 1937, with corresponding harmful effects for the country as a whole. Instead of improving the civil service, the government’s cowardice allowed the public sector to become ever more inefficient and bloated.107 Yet the government realized that it did not have enough funds to cover – to mention but one example – the printing of new standardized Yugoslav textbooks for schools. This was a matter of central importance to the regime, because in 1929, schools in Yugoslavia were still not using the same textbooks. This meant, for instance, that students in former Habsburg areas often learned from textbooks that featured overtly hostile coverage (if any) of Serbia. “There had been a number of curriculum changes, but they did not alter the basic thrust of prewar education. Students still were taught Serbianism, Croatianism, and Slovenianism, as had been their parents and grandparents.”108 And the handful of

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new schoolbooks that had been approved by the Ministry of Education were skewed in favour of Serbia and Serbian values.109 By June, British diplomats in Yugoslavia were beginning to detect rumours about a change in the regime. In his farewell report, Kennard reported to the Foreign Office that “the King was nervous and disappointed in the results of the new régime, and that His Majesty even intended to replace General Zivkovitch by some other Premier.” Kennard unhesitatingly labelled such stories as “tendentious,” but he also noted that King Aleksandar himself seemed less than happy about progress in the country. Rumour had it that Živkovi� wanted to return to the military and that Korošec, the sole Slovene minister, was threatening to resign from the cabinet. No improvement could be detected in relations between Serbs and Croats. Moreover, the king was, in Kennard’s opinion, losing touch with the country’s political realities, and government ministers were still behaving selfishly.110 Despite the rumours, the regime continued to project an image of confidence, and a bountiful harvest provided at least some genuine good news. Only minor portfolio changes were made during the summer of 1929.111 Appealing to the King As we have seen, the Sixth of January dictatorship raised high hopes. But within a few months of the king’s proclamation, many people had begun to nourish doubts. For those who still had to bribe the same village policeman, or face the wrath of a lazy and choleric bureaucrat, very little seemed to have changed since 6 January 1929. For these people, a direct appeal to the king offered the potential for their grievances to be redressed. Surely the king was unaware that lowly officials were perverting his grand plans and noble intentions? These hopes followed a pattern that has been observed by historians of other autocratic regimes in Europe. In the Russian Empire, peasants suffering at the hands of abusive officials thought that all could be solved if only “the good tsar” would intervene.112 In the twentieth century, in Nazi Germany, Bavarians exasperated with the excesses and abuses of local Nazi Bonzen continued to have faith in the “Hitler myth.” The “Führer without sin” enjoyed virtual immunity compared to the myriad “little Hitlers.”113 Protected by their own propaganda and charisma, autocratic leaders’ reputations could survive considerable economic, social, and political adversity with amazing resilience.

98  Making Yugoslavs

In Yugoslavia, plaintiffs to King Aleksandar emphasized their belief in national unity and their expectations for better lives after 6 January 1929. A letter sent by the leaders of Serb settlers in Podujevo in Kosovo in November 1929 offers a suitable example. These local leaders began by describing themselves as “loyal and faithful subjects” who in their new region enjoyed the “trust of the people without regard to earlier party labels and membership.” They claimed to have ecstatically greeted the Royal Proclamation in January. With the help of the new decrees, they had succeeded in removing unsuitable individuals from power. As such, everything had proceeded swimmingly until November, when the veliki župan of the Kosovo Region replaced the petitioners with representatives of the old “party people.” This move had left a “bad impression” among the villagers. To make matters worse in the eyes of these patriotic Serbs, the officials now in charge in Podujevo included a certain “Salija,” known as an inveterate seducer of local women, a former traitor from the First World War, and an “Albanian who cannot even begin to speak a word of Serbian, much less talk or mete out justice to the People.” Undaunted by this frustrating turn of events, the people of Podujevo had decided to take inspiration from the Royal Manifesto, which, in their paraphrasing of it, clearly stated that “there is no intermediary between YOU and YOUR PEOPLE.” In conclusion, “invoking the famous day and Proclamation, we remain hopeful for fair protection from the highest place, that we do not need an intermediary for our exalted KING, exclaiming LONG LIVE THE KING AND THE ROYAL HOUSE.”114 In another case, a group of “loyal” citizens of the township of Cabuna, near Virovitica in Slavonia, wrote to King Aleksandar. In the 1920s, during the years of “political passion,” the township clerk Rade Tomi� had abused his position to the detriment of “the township and its inhabitants … religious and tribal tolerance, and to the detriment of the essential interests of the State thought.” After the king unveiled his “exalted” manifesto in January 1929, Tomi� had been removed from his post, thereby returning to the population their “hope for justice.” Before the end of 1929, however, Tomi� had returned to his old position and resumed his abuses. The exasperated people of Cabuna therefore had decided to write to the ban (governor), Prime Minister Živkovi�, and King Aleksandar. “With this step of ours, we turn to the High Throne of Your Majesty, expecting help and consolation only from Your Majesty. And that help and consolation will come to us only if our cry is heard,

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and that cry states: ‘Let His Majesty Our Most Exalted King liberate us from Rade Tomi�!’”115 Tomi� was duly transferred from Cabuna; the pleas of its inhabitants were thereby satisfied.116 A few points bear emphasizing here. First, these supplications are consistently saturated with idealism and humiliation. The aforementioned petitioners from Podujevo emphasize three times in as many pages that they are loyal and obedient servants of the king. Second, these petitions tend to interpret the Royal Manifesto literally, both in its delineation of goals and in its promise of direct contact between people and king. Third, like the regime itself, the petitioners differentiate strongly between the “bad old days” of parliamentary chaos and the supposedly better present. Finally, especially in petitions from nonSerb areas, the supplicants take pains to emphasize their loyalty to the Yugoslav idea. The letters of Croats in particular tend to include sentences in which so-called tribal thoughts are disavowed. Unfortunately, while one can construct an “ideal petition” from the period of the dictatorship, it is nearly impossible to generalize about the regime’s responsiveness to such appeals. As with the letters and notes of support sent to the regime, we simply have no way of knowing how many of these documents survive. This makes a rigorous quantitative or qualitative analysis virtually impossible. To complicate matters, the records are very often incomplete, which makes it difficult to determine whether a given petition succeeded. Certainly, though, the Royal Chancellery methodically asked the local authorities for detailed background information and for updates on the issues raised by petitioners. This, of course, did the petitioners little good if the Royal Chancellery consulted the very officials whom the petitioners were out to remove.117 One must maintain a critical perspective on these letters. People who appealed to the king represented a self-selecting subgroup of the population. Also, petitioners to the king obviously had every reason to emphasize their loyalty to Yugoslavism and to the state. Like the petitions from revolutionary France, the petitions during the years of the Yugoslav dictatorship tended to regurgitate the regime’s image of itself. (Yes, their lives had been awful until 6 January 1929; yes, the manifesto had changed their lives for the better; yes, they had rejected their tribal identities in favour of the one true Yugoslav identity.) All of that said, many petitioners formulated their appeals in distinct ways that help us understand how they perceived the regime.

100  Making Yugoslavs

From Tribalism to Nationalism The regime of King Aleksandar had vowed to eliminate interethnic and interfaith distrust and antipathy throughout the country. As seen earlier, the government had taken significant steps in this direction by enacting laws that banned organizations with “tribal” or religious labels. An increasing number of laws contained specific language to this effect. But this did not take the shape of a comprehensive campaign until early October 1929. On 3 October 1929, King Aleksandar, with the Zakon o nazivu i podeli Kraljevine na upravna područja (Law on the Name and Division of the Kingdom into Administrative Regions), unveiled the single most important change in the country since the beginning of his regime.118 Instead of the “Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes,” the state would henceforth be known officially as the “Kingdom of Yugoslavia.” Since almost everyone had long used the term “Yugoslavia” in daily communications, this simply confirmed a fact; however, the change carried huge symbolic weight. It signified the shift from a state of three peoples to a unitary state. Much more importantly, the long-rumoured plans for a new administrative architecture now came to fruition. With the same law, the regime announced the redistricting of the country, effective in two months.119 In place of the previous thirty-three oblasti (regions), the country would henceforth be divided into nine provinces, to be known as banovine (singular, banovina). The capital would remain in Belgrade. It, along with the neighbouring cities of Zemun and Pančevo, would constitute a special administrative district (Uprava grada Beograda, or Administration of the City of Belgrade) directly subject to the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Historians attempting to trace the origins of the banovinas face a very difficult task. Almost nothing survives in the former Yugoslav archives in the way of drafts or discussions of prospective banovina boundaries.120 Historians tend to agree that the Minister of Justice, Milan Srški�, was the impetus behind the banovina project, but they also believe that the idea stemmed from the king’s genuine desire to unite his peoples as one nation.121 Whatever the case may be, one can see traces of the origins of the banovinas in regime proclamations as early as 6 January 1929 and even to some extent in Srški�’s statements during the autumn of 1928. A quick journey back to the dying days of parliamentarism shows that Srški�’s zeal for repartitioning Yugoslavia was fuelled by less than

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altruistic motives.122 He was seeking to eliminate Bosnia and Herzegovina as an integral geographical unit and, with that, the JMO’s grip on the Bosnian polity. As mentioned earlier, that grip had tightened after the October 1928 local elections.123 In Sarajevo, on the very day of the elections, Srški� had published the first issue of a new newspaper, Glas Bosne (The Voice of Bosnia). It began with a strident editorial on the need to preserve a “national” (read: Serb) Bosnia-Herzegovina. According to the paper, a “Serb, manly voice” needed to be heard in these troubled times, and Bosnian Serb politicians needed to spread the message that Bosnia-Herzegovina once against must be defended against the “Turks” and the “šuckor” (the Habsburg auxiliary Schutzkorps).124 On the Bosnian Muslim side, the JMO whipped up emotions by pitching the elections as “a political manifestation of the unity of Muslim voters.” Quite accurately, the JMO argued that the Radicals were trying to hoard patriotism to themselves and to portray the JMO as traitors. The day before the elections, Srški� had declared: “I inform [Spaho] that Bosnia and Herzegovina completed its magnificent national mission with the day of our liberation [from Habsburg rule by Serb troops] and unification. From the time of liberation and until today I have always striven for the disappearance forever of Bosnia and Herzegovina as a regional individuality and as a geographical notion.”125 After the JMO made large gains in the elections, Srški� continued to rail against it, publicly jousting with Mehmed Spaho, the JMO leader. In the words of historian Atif Purivatra, the depressing verdict of the October 1928 elections was “that it had once again come to an expression of religiousnational character … Because of unsolved economic, social, political, and national problems, exacerbated by Serb, Croat, and Muslim bourgeois politicians, everything led increasingly toward the political and national isolation of the peoples living in Bosnia and Herzegovina.”126 The dictatorship, with its harsh laws and strong ideology, provided Srški� with the perfect tools for destroying the JMO. He pursued this goal for at least three reasons. First, he had long harboured a strong personal animosity towards that party. Second, the JMO’s program of regional autonomy and territorial integrity for Bosnia and Herzegovina was anathema to Srški�. He was careful to justify ending Bosnia and Herzegovina’s territorial integrity by claiming that doing so would help build Yugoslavism, but this in no way convinced the Bosnian Muslims.127 Finally, in the eyes of the Sixth of January regime, the JMO, as a party that combined religion with politics, had to be eliminated.

102  Making Yugoslavs

The official line was that the banovina system would rationalize Yugoslavia’s administration and economy and erase outdated tribal labels.128 They would serve to decentralize the state in that more responsibility would be delegated to the newly created regions. According to the semi-official explanation given in Politika, in determining the borders of the new Banovinas, foremost care was taken to make the borders natural, i.e. they run along mountain ranges or large rivers. In addition, care was taken to ensure that they take advantage of the communicative and natural links of individual regions with the individual centres towards which they gravitate. Furthermore, care was taken that individual Banovinas be large enough to survive economically and finally that this division completely meet the needs of state administration.129

Except for Littoral Banovina, all were to be named after major rivers. The choice of the term banovina was a prudent one. It was derived from ban (governor, pl. banovi), whose provenance was Croatian and Bosnian, not Serbian.130 In medieval Croatia and Bosnia, the ban, or banus, had been the title held by the highest-ranking regional official appointed by the king.131 As such, the term amounted to a concession to the Croats. For each banovina, King Aleksandar would appoint one ban, who would be accountable only to him. Like all other state officials, the ban was a “representative of the royal government” (predstavnik kraljevske vlade) and, as such, served exclusively at the king’s pleasure. There was no set term of office for the bans.132 Although it was not generally commented on at the time, the backgrounds of the bans in some ways reinforced the doubts regarding the “new” nature of Aleksandar’s regime.133 Namely, as had been the case with the ministers appointed to serve in the government, a very large number of the bans had been politically active at the highest levels in Yugoslavia before 1929. Table 3.2 makes this clear. In addition, it is difficult to see how the bans – as personal appointees of the king – would implement decentralization in practice. As Nedim Šarac noted in his study of the dictatorship, centralization actually increased beyond the already high levels evident in the Vidovdan Constitution, and the creation of the banovina was therefore a masquerade, a deceptive “substitute” for federalism.134 It would soon become clear that the main determinant in the establishment of the banovinas was not economics,

Table 3.2. Banovinas Name

Capital

Composition135

Size (in sq. km)136

Drava (Dravska)

Ljubljana

Slovenia

15,936

Sava (Savska)

Zagreb

Croatia-Slavonia without Syrmia and portions of eastern Slavonia

36,897

Vrbas (Vrbaska)

Banja Luka

Northwestern and northern Bosnia

20,558

Drina (Drinska)

Sarajevo

Southeastern Bosnia and Herzegovina, western portions of Serbia, portions of eastern Slavonia

29,273

Littoral (Primorska)

Split

Northern and central Yugoslav Dalmatia and western Herzegovina

19,417

Danube (Dunavska)

Novi Sad

Vojvodina, Baranja, Yugoslav Banat, north-central Serbia

28,160

Morava (Moravska)

Niš

South-central Serbia and part of Kosovo

25,721

Zeta (Zetska)

Cetinje

Montenegro, part of Sandžak, Metohija, southeastern Bosnia and Herzegovina, and southern Dalmatia

32,322

Vardar (Vardarska)

Skopje

Yugoslav Macedonia, part of Kosovo and southern Serbia

39,566

Table 3.3. Bans Banovina

Ban137

Previous Party Affiliation

Former Minister?

Position/Occupation Prior to Appointment

Drava

Dušan Sernec (SL)

SLS

Yes

Governor, Ljubljana Region

Sava

Josip Šilovic´ (C)

None

No

Retired professor; member of Supreme Legislative Council

Vrbas

Svetislav Tisa Milosavljevic´ (S)

Military

Yes

Retired general and minister

Drina

Velimir Popovic´ (S)

Radical

No

Former minister without portfolio

Littoral

Ivo Tartalja (C)

None

No

Vice-President of Municipality of Split; President of Jadranska straža138 (Continued )

104  Making Yugoslavs Table 3.3. (Continued ) Banovina

Ban137

Previous Party Affiliation

Former Minister?

Position/Occupation Prior to Appointment

Danube

Daka Popovic´ (S)

Radical

Yes

Retired minister

Morava

¯Dord¯e Nestorovic´ (S)

Democrat

No

Member of Supreme Legislative Council

Zeta

Krsta Smiljanic´ (S)

Military

No

Retired general

Vardar

Živojin Lazic´ (S)

Radical

No

Assistant Minister of Internal Affairs

nor was it geography. Rather, as Politika had hinted, the purpose of the banovinas was “to meet the needs of state administration.” In other words, the needs of the banovinas would always remain subservient to the needs of the centre. Despite this clear and direct link between the banovina and the centre of power, the regime in Belgrade continued to insist that the new state administration would encourage decentralization.139 In light of this claim, a detailed description offered by Politika of the tasks the bans would manage directly verges on comical. The newspaper provided a laundry list of these, which included such matters as veterinary medicine and meteorology. Perhaps because of this broad mandate, the actual dividing lines between the jurisdictions of the bans, local officials, and the central government remained vague. Article 29 of the Law on Banovina Administration stated only that the ban was free to take charge of issues that “do not have importance for the entire state.” Given the central government’s propensity to attach “national importance” to a wide array of issues, this opened the potential for protracted struggles over bureaucratic turf and for micromanagement by the centre. Time would show that the centre would consistently win such struggles.140 To manage his myriad duties, each ban commanded his own administrative and executive apparatus, known as the Kraljevska banska uprava (Royal Banovina Administration, or KBU).141 This contained seven departments: 1. Opšte odeljenje General Department

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2. Upravno odeljenje Administrative Department 3. Poljoprivredno odeljenje Agricultural Department 4. Prosvetno odeljenje Educational Department 5. Tehničko odeljenje Technical Department 6. Odeljenje za socijalnu politiku i narodno zdravlje Department for Social Policy and Public Health 7. Finansijsko odeljenje Financial Department An eighth department, the Odeljenje za trgovinu, obrt i industriju (Department for Trade, Crafts, and Industry), was included for banovinas with a specific need for such a section. The jurisdictions of the seven (or eight) departments can be succinctly described. The General Department housed the secretariat and took care of personnel matters; it also handled correspondence and communication among the departments and other banovinas as well as between the centre and the banovina. The Administrative Department included divisions for administration, public and state security, and self-administration; it also was the principal correspondent at the banovina level with the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The Agricultural Department dealt with all questions related to agriculture and forestry. The Education Department presided over schools and a multitude of cultural activities under the rubric narodno prosvećivanje (popular enlightenment). The Technical Department maintained the banovina’s material infrastructure (bridges, roads, railways, public utilities). The Department for Social Policy and Public Health oversaw the physical and social welfare of the population. The Financial Department kept track of all accounts and budgetary matters. Finally, where applicable, the Department for Trade, Crafts, and Industry directed the industrial and commercial development of the banovina as well as the operations of mines. In the context of this book, the key departments were the Educational Department and the Administrative Department. The latter housed

106  Making Yugoslavs

the Odsek javne bezbednosti (Section of Public Security) or, as it came to be known almost immediately, the Odsek za državnu zaštitu (Section for State Protection).142 This section had a broad mandate to pursue all potential internal enemies of the state in an aggressive and preventative manner. It also monitored the whereabouts and dealings of foreign nationals for the duration of their stay in the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. To this end, it cooperated with the Ministry of Internal Affairs and, as needed, with other ministries such as the Ministry of the Army and Navy.143 All laws, regulations, and administrative decisions within the jurisdiction of a particular banovina were to be published in its Službene novine (legal gazette). Also, each banovina had a Bansko veće or vijeće (Banovina Council), comprised of twenty to thirty “primary persons [prvenstvena lica], who by virtue of their expert training can best serve the interests of the banovinas.”144 In theory, this council was an “advisory organ” for the ban. In practice, it was a talking shop that met only rarely to make vacuous and sycophantic comments. All of this administrative restructuring only confirmed what many Croats and other non-Serbs had increasingly feared regarding the regime’s intentions. From the nationalist Croat perspective, the establishment of the nine banovinas amounted to a thorough gerrymandering of the state so as to favour the Serbs. For example, Croats were the majority in only two of the banovinas; Serbs, in six. And if this favouritism was obvious to the Croats, it was even more so from the perspective of the Muslims of Bosnia and Herzegovina and the Sandžak. Those two territories had been divided in such a way that in no region did the Muslims hold a majority. Moreover, for the Muslims of Bosnia and Herzegovina, the redistricting had profoundly negative political and symbolic implications. In particular, it destroyed the territorial integrity of Bosnia and Herzegovina, which the JMO had spent the first decade of Yugoslavia defending, and which the Vidovdan Constitution, for all its failings, had at least guaranteed.145 Political observers, both in the government and in the opposition, realized that the banovinas favoured the Serbs. The Croat politician Ante Trumbi� argued that the posrbljivanje (Serbianization) of Muslims “would advance such that with their help [the Serbs] will have an abs[olute] majority and will with the help of the cent[ral] authorities in Belgrade be able to count with confidence on Serbian dominance in

The Dictatorship’s First Year  107 Figure 3.1. Religious demographics of the banovinas146 100% 90% 80%

Religion

70%

Other Jewish ("Israelite")

60% 50%

Evangelical

40%

Muslim

30%

Orthodox Catholic

20% 10% 0%

Banovina

B[osnia]-H[erzegovina].”147 This made it very difficult for Trumbi� to sustain a benevolent view of the government’s intentions. The new administrative borders established Serb majorities in Vojvodina and Macedonia. This reflected the Yugoslav government’s claim that Macedonians and Muslim Slavs were “Southern Serbs.”148 In many cases, existing counties were partitioned when the boundaries of the banovinas were drawn, which only added to the administrative chaos. A number of Serb historians have suggested that the banovinas and the ideology of Yugoslavism weakened Serb national identity.149 They point out that Yugoslavism also sought to surmount the Serb “tribal” identity and that the state in October 1929 had divided the territory of Serbia into several banovinas. However, as Perko Vojinovi�, himself a Serb historian with strong nationalist credentials, has pointed out, the regime’s approach to strengthening Yugoslavia included ensuring that Serbs were the dominant group in six of the nine banovinas.150 King Aleksandar and his regime viewed the Serbs as the most loyal, prostate element. Moreover, as we shall see, many Serb historians ignore

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the great extent to which the new Yugoslav idea was founded on Serbian cultural symbols and beliefs. It was no accident, then, that six of the banovinas were majority-Serb. Thus, during the audience where King Aleksandar informed Svetislav “Tisa” Milosavljevi� that he would become the ban of Vrbas Banovina, the king gave the following general instructions: Above all, remember, Tisa, that you are my personal choice for the position of ban, and specifically for Vrbas Banovina, where great national work awaits you. There, Serbs are in the majority, and they are the best Serbs overall with respect to love for the fatherland and patriotism. But among the Muslims and Croats living there, there still exist individuals and smaller groups who have not reconciled themselves to the new actual state of affairs. And therefore, you will have work to do on that account as well. Try to maintain good relations with those dissatisfied elements and to win them over slowly to the idea of state and national unity. And where you must prevent harmful action, be decisive, do not relent, and break it off at the root, not letting yourself enter into frontal battle.151

Notwithstanding the concerns of the opposition and of non-Serbs in general, the act of 3 October undoubtedly gave the regime a needed propaganda boost. Officially, of course, the entire Yugoslav “nation” euphorically welcomed the state’s renaissance as “Yugoslavia.” On 5 October, Politika published on its front page a letter from an anonymous “well-known, respected Yugoslav national worker [narodni radnik], a Croat.” Invoking the legacy of Stjepan Radi�, the author inveighed that “it can be said with undoubted confidence: no serious Croat will have anything against the name Yugoslavia for our state … Because the King wants Yugoslavia – and the People want Yugoslavia.” By implication, only selfish, narrow-minded politicians who had not accepted the glories of the new regime would be unable to see the virtues of the banovina system. The author, giving his name only as “P,” went on to praise ecstatically the term banovinas. “And what has especially touched the hearts of Croats accustomed to seeing in the thousand-year institution of the ban a living reminder of former glory, greatness, and national honour, is the fact that this old historical Croatian institution is extrapolated onto the whole Kingdom, and that it is now all divided into Banovinas, as the nine regions into which the country has been divided shall henceforth be called.”152 Equally effervescent greetings of the banovinas were reported from Sarajevo, Novi Sad, and Dubrovnik. An anonymous javni radnik (public

The Dictatorship’s First Year  109

worker) in Vojvodina hailed the mixture of populations that would emerge in the Danube Banovina. “Vojvodina needs a renewal of its racial stock [rasni fond] and who better to provide it than Šumadija, which is in reality the synthesis of our most racially fresh regions: Raška and Herzegovina, [and] the Morava and Kosovo types.” In Sarajevo, “people, regardless of faith or tribe, received the news of the division of the country with the greatest enthusiasm. The general opinion is that with this act, a permanent end has been put to the convulsions in the economic and political life of these regions, which have because of this suffered so much. The interest of the people for the law on the new division of the country is enormous … It is the only topic of conversation.”153 In Dubrovnik, the mayor, Dr Miči�, spoke to the citizens about the wonderful synthesis he expected would result from the encounter of the southern Dalmatian coast with the rough Montenegrin hinterland. Although noting that some might be disappointed that Cetinje and not Dubrovnik had become the capital of Zeta Banovina, he argued that here one could learn from the tradition of heroic Serbian self-sacrifice: State interest has determined that Dubrovnik should not be the seat of the new banovina. Let the example of sacrifice which Serbia has given us convince us that we must forget our individual and sentimental interests, if the interest of the state demands this. Therefore Dubrovnik will neither lose nor suffer a reduction of reputation … Let the most beautiful harmony in work for the mutual benefit and bloom of Yugoslavia dominate between Dubrovnik and its brethren over the mountains … Led by the King who has given us this great proof that he wants only Yugoslavia, we line up in impenetrable phalanxes because in so doing we gravitate toward one goal, a great Yugoslavia.154

Finally, A. Jamnik of Ljubljana, whose letters to the king were mentioned earlier in the chapter, regained some of the enthusiasm he had earlier lost. With the decrees of 3 October, he wrote, “the entire life is put into a new phase. Except for professional politicians, the entire people has sincerely greeted the law. This is all the more the case, since before that politicians were creating some talk, that everything is going to continue along an exclusively Great Serbian track, [and that] of course, the court camarilla supports this manner [of action].”155 Similar messages of support and congratulation came from other citizens.156 From the regime’s perspective, the logical next step after the creation of the banovinas was for the country’s citizens to meet one another face to face – ideally, in conjunction with visits to Belgrade in which the

110  Making Yugoslavs

citizens would declare their loyalty to the throne and express their profound satisfaction with political and economic developments in the country. To this end, in October 1929, shortly after the banovinas were announced, a series of poklonstvene delegacije or poklonstvene deputacije (fealty delegations) began to arrive in Belgrade from around the country.157 Despite the high profile afforded these delegations during the first year of the dictatorship, historians have largely neglected to examine them.158 The archival materials relating to these delegations, including press clippings, indicate that the regime intended to extract maximum propaganda from these pilgrimages to the capital. The (exclusively male) delegations were hand-picked by local and banovina officials. As the 1930–1 almanac for Drina Banovina indicated in listing the members of its deputation, the deputies were “people of popular trust, including presidents of city and village communities, clergy, farmers, industrialists, craftsmen, merchants, and citizens of the free professions.”159 In Vrbas Banovina, local officials submitted lists of candidates for the delegations to the banovina administration, which then forwarded a final list to the Royal Court. Such lists included information on each possible delegate’s residence, profession, and former party affiliation and political activity, if any. That these details were provided supports the hypothesis that the regime was using the delegations to co-opt former party politicians. And indeed, most delegates were former members of political parties.160 Officials were also asked to comment on “what kind of reputation [the potential delegate] enjoys in the place of residence with regards to his social position.” The delegations varied in size, but at least one exceed one thousand people. The delegations quickly took on a ritual form, with set pronouncements and ceremonies. The pattern of the visits to Belgrade was as follows. The authorities arranged for free transportation from the provinces to the nearest major city (e.g., Zagreb) and from there to Belgrade. When the delegates arrived in Belgrade, government officials and Serb peasants greeted them at the train station. On their first day in the capital, the enthusiastic delegates had the opportunity to meet King Aleksandar. Peasants were chosen to read paeans of loyalty and love to the ruler, specifically thanking him for his manifesto, which was depicted as a panacea. A willingness to sacrifice their blood and lives, disgust with the past parliamentary “chaos,” and an affirmation of the national “oneness” of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes in the Yugoslav nation figured as major themes in these speeches. The king then replied to all this with a brief, stirring speech of welcome.161 The rest of the visit consisted of visits to Serbian villages, as

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well as the laying of wreaths at the Tomb of the Unknown (Serbian) Soldier at Avala near Belgrade and at the grave of King Petar Karađorđevi� in Oplenac. The leaders of the delegation invariably made speeches in which they profusely thanked the king for his manifestos of 6 Janu­ ary and 3 October, noting that only his visionary deeds had made it possible for the Yugoslav tribes to transcend their differences. Usually, the speakers also paid homage to the tremendous sacrifice made by the Serb nation in the Balkan Wars and especially in the First World War. The achievements of the regime were placed in stark contrast to the egoistic and short-sighted policies of the old party politicians. True, Croat speakers often invoked the legacy of Stjepan Radi�, but he was safely dead, and he had in his dying weeks made enough comments praising the king and calling for a neutral government to make him seem a supporter of the regime. The media, by this point bound by draconian press laws, gave extensive and entirely positive coverage to these visits. The Royal Central Press Bureau, established in April 1929, served as a coordinating agency for the media, setting the tone that other journalists were encouraged to follow. Significantly, the first delegation to visit Belgrade, on 19 October, was a group of Croat zadrugari (members of peasant collectives).162 Prime Minister Živkovi� and King Aleksandar received them. One of the leaders of the delegation, the peasant Antun Ðuki� from Oriovac, praised the king for creating the Kingdom of Yugoslavia through the act of 3 October. While Ðuki� regretted that King Aleksandar had postponed a planned trip to Zagreb, he hoped that all Croats would soon have the opportunity to see their king in person. Živkovi� reminded the delegates that they should not hesitate to lodge complaints with the government if they saw failings in the system or had special needs.163 The following day, the Croat peasant delegates went on a tour of Šumadija. In Topola, Periša Risti�, the treasurer for the local peasant credit union, made a speech in honour of the visiting “brother Yugoslav peasants from Croatia.” He reminded them of the significance of this place, where Karađorđe had led the Serbs in an uprising against the Ottoman Empire. Here, “over 100 years ago, the first gun was fired for the liberation of not only Serbdom but of all Yugoslavdom, Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes.” Ðuki� replied that “as happy as we are that you have come, we are even happier and more pleased that we have awaited this joyous day, when we come to the heart of Šumadija, in the heart of the former, beautiful Serbia, and now Yugoslavia. We are brothers by blood and language. An evil destiny long divided us. Today, we must be happy that we have lived to meet each other freely, that we Croat

112  Making Yugoslavs

peasants can freely come to greet you.”164 All in all, the Croat peasants spent nearly a month in Serbia before returning home. Prominent pro-regime intellectuals pitched in to foster a positive atmosphere of Yugoslavism. At the end of October, the Serb diplomat and poet Jovan Duči� repeated the theme of the reunion of long-estranged blood brothers: One blood and one country! One nation [narod] and one name! One fatherland and one patriotism! One future and one duty! One language and one national culture! One tradition and one history! Or in a short and brilliant definition: one history and one state! That is the new and powerful energy which has recently received the name Yugoslavia, and which chases away all errors and states precisely all concepts … We are not brothers but instead the same being … We speak neither Serbian nor Croatian but instead our language [naški], as the wise people of Dubrovnik have always called their language.

For Duči�, the very word “Yugoslavia” no longer denoted merely a thought or a country – it was “religious.”165 In December and January, poklonstvene delegacije from every banovina visited Belgrade. On 17 December, more than one thousand delegates from the Sava and Littoral Banovinas arrived at the Court. Besides reiterating the standard themes, the predominantly Croat peasants brought two additional messages. First, they viewed the king as the legitimate heir to the legacy of Stjepan Radi�.166 Second, they condemned the “treasonous work” of those Croats who had joined Ante Paveli� and his Ustaša in terrorist camps abroad. King Aleksandar, who was that day celebrating his birthday, told them that “it pleases me to see delegates from Sava and Littoral Banovinas on this day, and that I have heard from you, representatives of Croatian towns and associations, that the people have correctly understood and unanimously accepted My efforts of 6 January and 3 October, which seek only to solidify indivisible national unity, brotherly love, and full equality, to strengthen our beautiful Yugoslavia and to elevate it socially.”167 On 25 December, the king received a deputation from the Morava and Vardar banovinas, and four days later two more from the Zeta and Vrbas banovinas.168 Finally, on 11 January, delegations from the Danube, Drina, and Drava banovinas visited Belgrade.169 The delegates brought news that tremendous progress was being made in their areas of the country.170 All the while during this parade of pilgrims, media coverage was effusively positive

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and ignored any awkward details. For instance, although Živkovi� had implored the first Croat delegation to present their demands to King Aleksandar, he suppressed the publication of their main declaration because it contained demands that could be construed as federalist.171 Loyalty from Cradle to Grave: The Yugoslav Sokol Movement Also in December 1929, the government launched a strong effort to consolidate culture. The Sokol (Falcon) movement, a pan-Slavic youth physical fitness organization with regional-cum-national branches, was the principal agent of this drive for cultural synthesis. In particular, the regime acted against the Croat Sokol and the Croat and Slovene Orao (Eagle, plural Orlovi), the latter a Catholic youth organization based in Ljubljana. As part of its campaign against “tribal” organizations, the state announced on 5 December that all “tribal” chapters and branches of the Sokol were to merge into a new Savez Sokola Kraljevine Jugoslavije (Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia). The Orlovi were also ordered to disband but were able to survive by reinventing themselves as religious fraternities.172 The Sokol movement had its roots in the Czech lands. Founded in 1862 by a Czech, Miroslav Tyrš, it combined pan-Slavic and liberal nationalist ideology with mass physical exercise, mostly in the form of gymnastics.173 In the South Slav lands, the Slovenes in 1863 were the first to establish a Sokol organization.174 The movement then spread quickly to Croatia. Croatian Serbs founded their own Sokol in May 1905. This latter organization encountered frequent problems with Habsburg officials, who feared – not without reason – that it would be a source of Serb nationalist agitation. In general, the pre-1914 Sokol movements in the South Slav lands had a Yugoslav orientation.175 Although always “apolitical” on the surface, the Sokol movement inevitably served various political agendas. The politicized aspects of the Sokol movement persisted after the founding of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. On St Vitus’s Day in 1919, the various Sokol organizations voted to merge. The new, joint banner was to read “one state, one nation [narod], one Sokol.”176 Almost immediately, however, the Sokol movement began to splinter. In 1920, the Serb Sokol was excluded from the Yugoslav Sokol movement for refusing to discard its “tribal” name. The Croat Sokol movement, meanwhile, split between pro-Yugoslav Croats who wanted to disband voluntarily and merge with the Yugoslav Sokol movement based in

114  Making Yugoslavs

Ljubljana, and those who wished to maintain a distinct Croat Sokol. In 1922, a distinct Croat Sokol was founded. In the 1920s, a low-intensity struggle developed throughout the Croat part of the kingdom between these two Sokol movements. The Yugoslav Sokol saw itself as the vanguard of a liberal and anti-clerical Yugoslavism; the Croat Sokol strove to protect the distinct (Catholic) Croat identity.177 The Yugoslav Sokol movement received financial, logistical, and political support from the state; the Croat Sokol survived on membership contributions.178 As nationals swelled the ranks of the Croat Sokol, tensions grew between the two organizations. It was not unheard of for members of the two organizations to clash on the streets, much like soccer hooligans.179 After 6 January 1929, the new environment of national harmony was supposed to extinguish such confrontations, along with all other manifestations of “tribal strife.” From the state’s perspective, the Sokol movement was crucial to transmitting Yugoslav ideology from the centre to the population. The Sokol movement was to play a leading role in efforts to create healthy young Yugoslavs who would be loyal to the fatherland and the king. The Croat Sokol was seen as a “nest” of “tribal irredentism” (as were other Croat cultural organizations). Illegal manifestations of Croat “tribalism” such as the singing of Croat songs often accompanied Croat Sokol celebrations, with local officials turning a blind eye or even participating. In July 1929, one faction of the Croat Sokol attempted unsuccessfully to force a merger with the Yugoslav Sokol. In late August 1929, angered by such laxness, Prime Minister Živkovi� ordered that all local authorities be informed that such behaviour would no longer be tolerated and that offending officials would bear the “the strictest legal responsibility.”180 Of the rival Sokol organizations existing in 1929, the Jugoslovenski sokolski savez (Yugoslav Sokol Union) received the most state support. When faced with muted local enthusiasm for their activities or with opposition from Roman Catholic clergy, this organization did not hesitate to make its grievances known to the state. For instance, in April 1929 the Sokol society in Kotor, on Montenegro’s Adriatic coast, sent a critical report to its parent Sokol unit in Cetinje. The Kotor Sokol complained that “catechist-Catholics” were preventing local children from participating in the Sokol and that few teachers supported the Sokol. In addition, “not all military circles here in Kotor support the Sokol movement as much as military authorities usually do.” The Kotor Sokol noted that it actually had to ask in writing when it wanted the military’s help, “and

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this takes up much of our very valuable time.”181 Clearly, the Sokol expected state (including military) assistance as a matter of course. Throughout 1929, the Yugoslav Sokol Union, led by the Slovene writer and pedagogue Engelbert Gangl, pressed for a drastic expansion of its role in society. With the advent of the dictatorship, Gangl sensed an opportunity for his Sokol faction, and he grabbed it.182 In early March 1929, he submitted a draft law on physical education in the army to King Aleksandar. Under that law, the Yugoslav Sokol Union would oversee army physical education and would coordinate Sokol training for males and females from childhood well into adulthood. In the letter accompanying the draft law – which he also submitted to the Education, National Health, and Army and Navy Ministries – Gangl noted with pleasure that the king had taken an active and personal interest in the Sokol movement.183 Later the same month, the king granted Gangl an audience in Belgrade during which the two discussed plans to develop the Sokol movement so that it would “work for the King, the nation, and the fatherland.”184 In May 1929, the Yugoslav Sokol Union invited the Croat Sokol to end its schismatic behaviour. The Croats spurned the offer. In the summer and autumn of 1929, the Sokol was discussed at the highest levels. By June, Prime Minister Živkovi� had in his hands a report on the rebirth of “tribal” Sokol organizations in the kingdom. “Thus, in Zemun there is a Croat Sokol organized, and in Belgrade a Serb Sokol. As separatism is cultivated in this manner, he intends to make it impossible for such societies to organize themselves.” Živkovi� repeated the complaint that some officials were taking an all too passive attitude towards separatist Sokol movements. In the case at hand, members of the Croat Sokol societies in Zagreb, Sisak, and Subotica had allegedly sung the banned Croatian anthem “Lijepa naša domovino” (Our Beautiful Homeland) in the presence of state officials.185 From the minutes of the October Ministerial Council, it is clear that the government planned to intervene strongly to eliminate the “exclusively tribal politics” of the Croat Sokol Society in particular. For the struggle to come, Živkovi� demanded the “active cooperation” of “all circles.” Firm action was required because “a good portion of the people has not been able to understand the great meaning of the new orientation, the new epoch, and the new ideology.”186 But the government was also keen to appear even-handed. This, and its desire to exert absolute control, explains why it ordered the formal dissolution of the

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existing Yugoslav Sokol Union even as it created the Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia out of the very same fabric. In August, five months after his March audience, Gangl sent King Aleksandar a long letter in which he was blunt about his organization’s aims. “I regard it as the first task of the Sokol movement in the free state to: educate every member, and in this way also every member of the Yugoslav people such that he becomes a good, physically, mentally, and morally harmonically developed healthy person.”187 No citizen could be outside the Sokol organization. Gangl reiterated the call of the Yugoslav Sokol: “One people [narod], one state, one Sokol!” He envisioned a proactive and invasive role for the Sokol movement in the daily life of Yugoslavs. It would defend the Yugoslav state “with the blood of its best brothers” and would be “obliged to watch alertly and to take special care to wipe out anational phenomena in all fields of national life.” Particular care would be devoted to areas “where people are, owing to pressure from economic factors and traditions, still unconscious in the national sense.” Furthermore, “the Sokol movement asks its members that they deal everywhere, that is in private as well as public life, wherever their own demands intersect with the demands of other people, without exception in accordance with the demands of social righteousness and Sokol fraternity.” The success of the Sokol movement and (it followed) Yugoslavia depended on the willingness of Yugoslav citizens to sacrifice themselves in the struggle against “religious and separatist fanatics” in the Croat Sokol and other organizations. Combining organic and biblical language, Gangl claimed that those not in the Yugoslav Sokol movement poured “the poison of separatist and religious fanaticism” on “these open wounds whence flows the blood of national strength.” Those who did so bore “the label of national and moral treason of Cain’s mark … Outside of the Sokol movement there is no pure national life.” Finally, Gangl told the king that the pan-Slavic Sokol jamboree, scheduled for Belgrade in the summer of 1930, would be a marvellous opportunity for Yugoslavia to present itself as a strong and successful state.188 In the prevailing atmosphere, Gangl’s fervid intervention at the Royal Court on behalf of the Yugoslav Sokol Union began to bear fruit. The state redoubled its efforts to monitor and harass the other Sokol movements. By October 1929, as plans proceeded to draw up a law sanctifying a single Sokol organization, the Royal Chancellery sent letters to the Ministry of Education and the Ministry of Transportation asking them to assist the Yugoslav Sokol Union “permanently” and in every

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way possible, including through the “decisive and quick intervention of the state authorities and its organs.”189 The letters of the Chancellery and the minutes of the Ministerial Council noted that every ministry and every state organ had a role to play in implementing a single Sokol organization. For instance, Minister of Defence General Stevan Hadži� and Minister of Foreign Affairs Vojislav Marinkovi� stressed that the Sokol organization would benefit the military by preparing young men to respect authority, collective work, and discipline.190 In early December, the normally secretive Ministerial Council released a public communiqué that quoted a letter from King Aleksandar to Prime Minister Živkovi� in which the king approved the “beautiful thought, that all healthy forces of My dear people join together in one noble organization, the Sokol of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, for the goal of physical and moral education. With special satisfaction I adopt your suggestion that the Crown Prince of the Kingdom always be at the head of the Sokol of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia.”191 Clearly, the Ministerial Council had the king’s strong and explicit mandate to act decisively against the unruly “tribal” Sokol organizations. Ongoing clashes between Croat and Yugoslav Sokol members, and the regime’s exasperation with the political and Croat nationalist character of the Croat Sokol movement, led to the Zakon o osnivanju Sokola Kraljevine Jugoslavije (Law on the Establishment of the Sokol of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia), which banned all “tribal” Sokol movements – including, formally, even the “Yugoslav” Sokol movement.192 All branches of existing Sokol movements were given three weeks to either merge with the Sokol of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia or disband.193 It needs emphasizing here that, while the government tried to present its decision to ban “tribal” Sokol movements as a just and equal one, its strategy was perceived as an attack on Croat and (to a lesser extent) Slovene identity. The Yugoslav Sokol Union had been headquartered in Ljubljana; the Union of Sokols of Yugoslavia would operate from Belgrade. The president of the new Yugoslav Sokol was, of course, none other than Engelbert Gangl, with Crown Prince Petar serving as patron. The choice of Gangl, who had also led the defunct Yugoslav Sokol Union, underscored the continuity between the two organizations. The law tasked two ministries – Education, and Army and Navy – with overseeing the new Sokol organization. All students in state schools were encouraged to join the Sokol movement. The Zakon o narodnim školama (Law on Elementary Schools), decreed a few days

118  Making Yugoslavs

after the Law on the Establishment of the Sokol, specifically required students to study “physical exercises according to the Sokol system.”194 Male students could shorten their compulsory military service if they were active Sokol members. The law also directed the Ministry of Transportation to facilitate public transportation of Sokol members.195 One historian, Nikola Žuti�, has attempted to portray the Sokol movement in a liberal and apolitical light. In his view, the Sokol movement’s foremost aim was to foster the physical development of Yugoslav youth and the only politicization of the Sokol movement came as a result of the aggressive anti-Sokol attitude of Croat nationalists and, in particular, the Roman Catholic Church. Taking this a step further, he regards the Sokol movement’s protracted battle with the Roman Catholic Church as evidence of the former’s indelibly liberal character.196 This interpretation does not bear close scrutiny. It is clear from the laws just described that the Sokol movement was of central importance to the state after 1929. Also, the documents available in the Yugoslav archives show that the state regarded the Sokol movement as an extension of itself.197 Countless teachers lost their jobs because they opposed the Sokol movement. Against such educators, the state could and did employ Article Four of the Law on Bureaucrats, which specified that “a person who exhibits principles against existing state forms or principles against legal change of the state order cannot be a state employee.” In the routine implementation of this law, state officials clearly understood the Sokol movement to be one of those “existing state forms.”198 The state kept close track of attitudes towards the Sokol movement. Indeed, this became an important criterion for evaluating performance, especially for students and their teachers. When assessing teachers, school inspectors were required to evaluate their “success in instruction of national subjects,” “work on national enlightenment,” and “work in the Sokol of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia.”199 Active opposition to the movement was a serious matter, but so was mere passivity, which was enough in itself to raise questions about loyalty to the state. The Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia undoubtedly perceived itself as the embodiment of democratic ideals.200 Yet when we consider how it applied the broad powers vested in it by the dictatorship, Žuti�’s description of it as apolitical and liberal is baseless.201 As will be seen when we examine surveillance and policing in Yugoslavia, the regime was far from liberal. Since the state made it nearly impossible for anyone to openly oppose the Sokol organization, this led to a total conflation of opposition to the Sokol movement with opposition

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to the regime. Crown Prince Petar’s patronage of the organization symbolically reinforced this. State sponsorship of the Sokol organization extended to financial matters. The Sokol movement regularly received funds from the state treasury. In addition, it did not pay for postage when sending correspondence, its publications received state subsidies, and it enjoyed handsome tax breaks. All of this tilted the playing field heavily in favour of the Yugoslav Sokol. As a result, during the years of the dictatorship, the number of active adult Sokol members increased rapidly, from 36,529 in 1929 to 134,536 in 1934.202 Besides providing financial and material assistance, the state ensured that the Sokol movement maintained a high profile in society. The tightly controlled press gave steady and favourable coverage to Sokol meetings and conventions. Every self-respecting town erected a Sokolski dom (Sokol House) to serve as the focal point for all Sokol activities. The construction of these houses evolved into a building spree.203 Very often, royal names were conferred on these buildings with the permission of the Royal Court.204 The state often paid the construction costs. With the help of the Central Press Bureau, communities staged the openings of Sokol Houses as gala events, heavy with pomp and ceremony. Thus, in December 1931, the ban of Vrbas Banovina, General Svetislav Milosavljevi�, gave a rousing speech that could have left no one in doubt as to what citizens were supposed to think of the Sokol movement: The law of 5 December 1929 created a great and powerful organization, the Sokol of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Not only [my] duty as a citizen and representative of the High state administration, but also love and loyalty to our nation binds me to be a faithful friend and steadfast propagator of the Sokol idea.… In my opinion, indifference towards the Sokol of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia borders on treason against one’s own nation, and denotes the exposure of oneself and one’s own family to new sufferings and collapses. We must not forget that the Sokol movement assumes one of the most outstanding places among the forces entrusted with national defence, and that, by helping its work and voluntarily accepting its every invitation, we serve the highest interests of the Fatherland.205

Perhaps the most single important sign of the movement’s importance to Yugoslavia was provided by King Aleksandar on St Vitus’s Day in 1930. Speaking to assembed government officials, military officers, and Sokol dignitaries, the king sent an important message to the

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Yugoslav nation. “From cradle to grave you are bound to serve only Yugoslavia, the Yugoslav idea, theirs are all your muscles and your hearts, all your happiness and your ideals should be theirs, your aspirations and all your exertions. Your Sokol traditions seek this of you, that is the testament of those, who fell for the greatness of the Fatherland, that is my Royal greeting to you.”206 With these words, Sokol membership was elevated to a quasi-religion. By joining, individual Yugoslavs demonstrated respect for the sacrifices others had made for the fatherland in the First World War, even while preparing to sacrifice themselves should that ever be necessary. In the coming years, the Sokol organization and its supporters would be particularly fond of quoting the king’s words in their quest for ever more state funds and public attention. Given how highly politicized the Sokol organizations were before December 1929, powerful interest groups were bound to contest the state’s founding of the Yugoslav Sokol Union. The Roman Catholic Church spearheaded the opposition to the consolidation of all Sokol movements. Not without reason, the state suspected the Roman Catholic Church of using the semilegal Križari (Crusaders), an ostensibly religious organization, as a partial replacement for the disbanded Croat Sokol.207 The protracted battle between the Yugoslav Sokol and the Catholic Church will be examined more closely later. In studying the activities, publications, and statements of the Yugoslav Sokol movement during the royal dictatorship, it becomes hard to avoid comparisons with the communist youth organizations in Yugoslavia after 1945. In both the Yugoslav Sokol movement and the Savez komunističke omladine Jugoslavije (League of Communist Youth of Yugoslavia, or SKOJ), active membership in the organization was equated with patriotism and political loyalty. Anyone, member or not, who was perceived to be against that organization’s goals encountered immediate problems with the authorities. Active opposition to or criticism of the movement had become, as Ban Milosavljevi� noted, tantamount to treason. Of Yugoslav and Tribal Holidays Besides marking the birth of the Sokol Union of Yugoslavia, the month of December 1929 bore special significance because it included two of the most important state holidays, Unification Day (1 December) and the king’s birthday (17 December). Predictably, in the context of

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Yugoslavia, these were “contested dates.” That is, both supporters and opponents of the regime perceived these dates as holding great symbolic value and went out of their way to demonstrate loyalty or dissent on such occasions. The Zakon o praznicima (Law on Holidays) required state flags to be displayed only on government buildings.208 But in addition to that, the state expected all citizens, whatever their faith, to attend special celebratory religious services on major holidays such as the king’s birthday.209 The police consigned delinquents to a special category, omalovažavanje praznika (underestimation or slighting of a holiday). These people were fined and were subjected to heightened surveillance thereafter. If they were state employees, discharge from employment or relocation to another region was a distinct possibility. The police also took pre-emptive measures in advance of state holidays, compiling lists of “suspicious individuals” in an attempt to ensure that the holidays passed without unrest. In Sava Banovina, the authorities ordered all mayors and police commanders to use “all necessary means in order to fully preserve public peace and order and in order to ensure that the day proceeds without incidents.”210 In 1929 in Žepče, not far from Sarajevo in Drina Banovina, the head of the local district sent the banovina administration a report on the local celebration of the king’s birthday. “On the 17th of December of this year, on the birthday of His Majesty the King, thanksgiving services, which were attended by all officials and employees of the government offices here as well as by many citizens, were held in all houses of worship. That day state flags were hoisted on all government buildings, private homes, and merchants’ and crafts stores … Absolute order and peace ruled throughout the course of the day and evening, such that no incident or disorder of any kind occurred.”211 The Central Press Bureau worked to ensure that official festivities received highly favourable coverage.212 While some holidays were, of course, contested before the advent of the dictatorship, this was even more the case after 6 January 1929. The December 1929 holidays were especially significant because they were the first to be held since the proclamation of the new regime. Moreover, the bloody events of 1 December 1928 had not receded from anyone’s memory. On 30 November 1929, an article in Politika announced that “Croatia speaks through Zagreb, and the Zagreb manifestation is the beginning of a new, happier epoch of state life, the visible consequence of 6 January and 3 October. It is a new victory. The victory of

122  Making Yugoslavs Table 3.4. Major contested dates in Yugoslavia during the Royal Dictatorship Date

Significance

6 January

Anniversary of Royal Manifesto

27 January

St Sava’s Day

1 May

May Day

20 June

Anniversary of 1928 shooting in Skupština

28 June

St Vitus’s Day

8 August

Anniversary of death of Stjepan Radic´

6 September

Crown Prince Petar’s birthday

1 December

Anniversary of proclamation of Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes

17 December

King Aleksandar’s birthday

good over evil.”213 The same article attacked Ante Paveli� and his Croat nationalist émigrés, as did another article, “1 December 1929,” the following day.214 On 2 December, a full-page article in Politika covered the countrywide celebrations of Unification Day in all regions, in Orthodox, Catholic, and Evangelical Lutheran churches, and in mosques and synagogues.215 Several weeks later, on the king’s birthday, Politika euphorically congratulated Aleksandar, depicting him as the legitimate bearer of the torch of a long and consistent tradition of the Yugoslav idea. “In the course of this year, the king has done everything humanly possible … Illyrianism has won; Miloš and Mihajlo have won; Rački and Strossmayer have won; the Croato-Serb Coalition has won; the national youth of before the Balkan Wars has won; all those who in their souls carried the Yugoslav thought have won. Yet the victory has a far broader range than, in earlier circumstances, our forefathers could have dreamed of.”216 Meanwhile, the regime’s opponents encouraged their supporters and the passive majority to take special actions. For Croat separatists, this might mean singing nationalist songs and displaying the Croatian red-and-white-chequered coat of arms instead of the state flag. Or mischievous or discontented Croats could simply turn the Yugoslav flag upside down, conveniently producing the Croatian flag instead. Communists tried to spread leaflets calling for revolution among workers and peasants who had assembled to celebrate the holiday.217 As noted earlier, clergy of all faiths were instructed to hold special services on state holidays. Those who did not, or who spoke of these holidays with insufficient enthusiasm, faced uncomfortable

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consequences and increased state scrutiny. In January 1931, Prime Minister Živkovi� wrote to his Justice Minister, Milan Srški�, regarding a troublesome priest in the town of Koprivnica in Sava Banovina.218 Citing an unnamed “confidential” source, Živkovi� stated that this priest, Stjepan Pavuni�, was a known “clericalist” and “Frankist.” Živkovi� quoted his confidential source as saying that Pavuni� “is a great enemy of the Yugoslav idea and of today’s structure of the State, which he skilfully hides.” After 6 January 1929, Pavuni� had “demonstratively resigned” when the state offered him a post on a local community council. Since then, his opposition to the regime had included slighting state holidays. On those days, according to the source, “when his duty requires for him to perform a festive mass in the church, he carries it out in a few minutes, while in the Serbian Orthodox Church and in the Jewish temple, it takes almost an hour, during which the priest or rabbi, respectively, always delivers a sermon about the meaning of that day. This has never been the case with Pavuni�.”219 Živkovi� demanded that action be taken to remove this kind of menace to “national interests.” According to British diplomats, the zeal with which local authorities enforced the celebration of state holidays was counterproductive.220 Out of spite or anger, many people who might have engaged in these festivities – or at least watched passively – declined to do so when threatened with force. Some even displayed “tribal” flags or black flags of mourning as a show of resistance. For such token opposition to the regime, they usually faced arrest, fines, and brief imprisonment. Especially if they were state employees, they lost their jobs and pensions. During the dictatorship, one date in particular was vested with exceptional meaning and controversy: 27 January, the date on the Gregorian calendar when the Serbian Orthodox Church celebrated the name day of its founder, Sava. On that date in 1219, Sava (Rastko) Nemanji�, a member of the Nemanji� clan, which ruled the medieval Serbian state, won autochthonous status for the Serbian Orthodox Church.221 This was a key event in Serbian and Balkan history, for it permanently linked the Serbian Orthodox Church to the Serbian state and the Serb nation.222 Serbs celebrated St Sava as a moral, religious, and cultural giant whose legacy kept the identity of the Serb nation alive through hundreds of years of Ottoman occupation.223 In their view, without this link the Serbs would have not have been able to liberate themselves from the “Ottoman yoke” and then free their South Slav brethren from imperial oppression. From the perspective of the dictatorship, St Sava had

124  Making Yugoslavs

made a crucial contribution to the birth of Yugoslavia and the emergence of the Yugoslav nation. After the First World War, St Sava’s Day had been observed in all Serb-inhabited areas. In December 1928, however, on the eve of the dictatorship, the government elevated the celebration of the holiday to the state level ­– that is, all schools, regardless of religious or ethnic composition, were expected to celebrate the day.224 This accorded with the official view that St Sava had been first and foremost a figure of Yugoslav enlightenment and culture. A few years later, in January 1931, in a circular distributed to all district chiefs and school directors in Drina Banovina, the government clearly articulated this version of Yugoslav history and this justification for the holiday. The circular credited Sava with preserving “the state consciousness [državna svest] … even during the time of foreign enslavement” and honoured him as an architect “of our national and state unity.” All teachers were ordered to “speak about the life and work of St Sava. If possible, passages about his life (Sava’s biography in the edition of the Serbian literary collective) will be read, and pictures will be shown of his memorials.” While “the portion of the celebration in the school [must be kept] strictly separate from the celebration in the church,” the celebration nonetheless was to “conclude with the singing of the state and St Sava hymns.” Cooperation with the Serb Cultural Society Prosveta [Education] was also required. All schools had to deliver a report on the celebration to the Educational Department of the Banovina Administration.225 If we take the state officials’ argument to its logical conclusion, celebrating St Sava merely meant acknowledging a common cultural heritage. The authorities had hoped to create a sense of balance and synthesis by adding a special day for Bishop Strossmayer, the nineteenth-century Roman Catholic Croat philanthropist, on the calendar only a few days later, in early February. “Tribal” figures such as St Sava and Strossmayer would now, thanks to selective interpretations of their lives, take on a unitary Yugoslav flavour. Regime ideologues, including a number of ultra-unitarist Croats such as Viktor Novak and Mijo Radoševi�, specialized in providing facile and teleological arguments for such readings of South Slav intellectual history.226 However, the amount of media and official attention devoted to events such as Strossmayer’s holiday paled in comparison to what was lavished on St Sava. In December 1928, the Ministry of Education had distributed a circular explaining how schools should celebrate St Sava. That celebration

The Dictatorship’s First Year  125

was to be infused with “the character of a general state school holiday,” not with religion. Only in schools with exclusively Serbian Orthodox student bodies would the religious and “state” portions of St Sava’s Day be combined. In all other settings, the liturgical portion of the holiday would be attended only by Serb students. Regardless of the ethnic composition of the school, educators were to ensure that the festivities proceeded so that St Sava was perceived as a “national educator.” “In that sense, especially in mixed schools, pay attention to the program of the celebration itself (speeches, recitals, songs, etc.) so that all might be in the broad spirit of religious tolerance and national unity.”227 But the government’s argument did not go unopposed. Although no one challenged the centrality and salience of St Sava to Serbian history and identity, Roman Catholic and Islamic clergy resented the imposition of a Serbian Orthodox holiday on their followers. Indeed, a quick glance cast at the officially approved program reveals that Serbian culture dominated, not only in terms of the holiday’s subject, but also in the selection of auxiliary materials: songs, texts, and so on. Significantly, as noted earlier, the Serb Cultural Society Prosveta was to play a leading role in choosing the content of these materials. This opposition played out in the daily lives of hundreds of thousands of Yugoslav children in the schools, which became a battleground between proponents and opponents of the “new” St Sava holiday. The authorities never managed to resolve the role of Prosveta in the St Sava’s Day festivities. However, by 1932, the state pendulum seemed to have swung away from Prosveta. This led to no end of confusion among local officials. For example, in 1932, the district chief of Brčko in Drina Banovina was reprimanded by the banovina authorities for allowing Prosveta a prominent role in the holiday celebrations.228 The hapless district chief argued that he had merely been following the official guidelines for this celebration. The banovina authorities, however, insisted that this was unacceptable. They noted that officialdom could not allow “even the least understanding from any side whatsoever” that “one tribe of our nation raises itself above another.” Ironically, the district chief had been trying to respect Reis-ul-Ulema’s Čauševi�’s earlier ban on the participation of Muslim children in the holiday festivities. The district chief also cited a June 1931 State Council ruling that upheld the Muslims’ view of the holiday as “religious.” Yet in allowing the Muslim children to refrain from celebrating while at the same time keeping Catholic children present and inviting Prosveta, he had provoked the ire of the local Roman Catholic clergy!

126  Making Yugoslavs

It rapidly became clear that local teachers were making no effort to separate the secular and religious portions of St Sava’s Day. Especially in Drina Banovina, a confrontation loomed between Serb schoolteachers and the Islamic religious authorities. Most controversial of all in the St Sava’s Day celebrations was the singing of the “Hymn to St Sava,” the words of which emphasized devotion to Serbdom. This song included passages such as “Let us cry out with love / To Saint Sava / The sacred head – Of the Serbian church and school / … / sing to him Serbs / … / From heaven he sends his blessing / … / Hear the voice of our own clan / The Serb nation!” As this excerpt illustrates, the hymn was saturated with religious motifs and allusions to the Serb nation, without referring at all to any other nations or ethnicities, or to Yugoslavism.229 So it was hardly surprising that the spiritual leaders of the Croats and the Muslims had great difficulty accepting the purported ecumenical and Yugoslav essence of these celebrations. The two most prominent non-Orthodox religious leaders in Yugoslavia at the time the dictatorship was proclaimed were Džemaludin Čauševi�, the Reis-ul-Ulema in Bosnia and Herzegovina and leader of the Bosnian Muslims, and Ante Bauer, the Archbishop of Zagreb. For similar reasons, both men were against celebrating St Sava’s Day in Yugoslav schools. They viewed the act of honouring a Serbian Orthodox saint as anathema for Muslim and Catholic children, respectively. Čauševi� complained that his daughter had been forced to recite the “Hymn to St Sava” in school, along with other Muslim children.230 According to him, schools in Yugoslavia should remain hramovi prosvjete (temples of learning) and not engage in glorifying sectarian figures.231 In the opinion of the ulema-medžlis, the authority responsible for interpreting Islamic teachings in Bosnia and Herzegovina, the educational or Yugoslav character of St Sava, however laudable, did not change his status as an Orthodox saint. Čauševi� also noted that the Koran strictly proscribed the celebration of Christian saints.232 It is noteworthy that in opposing St Sava’s Day, Čauševi� appropriated the regime’s own rhetoric. For example, he wrote that “when the establishment of order and peace into all state branches is sought, it is very necessary for religious peace to be secured and for the abolition of religious harassment [vjersko uznemirenje] among Muslims. Muslims cannot peacefully look on, while that which the general belief [of] Islam forbids is forced upon their children.”233 While he respected “our brothers of other faiths,” forcing Muslim children to celebrate St Sava

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was “not in the interest of our state.”234 In communicating his views to the administration of Drina Banovina, he stated that “I ask for this in the interest of order, peace, and state reputation … On this occasion, I assert that it is not in the interest of the nation to fuse church saints with the nation, as is displayed in the song mentioned above [i.e., the Hymn to St. Sava].”235 Čauševi� claimed in early January 1930 that he had received no answers from the authorities to any of his many letters of complaint. Sensing that his grievances were not going to be addressed, on 11 January he sent a circular to all muftis in which he called upon “all Muslims in Bosnia and Herzegovina … not to allow their own children to participate in the St. Sava festivities, regardless of which form these take, and not to send children to school on 27 January each year. In addition, they should not allow their children to participate in any festivities which have the character or characteristic of a non-Islamic faith.”236 He also sent letters to all religious instructors in Sarajevo notifying them of the boycott, and on 24 January he made a speech in Begova džamija (The Beg’s Mosque) in Sarajevo against the holiday.237 In an attempt to thwart the boycott, the authorities in Drina Banovina banned the dissemination of Čauševi�’s order in the region’s schools. At the same time, however, they notified schools that Muslim children would not be required to attend the celebration of St Sava.238 In letters sent to both the ban and King Aleksandar, Čauševi� maintained that he had complained about the St Sava holiday for over eleven years.239 And in a letter sent to Justice Minister Milan Srški�, he gave several reasons why the state was violating its own laws by forcing Muslims to observe St Sava’s Day.240 However, the banovina officials claimed that the celebration of this day had never been an issue before Čauševi� raised his objections in January 1930. Ban Velimir Popovi� argued that the day of St Sava had been celebrated without tensions or complaints for years, even when Bosnia and Herzegovina was under Austro-Hungarian rule. According to Popovi�, Čauševi� was now raising his voice for purely political reasons. Specifically, Popovi� alleged that Čauševi� feared losing popular prestige to JMO leader Mehmed Spaho.241 As for Čauševi�’s claim that his daughter and other Muslim children were being discriminated against, Popovi� admitted that an incident had indeed taken place. However, the teacher in question had kept everyone in the classroom for the duration of the religious instruction because he had not wanted the Muslim students to stand in the unheated hallway in the dead of winter.242

128  Making Yugoslavs

Ban Velimir Popovi� reported to Belgrade that the holiday had passed largely without incident and that Čauševi�’s call for a boycott had failed spectacularly. According to Popovi�, some Muslim parents had expressly encouraged their children to participate in the St Sava celebrations.243 This would seem to strengthen Popovi�’s argument that the Bosnian Muslims regarded Čauševi�’s intervention as personal and political rather than as principled.244 Here at least, the authorities had shown tact and some ability to compromise when confronted about the implementation of Yugoslav ideology.245 Yet this did little to resolve the underlying causes of the dispute.246 The Roman Catholic Church also opposed the repackaging of St Sava as a Yugoslav saint. Archbishop Bauer would later claim that St Sava was a “tribal figure” and that the celebration of St Sava in the country’s schools was therefore a violation of state laws. Both Bauer and Čauševi� called on their followers to boycott the holiday. However, the church hierarchy would not openly confront the government on this issue until 1935.247 The protests in Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina over St Sava are a good illustration of the regime’s ideology and the problems it generated.248 The government tried hard to argue that Sava was a national Yugoslav figure rather than a Serb religious one, but this never convinced either the Catholic or the Muslim clergy. Well aware of the resulting tensions, the state authorities attempted to hammer out a compromise. While they mobilized to prevent the boycott, they also ordered that “the religious part of the festivity be separated from the school celebration and that St Sava be spoken of only as a national educator.”249 They also decreed “milder” celebrations in schools in which children of the Serbian Orthodox faith were a minority. In January 1930, the Minister of Education, Božidar Maksimovi�, sent a telegram to schools in Drina Banovina in which he stated clearly that “participants of the Muslim faith [sic] do not have to participate” in the “church portion” of the celebration.250 The state’s opinion in this matter was best articulated by the Acting Commander of the Adriatic Division in Mostar, General Drag. Blagojevi�. Referring to Čauševi�’s aforementioned circular as “inopportune,” this general wrote that the state would like to see “that the confessions draw closer to each other and not that they become more alienated from each other. It is not necessary to force religion, but I think that it would be recommendable and useful in the sense of the development of reciprocal love and harmony, and especially religious tolerance, if there would be reciprocal participation [at the various

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festivities]. Religion should in no case divide us.” His superior officer in Sarajevo, General Danilo Kalafatovi�, seconded this opinion.251 In this, as in so many other cases, even the reasonable and ecumenical intentions of the central government were thwarted by local officials. Many Serb schoolteachers and local Serbian Orthodox clergy lacked both patience and understanding when it came to the subtle distinctions in Belgrade’s orders.252 Thus, the central government found itself engaged in a battle on two fronts: between angry non-Serb teachers, parents, and clergy on the one side, and overly zealous local Serb teachers and clergy on the other. Moreover, the central government had inadvertently contradicted its own argument regarding the “Yugoslav nature” of the holiday. Article Three of the October 1929 Law on Holidays clearly identified St Sava’s Day as a Serbian Orthodox religious holiday.253 In at least one later case, the State Council upheld an appeal by Muslim schoolteachers who had been disciplined for calling for a boycott by Muslim schoolchildren against the holiday.254 While the Serb officials behind the St Sava policies made some concessions to non-Serbs, it is clear that they inhabited a cultural framework that did not lend itself easily to mutual cultural understanding. Even when they compromised or issued earnest pleas for reciprocal religious tolerance, their sincerity had to be doubted. Arguably, the Minister of Justice, the Minister of Education, and General Blagojevi� would never have suggested that Serbs sing songs praising the prophet Mohammed. Yet this was analogous to what they were demanding of Muslim schoolchildren and teachers.255 Clearly, black-and-white portraits of the Sixth of January dictatorship drastically oversimplify the reality of the time. One case of state intervention in Muslim–Orthodox relations neatly illustrates the subtleties of life under the dictatorship. In October 1932, Zarif Skender, a Muslim shoemaker from Sarajevo, went to the city police together with other Muslim parents and accused the Serbian Orthodox priest Bogdan Lali� of vjerska netrpeljivost (religious intolerance).256 In his statement, Skender wrote that priest Lalić came to the second grade of the girls’ elementary school in Kovači, which is located in the mekteb [Islamic school] in Halilbašić street, where there are only Muslim girls. He asked my daughter for her ilmihal [a primer on Islam], while saying: God is one. All will be one faith, – I will buy you crosses and distribute [them] …! My daughter did not give him the ilmihal. I ask that measures be undertaken so that such things

130  Making Yugoslavs do not occur, otherwise I will seek protection elsewhere, as the parent of my child!257

The state apparatus responded fairly quickly to Skender’s complaint, for it knew that the Glavno muftijstvo (Office of the Chief Mufti) supported Skender. After the investigation, the administration of Drina Banovina informed the ecclesiastical court of the Serbian Orthodox eparchy that Lali�, “with his unauthorized and imprudent conduct, caused a great protest from the Islamic religious authorities, thus he must already for this reason be removed from this school, which is predominantly attended by children of the Islamic faith.” The Office of the Chief Mufti also was notified of the outcome.258 Despite the relatively favourable result in this and several similar cases, St Sava’s Day had a generally negative impact on interfaith and interethnic relations. First, the attempt to create a “Yugoslav holiday” had been built on a Serb foundation and therefore required a cultural shift by everyone but the Serbs. Second, many schoolteachers and education bureaucrats were undoubtedly biased against Islam, and this was reflected in many textbooks. To give but one example, despite protests from prominent Muslims, the Ministry of Education did not ban a textbook in which Christianity was referred to as the “best” religion.259 When the regime realized there was opposition to the holiday, it made efforts to “sell” the holiday as “Yugoslav” (repackaging St Sava in new symbolism, toning down the holiday’s religious elements, making concessions to students of other faiths, etc.). Yet setting aside claims by Serb historians, the great enemies of a “Yugoslav St Sava” were not Islamic and Roman Catholic “clericalists”; rather, they were zealous Serb teachers, clergy, and officials who, despite directives to the contrary, compelled Roman Catholic and Muslim schoolchildren to hail St Sava.260 Indications of how Serb civil servants regarded the Muslims of Bosnia and Herzegovina are visible in confidential documents found in the archives. Often, the anti-Muslim prejudices of state officials combined with other common religious or ethnic prejudices against, for example, Albanians, Jews, Germans, Roma, or Turks. For example, a secret report received by the Ministry of Internal Affairs and distributed to the Drina Banovina administration in Sarajevo in 1931 began by dealing at length with the political loyalty of Jews in Bosnia and Herzegovina.261 The assessment was heavy with anti-Semitic stereotypes. Of particular concern were the “German Jews in Bosnia and Herzegovina,” who were an “untrustworthy element, which as the bearer of Germanic culture and Germanic thoughts will never reconcile itself with the national

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liberation of these former Austrian regions.” The anonymous author now effortlessly switched gears from anti-Semitic to anti-Muslim theses. “They [the Jews] appear to the eye as very loyal citizens,” he wrote. However, the Jews posed a threat as long as they remained in Yugoslavia, and “especially in Bosnia,” where the non-Serb population remained “faithful to Austria” and where “Mohammed’s beard remains the longest, and Allah’s name the most horrible [i.e., inspires the greatest fear]. Because we should not forget that Muslims also hate, not so much the state, as us Serbs, and that they are all, in [their] souls, soldiers of the Swabians [da su oni u duši svi švabini vojnici].”262 This observation points to a much more pervasive problem in the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. Serb civil servants had a troubling tendency to refer systematically to Serbia, Serbs, and things Serbian in the first person. Thus, “we” and “us” meant “Serbs,” and all things Serbian were “ours.” Although such a disposition was, of course, understandable, it made it difficult for these civil servants to deal fairly with the concerns of non-Serbs. In light of the state’s campaign against non-Serb “tribal identities,” it also courted hypocrisy. In spite of the official rhetoric of Yugoslavism, little effort was made to conceal or curb such obvious bias. This privileging of Serb identity also revealed itself linguistically. In the years of the dictatorship, officials showed a marked preference for the Serbian Cyrillic alphabet and for ekavian (Serbian) orthography. This was so even in areas that were purely ijekavian (Croatian and Bosnian). Documents from these latter regions written in ekavian exhibit a large number of errors typical of new “converts” from ijekavian to ekavian. The same can be said of the writings of Croat unitarists, who were anxious to show they were participating in the creation of a new linguistic idiom for a modern Yugoslav society.263 Regarding Muslim opposition to the St Sava holiday, it is useful to examine the context in which Reis-ul-Ulema Čauševi� expressed his flock’s discontent. The letters written by Čauševi� quoted earlier were only the most recent of many dating back to the founding of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. For over a decade, Čauševi� had expressed deep concern about the pillaging, mistreatment, and extrajudicial killings of Bosnian Muslims by Chetnik paramilitary organizations. Groups such as the Chetniks viewed such acts of violence as legitimate revenge against the “Turks” who had occupied “Serbian land” centuries ago and who remained in the country after “Oslobođenje” (Liberation). They received tacit and indeed often active support for their actions from local Serb authorities.

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And Muslims had even more cause than all this to be unhappy. In the 1920s and all through the Sixth of January dictatorship, the authorities declared many mosques and other Islamic structures to be “sklone padu” (predisposed to collapse). The state then had the right to demolish those buildings or, in many cases, transfer them to the military for use as storehouses. Furthermore, the police often “publicly insulted Muslims and mistreated imams.”264 In this climate, the new “Yugoslav” holiday of St Sava could not possibly have taken root among Bosnian Muslims. The authorities could and often did compel Muslims to “celebrate” the holiday, and they could squelch boycotts or demonstrations, but they could never attract active and spontaneous popular support, although they claimed to be doing so. Regarding the Roman Catholic Church, tensions rose every year as the St Sava holiday approached. In the first year of the dictatorship, all of the major religious communities except the Roman Catholics had signed concordats with the government. Despite many attempts, Belgrade and the Roman Catholic Church never did so.265 Meanwhile, the Serbian Orthodox Church refused to relinquish its status as an established church, a status it had enjoyed in the Kingdom of Serbia, and it still enjoyed state protection.266 A large part of the government, and in particular its Serb members, viewed the Catholic Church with the fear and loathing usually reserved for the Soviet Union and the Comintern. For good reason, the Serbian Orthodox hierarchy feared the aggressive and well-organized proselytizing of the Roman Catholics. Quite a few Serbs went so far as to speak of a “Black International” led by the Pope. The Yugoslav government kept its distance from the Bishops’ Conference, the highest organ of the Church hierarchy in Yugoslavia.267 Among the Catholic clergy, many priests responded by passively and sometimes openly opposing the cultural, political, and economic influence of what they perceived as a Serbian-dominated state. Especially after the Croat Peasant Party was banned, the Roman Catholic Church took up the banner of Croat nationalism. Conclusion However fervid the state’s propaganda in December 1929, all was not well. While arrangements were being made for the December delegation from Sava Banovina, the police had discovered a Croat separatist plot to attack the train carrying the delegates to Belgrade. On 17 December, they arrested Vladko Maček and charged him with providing financial assistance to the plot.268 The young Croat terrorists quickly

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confessed after they were arrested; Maček maintained his innocence.269 His trial was scheduled for April 1930; he was eventually acquitted. In the meantime, on 30 December, Milica Vandekar, a daughter of the late Stjepan Radi�, was sentenced to two months in prison for criticizing the Yugoslav regime. On the same day, a high-ranking former HSS official, Josip Predavec, received a one-year prison sentence. In the short term, all of this hindered rapprochement between the Croats and the regime. Cautionary notes abounded towards the end of the dictatorship’s first year. In Dubrovnik, an inspector wrote a report in which he doubted the people’s openness to state Yugoslavism. “While almost everyone among the people of the Herzegovinian mountains, connected by historic ties to the freedom of Yugoslavism, has visibly and with few exceptions expressed their satisfaction with the new restructuring of our Kingdom and its present state of affairs, extolling and celebrating the great deeds of our exalted King, Dubrovnik with its coastal area has at the same time become, day by day, more indefinable and – because of its silence – ever more suspicious.” Especially galling to this inspector was the refusal of Croats in Dubrovnik to participate in Yugoslav activities, including festivals. Whenever events like these approached, local Croat leaders disappeared into the surrounding villages. “This silence and non-expression must be the subject of special examination and study,” concluded the inspector. “Experience tells us that masses who are silent, do not think positively [mase koje ćute, ne misle dobro].”270 The first anniversary of the dictatorship in January 1930 saw a barrage of propaganda about the regime’s success.271 That propaganda highlighted the cardinal themes of national and state unity and attempted to downplay persistent rumours about an impending return to parliamentarism.272 Officially, the face of the country had been changed, “tribal” barriers had been erased, and a bright and harmonious future awaited the Yugoslav people. The flame of the Sixth of January would continue to burn. “In its essence it is the expression of popular wishes and will, because it serves the nation, and will serve it as long as it does not complete its mission, for the good of national unity, for the good of real national and state Yugoslavism. Whosoever does not comprehend or does not want to comprehend this will be run over.”273 Yet among both Croats and Serbs, the plot against the delegates’ train deepened disillusionment with the regime. The Serbs were angry about the Croat plot. That plot, and the assassination of Toni Schlegel earlier in the year, contributed to the common view that the Croats were hopelessly selfish and ungrateful for the steps taken since January 1929. On the Croat side, the arrest of Maček and other Croats strengthened the

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sense that the regime differed only cosmetically from the Serbian-led governments of the 1920s. As for King Aleksandar, the incident probably fed his perennial suspicions about Maček’s intentions.274 Certainly, it led once again to a postponement of the king’s visit to Zagreb, the realm’s second-largest city. Except for the absence of open politicking, astonishingly little had changed on the political landscape since January 1929. As Milan Srški�’s policies towards Bosnia and Herzegovina demonstrated, “depoliticization” was a thin disguise for the settling of scores by politicians who continued to conduct themselves as members of their respective parties. The remnants of the JMO, the HSS, and other opposition parties, although torn by factionalism, were carrying out increasingly effective grassroots campaigns against the regime. Other former party politicians stood on the sidelines, eager for the political games to resume. In the meantime, the ideology of the regime, and the vast compendium of aggressive new laws, exacerbated the struggle. And, as will be seen, the concept of Yugoslavism was remarkably opaque. It is important to note the remarkable aloofness of King Aleksandar. Even many of the most prominent critics of the first phase of the regime, such as Mehmed Spaho and Vladko Maček, believed that events had taken an unintended turn and that the king’s good intentions were being thwarted by selfish interests. These critics and other observers questioned whether the king could reassert his control of the situation against egoistic politicians. During the dictatorship, observers both in Yugoslavia and abroad worried constantly that discontented citizens would attempt to remove the king. For these pessimists, the brutal assassination and defenestration in 1903 of Aleksandar’s Obrenovi� namesake and his queen served as an ominous precedent.275 However, although discontent was growing, the police largely managed to keep a lid on violent dissent. From the regime’s perspective, the country’s leaders had acted boldly and brought in measures that would facilitate peaceful and productive development. With the legal and geographical foundation of the new Yugoslavia in place, it remained for the citizenry to do their part. In the next chapter, we will see that the regime viewed citizen participation in the new Yugoslavism as much too delicate and crucial a matter to leave to chance. Behind the grand proclamations, a massive police apparatus had begun to assert its new powers in conjunction with the few organizations perceived as legitimate sponsors of Yugoslav culture.

PART THREE Making Yugoslavs out of “Tribalists”

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4  National Workers of Yugoslavia, Unite! Moulding Yugoslavs, January 1930–September 1931

Tribal disagreement, religious persecutions, and all mistakes of historical provincialism must disappear forever in the face of the great Yugoslav idea. Prime Minister (General) Petar Živković1

By the end of January 1930, the first anniversary of the regime had passed and the waves of fealty delegations had come to a temporary end. For the Yugoslav government, a second year of opportunities and challenges beckoned. The banovinas, which had only begun operating in November 1929, were still evolving to fit their broad but vague mandates, and in some cases they lacked the facilities and personnel for proper administration. On the political front, the government seemed to have the situation well in hand. Both Vladko Maček and Svetozar Pribi�evi�, the erstwhile leaders of the Peasant-Democratic Coalition, were out of the way, the former in prison and the latter in internal exile in Serbia. Although the left-wing Agrarian leader Dragoljub Jovanovi� was a thorn in the dictatorship’s side, he enjoyed only modest popular support, and the rest of the opposition remained relatively dormant. The police had a secure grip on the activities of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia. However, the regime faced an undercurrent of resentment among the Croats. With Vladko Maček in prison, important decisions had to be made. Should the government send a signal of compromise, or should it show no tolerance for those who opposed the new order? In paving the path towards Yugoslavism and a secure state, the dictatorship of King Aleksandar tied every act rhetorically to a fulfilment of the people’s purported dreams. The king’s manifesto had invited the people to cooperate with the new regime, and the government felt

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confident that they would do so enthusiastically. To encourage further citizen participation in the creation of a unitarist state, the government nurtured a series of nacionalna udruženja (national associations) that would serve as the cultural and ideological vanguard of the Yugoslav people. The regime urged citizens to participate actively and often in these organizations, while also making considerable efforts to stigmatize and impose sanctions on those who in any way resisted this nacionalan rad (national work). Coaxing the Croats As mentioned in the previous chapter, December 1929 saw the arrest of the HSS leader Vladko Maček for his alleged involvement in a plot to bomb the train carrying a fealty delegation from Zagreb to Belgrade. The trial commenced in late April 1930.2 Maček was recognized explicitly by the Croats, and implicitly by the regime, as the leader of the Croat peasantry after Radi�’s death. The population thus closely monitored his trial. The leniency the Yugoslav courts had shown Stjepan Radi�’s assassin, Puniša Rači�, the previous year gave the Croats another reason to do so. The trial began poorly for the government and soon disintegrated into a fiasco. The defendants, many of whom had confessed, retracted their statements, claiming that the police had extracted them by force or the threat of force during their detention. Maček had a large legal team to defend him, and the presiding judges resisted state pressure and conducted a relatively fair trial.3 That trial lasted six weeks. Unable to prove its case against Maček, and watched by an increasingly critical foreign press, the government squirmed. It tried to launch a charm offensive by inviting a new wave of delegations from Croat areas, but the local HSS representatives did their best to discredit these delegations.4 King Aleksandar’s clandestine attempts to co-opt Maček or at least get him to moderate his stance failed.5 On the contrary, even as Maček denied supporting “separatism,” he taunted the court by asking whether “it was necessary to make propaganda for that which is in the minds of our old men and women even on their death-bed[s].”6 When the verdict was finally unveiledannounced in mid-June, Maček and nine others walked away free, while thirteen co-defendants received jail sentences of various lengths. Desperate to avoid the loss of credibility that the acquittal of Maček would cause it, the government scrambled to launch a propagandistic counterthrust.7 They found an opportunity for this among the dissident

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ranks of the HSS. Four former members of that party, Mirko Najdorfer (Neudorfer), Nikola Preka, Stanko Šibenik, and Ivan Švegl, agreed to join the government as ministers. Predictably, the government trumpeted the entrance of the Croats into the government as a major victory, as proof that “the Croat peasants have correctly understood and comprehended the intentions of His Majesty the King.” Everything among the Croats, proclaimed Politika, was now shaping up “in the spirit of the Yugoslav thought.”8 Those who were less kind perceived the appointment of the four Croats as a sign of weakness and perhaps even as the beginning of a return to constitutionalism.9 Undaunted, the regime set plans in motion for a popular movement of Yugoslav peasants, hoping this would eclipse the memories of the halcyon days of the HSS. The Yugoslav Peasant Movement The previous chapter’s discussion of the fealty delegations revealed that the regime sought to claim the mantle of Stjepan Radi�’s popular peasant movement. Well aware of Radi�’s popularity and political authority among Croats, King Aleksandar and his ministers knew that coopting this movement would be vital to the regime’s success. Several statements Radi� made during his final months lent themselves to a pro-regime interpretation, and the regime did its best to exploit those statements in its propaganda. In Serbia as well, the Agrarian leader Dragoljub Jovanovi� remained convinced that an underlying goal of the dictatorship was to prevent the creation of a state-wide peasant movement that the regime would be unable to control.10 In enforcing its ban on all political parties, the regime showed particular concern about the ability of the HSS to survive under different guises. In 1929, the Ministry of Internal Affairs (MUP) secretly notified officials in Croatia that HSS leaders were believed to be operating covertly through the organization Hrvatska sloga (Croatian Harmony).11 MUP requested that all officials keep an eye on this organization. Most local officials reported that Hrvatska sloga was indeed being steered by former HSS member but that there was little reason to fear a full-scale resurrection of the organization.12 Nonetheless, the government, well aware that the hundreds of local HSS members had not simply disappeared or retired passively after January 1929, remained on constant alert for signs that the party was resurrecting itself. From the regime’s perspective, a “grassroots movement” was a logical choice. It might channel the peasants’ desire to organize politically to the government’s advantage. It might also co-opt some former HSS

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leaders by recruiting them to lead the new movement. Like almost everything else in the regime, this movement would emerge from the centre and not spontaneously. To accomplish this delicate task, the government chose Karla Kovačevi�, a former vice-president of the Croat Peasant Party.13 Kovačevi� had already established his pro-regime credentials by participating in several fealty delegations, and he had been the chief organizer of the grandiose April 1930 delegation. The contrast being presented to the Yugoslav public – Maček on trial for aiding and abetting terrorism, while hundreds of Croat peasants led by Kovačevi� feasted with King Aleksandar – could not have been more stark. Croat peasants, and politicians, were being sent an unmistakable signal: they would be punished if they emulated Maček but welcomed if they followed Kovačevi�. Moreover, it rapidly became known that “joining” Kovačevi� would also benefit them financially. According to intelligence gathered by British diplomats, Kovačevi� had “become a well-paid agent of the Government whose views he is zealously propagating by means of the ‘Seljački Glas’ [Peasant Voice] … for which ample funds are forthcoming from Belgrade.”14 For a peasant buckling under the weight of economic depression, the offer was tempting. Kovačevi� had begun his peasant movement with the permission and sponsorship of the government and the Royal Court, but it is difficult to determine precisely when and how these were extended. The decision seems to have been made in the spring of 1930, around the time that Kovačevi� brought his delegation to Belgrade. In some ways, the movement was the resurrection of a Radical and Royal Court initiative from the mid-1920s, when the government had tried to co-opt the Croat peasantry.15 The movement had its debut of sorts on 8 December 1930, when thousands of peasants gathered to hear Kovačevi� speak in Zagreb.16 By the spring of 1931, Kovačevi�’s peasant rallies had become regular events in Yugoslavia, with a large rally being held every week.17 This was the peak of Kovačevi�’s movement. Besides leading the movement, “čika Kovačevi�” was a banovina councillor and, after the “elections” of September 1931, a member of parliament.18 Well aware of the lasting legacy of Stjepan Radi� among the Croats, Kovačevi� did his best to paint himself as the legitimate successor to Radi� and his peasantist ideology.19 In April 1930, he published an article in which he claimed that the hospitalized Radi� had in 1928 told him that “we Croats are a happy nation because we always have a

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good King.”20 In 1931, he published a book in which he humbly identified himself as a “peasant from Jazavica.”21 “I will not exaggerate if I point out that the peasant consciousness was always the most deeply engraved in our Croatian village, which is raised and organized on the foundation of the first and main teaching of the brothers Radi� … Our village has always correctly understood the great Slavic, Croat, and Yugoslav political line of Stjepan Radi�.”22 The regime claimed (as did Karla Kovačevi�) that it was the legitimate heir to Radi�’s legacy. However, the documents in Sava Banovina indicate that it also worked hard to downplay that legacy. Officials monitored the anniversaries of his shooting and death as well as the commemorations of his deeds, discouraging civil servants from attending such events.23 Authorities confiscated some of the books written by the brothers Radi�. They also forbade the use of words like “hero” and “martyr” as descriptions of Stjepan Radi�. With the Radi� brothers erased from the scene and with the HSS banned, Croat peasants were supposed to direct their loyalty towards King Aleksandar. In the words of a participant in Kovačevi�’s April 1930 delegation, “we Croat peasants had only one leader and teacher, Stjepan Radi�, and before his death he left us with the slogan: People and King [Narod i Kralj].”24 In his 1931 pamphlet and in his speeches to peasant assemblies, Kovačevi� offered his vision of the Yugoslav Peasant Movement: When one says “peasant movement” then one often thinks of something similar to some kind of professional movement. Or to say it more clearly, something that is similar to a class movement. Our new peasant movement is nothing of the sort. It is peasant insofar as its target and main worry is our village, regardless of whether it is Croatian, Serbian, or Slovenian. Many classes in the state are well organized, thus they fight for their own interests. Industrialists, merchants, artisans, workers of all vocations, public deputies, and so forth – they are all organized and for the good of their own interests stand as one phalanx. We peasants were never that harmonious and we could not agree as could those classes.25

Kovačevi� subscribed to the synthetic view of Yugoslavism – that is, he saw it as a mélange of the various South Slav identities. For his part, Ban Ivo Perovi� thought that the new Peasant Movement would “through permanent contact with the people unite all peasants, Serbs and Croats, as well as other nationalities, in harmony and mutual work

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for the good of the King and the Fatherland.”26 As such, the government thought that the movement would also act as an antidote to the separatist poison of Ante Paveli�.27 Following the pattern set in the case of the Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, the central government notified all local authorities to cooperate to the fullest possible extent with Kovačevi�’s peasant organization. Police agents kept track of any negative comments made with reference to the new organization and provided security for its rallies and meetings. The authorities, apparently aware that Kovačevi�’s alliance with the regime might prove unpopular, provided him and his property with extra security.28 At the peasant meetings, police agents would circulate, taking note of the “mood of the people,” making sure that all speeches were in the “Yugoslav spirit,” and standing ready to “wipe out every eventual incident on the spot.”29 The previous chapter demonstrated that the fealty delegations took on a ritualized form. This was also the case with the peasant rallies of Kovačevi�’s Yugoslav Peasant Movement, each of which unfolded with elaborate ideological choreography. Typically, a local leader would open the rally by welcoming Kovačevi�, the vođa seljačkog naroda (leader of the peasant nation), to the region. Kovačevi� himself would then take the podium and speak about the glorious changes in Yugoslavia since the manifesto of 6 January 1929. He would implore the hundreds or thousands of assembled peasants to join the forces of progress in the struggle against separatism, tribalism, and economic stagnation. He studiously avoided enunciating any concrete program of action; instead, he fed his audience romantic notions about national unity, peasant cohesion, and loyalty to the state. Hewing to the regime’s script, he remembered to thank the Serbian Army for its struggle to liberate the South Slav lands. He would then yield the floor to a series of hand-picked peasants. Each of these men – no women spoke at these rallies – would deliver a speech in a style that would today be described as “testimonial.” Their perfectly crafted stories of “discovering” the virtues of Yugoslavism would fit seamlessly into any present-day infomercial. The speakers showered praise on King Aleksandar for his “manly” decision to take charge and described how their lives had changed for the better since 6 January 1929. While emphasizing the positive, the peasants did not forget to heap opprobrium on the “Judases” – that is, the Croat émigrés gathered around Ante Paveli�. Notwithstanding the king’s own claims

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that there was no longer any intermediary between him and his people, many speakers elevated Kovačevi� rhetorically to the status of “leader.” A blunt and elemental ideology, easily digestible for the audience, informed the rhetoric at Kovačevi�’s rallies. One peasant, calling for national unity, spoke plainly. “Who among us would be able to say that we are not one, that we are not the blood of our blood. As soon as we were born, each of us said ‘Mother!’ in our language, regardless of whether he was a Serb, Croat, or Slovene.”30 Another stated that only King Aleksandar had ended the feud between those fighting for “Great Serbia” and “Great Croatia” by creating “Great Yugoslavia.”31 Perhaps most tantalizingly from the perspective of Yugoslav ideology, one peasant from Gradina, Joza Gjurači�, said: “I have read the book Albanian Golgotha in Cyrillic, Brothers, when I read that book, when my relatives died, I didn’t begin to weep, but now I began to weep. When I read that tears came from the eyes of old man Paši�, when he said: Why must we really perish? The king was with the soldiers in the trenches. He shared good and evil with them.”32 His testimonial signalled his wholesale acceptance of the predominantly Serbian founding myths of the Yugoslav state. These mass meetings always concluded with a unanimous vote on a resolution and the reading of a telegram sent to King Aleksandar and Prime Minister Živkovi�. The assembled crowd would “enthusiastically” shout slogans in favour of the king, the president, the royal family, Yugoslavia, and so forth. Despite all these mass rallies and the subsidies, publicity, and protection afforded him by the regime, Kovačevi� was unable to make a significant dent in the Croat peasantry’s support for the banned HSS.33 Rumours constantly circulated about his supposedly grand lifestyle and his involvement in embezzlement.34 Even the regime realized that the Croat peasantry saw the participants in Kovačevi�’s mass rallies as opportunists and sycophants.35 The most interesting case of resistance to Kovačevi�’s movement took place in January 1931, when the authorities in Sava Banovina reported finding leaflets with “twelve questions for Karla Kovačevi�.” Their pointed nature and mention of all the major Croat grievances makes them worth quoting in full. To Karla Kovačević – appropriate questions which await an answer from you at an assembly [of] Croat patriots.

144  Making Yugoslavs How many Serbs would support unity if:   1. The ruling dynasty were Croat?   2. If the capital were Zagreb?   3. If the majority of ministers were Croats?   4. If the only and fraternal army were exclusively in Croat hands[?]   5. If all the billions from taxes and other revenues went to Zagreb?   6. If Croats occupied all the more important places in the administration?   7. If exclusively Croats would conduct foreign policy?   8. If Croat “gendarmes” and policemen beat with rifle butts and hit [iskundačiti i izbatinati] every Serb who was of an opposing opinion?   9. If Croats would substitute one crown for four dinars?36 10. If they were to introduce the Latin instead of the Cyrillic alphabet in Serbia? 11. If they were to fire qualified Serb bureaucrats and replace them with Croats without schooling? 12. If Croats and Croatian banks would obtain the lucrative export– import trade in which millions can be earned overnight? Hands on your heart, eyes toward yourself and the Almighty [Ruku na srce, oči k sebi i Svevišnjemu], then on [your] soul, [your] conscience, and on [your] honour, answer, sincerely and truthfully. Croat patriots.37

On the two-year anniversary of the regime, an article in Politika maintained that Croat peasants had finally started to desert the “once compact Croat Peasant Party.” According to this article, both the fealty delegations and the growth of Kovačevi�’s movement suggested that Croat peasants had begun in large numbers to grasp the positive nature of the regime and its Yugoslav ideology.38 This assessment was overly optimistic. Kovačevi�’s Yugoslav Peasant Movement proved no match for the still hegemonic Croat Peasant Party. His road show never travelled outside Sava Banovina, and after 1931 it virtually dropped off the map. Although he lacked Radi�’s charisma, Vladko Maček proved a much more legitimate successor to Radi� than did Kovačevi�.39 Nevertheless, studying Kovačevi�’s rallies helps us understand the ideology of the dictatorship. In villages and towns across Croatia, most Croats showed little desire to embrace the regime’s brand of Yugoslavism. Every year on the anniversary of Stjepan Radi�’s death, Croat peasants commemorated the

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man they had viewed as their leader. They did so despite police surveillance and possible legal sanctions for such “tribal” activities. The actions taken by the authorities to thwart these commemorations varied widely. In the strictest cases, local authorities banned all “manifestations” except for a requiem mass in the local Roman Catholic Church. In general, demonstrations proceeded without interference as long as the participants did not speak openly against the regime, display Croatian flags, or refer to Radi� as vođa (leader). In the official vocabulary, the latter term was, of course, reserved for King Aleksandar. In all cases, however, the police took note of the identities of those who participated in the ceremonies.40 Any bureaucrats who attended were reprimanded. As will be seen in chapter 5, during the second half of the dictatorship, the Roman Catholic Church came to play an increasingly important role in organizing Croat opposition. The Adriatic Sentinel Of the major “national” cultural organizations in Yugoslavia during the years of the dictatorship, only one was based outside Belgrade. In Split in February 1922, a group of Dalmatian unitarists led by Juraj Biankini founded a patriotic society with the name Jadranska straža (Adriatic Sentinel).41 In interwar Europe, a sizeable number of South Slavs in the Adriatic region lived in areas under Italian control. Istria, Fiume (Rijeka), Zara (Zadar), and countless islands belonged to Italy at this time. The Adriatic Sentinel devoted itself largely to thwarting Italian ambitions to turn the Adriatic (and the Mediterranean) into an Italian lake, mare nostrum. The Adriatic Sentinel was itself irredentist in that it sought to “liberate” the Yugoslavs “trapped” under Italian rule.42 In the style of the British Naval League and the German Flottenverein, it acted as a pressure group, urging the government to expand the Yugoslav fleet and generally encouraging the kingdom’s citizens – even in landlocked regions such as Macedonia, Šumadija and Slavonia – to take an active and patriotic interest in all things maritime and naval. Like the larger Union of Sokols, the Adriatic Sentinel received much financial support from the state and had close links with it.43 The president of the Adriatic Sentinel, Ivo Tartalja (Croatian/Italian form: Tartaglia), a philanthropist and a one-time mayor of Split, was also the first ban of Littoral Banovina.44 In 1929, the Adriatic Sentinel had around 40,000 members; eventually, this would grow to 180,000.45 Besides its eponymous flagship journal, which had a print run of up to 20,000 copies, it

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published a youth journal, Mladi stražar (The Young Sentinel), almanacs, and calendars.46 It also ran a library, an archive, and a museum dedicated to maritime and naval matters.47 The Adriatic Sentinel greeted the proclamation of 6 January 1929 with enthusiasm and declared itself ready to lend King Aleksandar its full and unequivocal assistance.48 The Adriatic Sentinel’s leading journal, like those of other unitarist associations, alternated from article to article or even from page to page between the Latin and the Serbian Cyrillic alphabets. In addition, in an effort to emphasize its synthetic brand of Yugoslavism, articles in ekavian tended to be in Latin, while articles in ijekavian tended to be in Serbian Cyrillic.49 The journal of the Adriatic Sentinel also featured frequent reports on the arrests and activities of Yugoslavs in Italy. In its zeal to attract as broad a following as possible, the Adriatic Sentinel left out no one. Schoolgirls and schoolboys were encouraged to join and participate as actively as possible, wearing shiny naval uniforms. In its issue of 15 November 1929, Mladi stražar ran an article titled “How to Found a Youth Section of the Adriatic Sentinel.” The article purported to be an authentic exchange of letters between two boys, Janko and Mirko. In reply to Janko’s request for information on how to found a branch of the Adriatic Sentinel in his hometown, Mirko answered as follows: Dear Janko, given your burning wish for answers from me to your questions in your last letter, I hasten to answer them immediately and thus fulfill your wish. So that you understand everything clearly, I will briefly explain to you the entire structure of the organization of the Adriatic Sentinel. At the top of the Adriatic Sentinel stands the chief committee of the entire organization, which is composed of the presidents and delegates of the regional committees … The regional committee directs and leads all branches of the Adriatic Sentinel on their territory.

The young Mirko closed his letter with these words: “I hug you with a national and fraternal greeting. Your Mirko.”50 The language of this letter speaks volumes about the “spontaneity” of the Adriatic Sentinel’s youngest members. To a much greater extent than in the propaganda of the Sokol movement, the racial and organic metaphors of European fascism informed the Adriatic Sentinel’s rhetoric. This was especially the case after the dictatorship began. In its struggle against Italian fascism, the Adriatic

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Sentinel mimicked all important elements of its enemy. In other words, it became a “mirror” of the very Italian associations it opposed, such as Lega Nazionale, Pro Dalmazia, and Pro mare nostro. The journals of the Adriatic Sentinel overflowed with proto-fascist rhetoric. In November 1929, one of the association’s most prominent intellectuals, Niko Bartulovi�, wrote an article titled “The Victory of Race” in which he praised the “genius of our [Yugoslav] race.”51 Although it longed to project an image of Yugoslav unity against Italy, even the Adriatic Sentinel could not dampen the rivalry between Serbs and Croats. Even before the dictatorship, there had been a tug of war between those wanting to move the organization’s headquarters to Belgrade and those insisting that it remain in Split. The latter tendency emerged victorious. Yet fissures continued to emerge, especially after Ivo Tartalja stepped down as ban in 1934. Sokols Flying Higher In January 1930, the state’s Sokol juggernaut began to gather steam. On 28 January, the merger of the “tribal” Sokol organizations into the new Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia was completed. On the surface, the merger was a success. Privately, however, government officials grumbled that the former “tribalists” had found refuge in other organizations.52 Only a minority of the Croat Sokols – the bane of the government in 1929 – had fused with the new Union of Sokols. Most members of the Croat Sokols had either receded into passivity or joined voluntary firemen’s associations, singing groups – in short, anything that was not the Yugoslav Sokol movement. If the first six months of propaganda for the Union of Sokols had left any doubt in people’s minds about the pre-eminent role of the Sokol movement, this vanished on Vidovdan in 1930. As noted in the previous chapter, King Aleksandar had inveighed that Yugoslavs should regard the Sokol movement as part of their lives “from cradle to grave.”53 His pronouncement had given an extra propaganda boost to the Sokol movement. Abroad, however, the 1930 Vidovdan declaration prompted the Times (London) to draw revealing comparisons. In order to create a Yugoslav nation, “the Sokols of Yugoslavia which were, so to speak, annexed by the Government and made into a national organization last winter are to discipline and form the younger generation for the service of Yugoslavia. Mutatis mutandis these once independent associations of gymnasts,

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athletes, and debaters are to play the same part as the Balilla and the Avanguardia in Fascist Italy or the Young Pioneers in Soviet Russia.”54 Throughout Yugoslavia, the authorities closely monitored the population’s attitude towards the Sokol movement, believing that the momentum belonged to the state.55 However, the Roman Catholic Church and Croat nationalists refused to reconcile themselves to the existence of one Yugoslav Sokol movement. In their daily lives, they passively resisted the Union of Sokols. With the technically illegal HSS forced to keep a low profile, local priests came to play an increasing role in the opposition to the Yugoslav Sokol movement. However, as we shall see in chapter 5, the real battle between the Church and the Sokol movement would not come until later in the dictatorship. The July 1930 Ministerial Council Meeting and the Struggle to Define “the Yugoslav Thought” Many observers, both domestic and foreign, had interpreted Maček’s trial and the inclusion of more Croats in the government as signs of weakness and therefore as harbingers of change in the regime. After the fiasco of the Maček trial, the regime stood in partial disarray. Rumours again ran rampant that a constitution was soon to be introduced. Discontented with the “new” state of affairs, former party politicians, including some in the government, looked hopefully towards a resumption of “real” politics. Meanwhile, the British and the French were increasing their pressure on the regime to make concessions to the Croats. In this climate, in the mid-summer of 1930, Prime Minister Živkovi� decided to regroup and to rebuke his ministers, the opposition, and the nation as a whole. The Ministerial Council met on 4 July 1930 at the fairy-tale Slovenian resort town of Bled. Živkovi� began the meeting by referring specifically to the rumours that were circulating about the imminent end of the regime.56 Such gossip was, in his words, “killing” the reputation and the “permanence” of the government. Not sparing anyone – ­except himself and King Aleksandar – Živkovi� accused “some” of his own ministers of complicity in this deplorable development. He also accused unnamed ministers of deviating from the government’s goals and positions and of manipulating ministry staff for personal or party reasons. Živkovi� then read out a program to which all of the ministers were to adhere strictly. That program called for a renewed commitment to the

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ideals of 6 January and 3 October 1929. It reaffirmed the existence of “one nation [narod] and one national feeling. Everyone exalts the respect of tribal names and traditions, but these must always serve the development of national synthesis and unity. Tribal flags belong piously to the past, because the national future wants only the Yugoslav national tricolour.” The division of the country into nine banovinas had been “final.” The program also emphasized the complete unanimity of the council and absolutely denied the possibility of any return to party politics. Contrary to public opinion and rumour, the ministers “enter into the government as individuals, and not as party people or representatives of any tribal, religious, or political group whatsoever.” Politics “in the old form” would never return. The program closed with a declaration of support for the Yugoslav Sokol movement, which was part of “the program of state politics which is to be implemented without stoppage.” The Sokol movement, and “each cultural, humane, and economic action, insofar as it is not in the state’s hands, will in each case meet with help from the side of the state, if it is not against state policies or the Yugoslav national thought.”57 The public was told that the ministers had adopted the program unanimously. However, the confidential minutes of the discussion that followed the reading of the declaration revealed some fissures. Foreign Minister Vojislav Marinkovi� observed that rumours had multiplied exponentially since the recent entry of four Croats into the cabinet. Some among the public regarded this as a “coalition government.” Marinkovi� called for all ministers to reach out more to the public in order to dispel the notion that “homogeneity” was lacking. Referring to the formerly Habsburg areas of the country, Marinkovi� noted that steps needed to be taken to ensure that employment discrimination did not arise because of old disputes from the days of the “struggle for the national idea.” “What has been, has been, and must sink into oblivion. All those who sincerely join today’s Yugoslavism must be equal.” Marinkovi� appeared to believe that only Serbs, and not Croats or Slovenes, had undertaken a national struggle prior to 1918. Agriculture and Water Minister Stanko Šibenik accepted Živkovi�’s program but added that it placed too little emphasis on “old traditions,” which could not be neglected if national unity were to be quickly attained. Minister without Portfolio Nikola Uzunovi� suggested that a statement that there was not enough emphasis on “old traditions” might be amended to the program. This was done; the ministers then approved the program unanimously.

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In the wake of the July 1930 meeting of the Ministerial Council, the regime hammered home the message that a new era had begun with 6 January 1929. Now, according to the council, citizens needed to understand that they had to accept the Royal Manifesto of 6 January “entirely: for its motives and for its aspirations.” Like the “historical borders,” which had vanished to make way for the banovinas, the situation had changed “forever.” They now had to live and work in the spirit and service of the Yugoslav thought, “in official work as well as in private life.”58 In the schools and in society as a whole, the regime wanted “the Yugoslav thought” to permeate everything. “From elementary school to the University, teaching must be carried out strictly in the Yugoslav national spirit, and with the cult of youth for national history and culture, and with a deep faith in the progressive future of Yugoslavia.”59 Unitarist organizations such as Jugoslovenska akcija (Yugoslav Action) and Zveza slovenskih vojakov (Union of Slovene Soldiers) received enthusiastic support from the government, especially if they proselytized the gospel of state Yugoslavism in formerly Habsburg areas.60 All of this received a boost on 25 August 1930, when the Ministerial Council decided to mobilize the population even more strongly in order to prevent a return to “tribal politics.” Most importantly for the longer term, Živkovi� called for the formation of a political party that would represent the government’s interests and goals. In language indicative of the regime’s approach to “voluntarism,” Živkovi� stated that “no one will be forced to enter the organization, but anyone who is against [it], anyone who hinders [it], he will draw the consequences.”61 A month earlier, in Banja Luka, Živkovi� had been even clearer: “Today the state demands from each person activity. Whosoever is not active, he expresses through that [inactivity] that he is an opponent of today’s state of affairs.”62 But what was this fabled “Yugoslav thought?” Uncertainty about this had provoked Šibenik’s question as well as his insistence on a positive mention of “tribal traditions.” Surprisingly, whether out of fear of repression or simple ignorance, few asked this question bluntly. When the question was raised, it generated a cacophony of answers. Simply put, despite literally thousands of laws, regulations, and circulars calling for the abandonment of “tribalism,” and despite the trumpeting of a new and modern Yugoslav identity, a core question remain unanswered: Did the shift to Yugoslavism entail the complete elimination and denial of the “tribal” past, or did it mean building an ecumenical Yugoslav identity on “tribal” foundations? Or, in the plain language of the peasantry,

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could a “good Croat,” “a good Slovene,” or a “good Serb” also be a “good Yugoslav?” Or could one only become a “good Yugoslav” by utterly renouncing one’s previous identity? No clear answer was forthcoming, and the few explications that emerged sounded naively utopian, fantastically obtuse, or suspiciously biased. Indeed, not a few pronouncements on Yugoslavism shared all of these dubious traits. Many of the utterances on the topic by the regime’s own officials on the meaning of Yugoslavism had a fatal flaw: their prima facie ecumenical arguments, even when crafted with care, foundered on their heavy reliance on Serbian symbols and traditions. Throughout the dictatorship, unitarism would remain de facto Serb nationalism. To be sure, Croats and Slovenes were invited to participate in the “Yugoslav mission.” A good example came from the pen of the Bosnian Serb avant-garde writer Dimitrije Mitrinovi�, who had as a young man been an active member of the movement Mlada Bosna (Young Bosnia). On Vidovdan, the most important holiday on the Serbian calendar, Mitrinovi� wrote in Politika: Essence is our past. The Serb spirit is our past and [our] base and foundation … YUGOSLAVIA WILL BE THAT ORGAN OF MANKIND WHICH WILL FOR THE FIRST TIME REALIZE THE RACIAL IDEAL OF HUMAN PERFECTION, a massive ideal and in the masses. Let not the completely conscious son of Lazar, Serb, Serbian, and Serb in general [Srbin, Srbijanac i Srbin u opšte] mourn for that. Let not the Serb clan mourn for that, and let them not turn back, because the wife of Lot was transformed into a pillar of salt … The future of Yugoslavia is not only an eastern, Balkan future, but also a very Western future, very Slavic, modern, and Western. Croats and Slovenes are, just as much as Serbs, Yugoslavia; one of the main empires in the human drama.63

As expressed here by Mitrinovi�, advocates of Yugoslavism hailed it as the national ideology of the future, arguing that in order to survive threats from neighbouring nations, the South Slavs should abandon the “tribal” identities that were holding back their political and economic development.64 Thinkers such as the Croat unitarist Mijo Radoševi� maintained that a new and modern Yugoslav nationalism would completely replace the “untruthful” and “degenerative” nationalisms and “historical traditionalism” of Serbs, Croats, Slovenes, and Bulgars.65 From the regime’s perspective, however, the Serb national identity was

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not to be discarded, for only that identity (according to the Serbs) had been powerful enough to break free from foreign bondage. Indeed, that identity was to serve as the model of the new Yugoslav identity.66 In this sense, the shift from Serb “tribal” identity to Yugoslav identity was smaller than what was required of other South Slavic identities. And non-Serbs perceived the country’s new administrative boundaries as reinforcing this pro-Serb bias. The unitarists themselves never succeeded in developing a consistent ideology. Nor did the unitarist rhetoric and policies ever succeed in adopting more than a veneer of assimilationist vocabulary. Even the most zealous unitarist ideologues revealed this in their rhetorical shifts.67 Their opponents, such as Svetozar Pribi�evi� – himself of course an Icarus of unitarist Yugoslavism – accurately observed that, far from attracting a broad and genuine following, the Yugoslav thought remained an essentially “bureaucratic term,” with each nationality tenaciously retaining its own national consciousness.68 Non-Serbs overwhelmingly refused to subscribe to unitarist ideology. All the while, the regime usually tolerated and sometimes even encouraged expressions of nationalist sentiment by Serbs while branding similar expressions by non-Serbs as separatist.69 “The ‘national-patriotic character’ was found in the actions of exclusively Serb associations … the enlightening actions of which the local Dalmatian administration was advised to support, but never in Croat organizations.”70 Pribi�evi� believed that “sometimes the greatest opponents of the Yugoslav idea gathered about the dictatorship of King Aleksandar” and that “in the new ‘Yugoslav era’ all the essential state departments found themselves in the hands of those Serbs who had distinguished themselves most in Great Serbian propaganda.”71 In his rare public pronouncements, King Aleksandar did try to project a genuinely new Yugoslavism. In a ceremony on 6 September 1930, Crown Prince Petar’s birthday, the king “buried” the Serbian military colours and presented the army with new Yugoslav colours.72 No one who possessed even casual knowledge of the king can doubt that this act was an enormous sacrifice on his part. For Aleksandar, always first and foremost a Serb soldier, and one who had witnessed first-hand Serbia’s massive losses in the First World War, the Serbian military colours were the fount of his most cherished values. And therein lay the problem: however strong the symbolism of his act, the king could not break free of his value system. And even if he had been able to do so, it

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would not have been enough to counter the thousands of officials who discriminated against non-Serbs on a daily basis. From the outset of the dictatorship, it was apparent that even the modest degree of accommodation offered to other nationalities under the unitarist program was anathema to Serb nationalists. The regime proved pathetically inept at selling Yugoslav ideology not only to nonSerbs but also to Serbs themselves.73 At the University of Belgrade, most of the professors, whatever their political persuasion, resented being forced to teach fantastic theories about integral Yugoslavism, which they now were required to do.74 Yet hindsight tells us that the most serious problem was that the dictatorship had initiated a bifurcation between Serb nationalism on the one hand and unitarism as de facto Serb nationalism on the other. Many Serb nationalist intellectuals simply could not accept the regime’s suggestion, however mildly broached, that Serb nationalism had been complicit in the dysfunction of the 1920s.75 The dictatorship thus exacerbated relations between Serb nationalists and King Aleksandar even while “strengthen[ing] the impression that he had not risen above his dynasty’s purely Serbian relations.”76 In this way, it failed both with Serbs and with non-Serbs. Blood, Sacrifice, Victimization, and Yugoslavism In discussing the permutations of unitarist Yugoslav ideology during the years of King Aleksandar’s dictatorship, it pays to look closely at the metaphors used by this ostensibly modern ideology. Although perhaps more fanatical than most, the Adriatic Sentinel was hardly alone in its use of organic and proto-fascist metaphors. Throughout the interwar period, but especially after 1929, the agents and defenders of the Yugoslav state availed themselves of a primitive rhetoric of krv (blood), žrtve (victims), and žrtvovanje (sacrifice). The dictatorship resorted to these powerful symbols in its efforts to quash opposition, criticism, and even the existence of independent individuals in society. Through this sort of rhetoric, it attempted to valorize its claims to superiority and to defend the essentially Serbian values that infused its definition of integral Yugoslavism. This sort of rhetoric had rooted itself in the Yugoslav lands long before Aleksandar’s dictatorship. For examples, one need only look to Serbian epic poetry and songs about the Battle of Kosovo. The same rhetoric reappeared on the eve of the Sixth of January Dictatorship,

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when the newspaper Glas Bosne ran an editorial complaining that Sarajevo had not officially celebrated the ten-year anniversary of the arrival of the Serbian Army in the city:77 Ten years after the liberation of Sarajevo we have lived to see that they are spitting on the honour of the Nation, that they throw mud on the most momentous and most splendid date in the history of Sarajevo from its founding until the present. They tried to create conspiracies, but the blood of the Nation began to speak, because it could no longer bear this. Sarajevan Serbs could not tolerate that [their opponents] walk with ingratitude all over the victims of Serbia and national [read: Serb] Bosnia, that they no longer remember the day when they, too, became free people. Serbs, you have the right to defend yourselves, yourselves [sic] and your sanctity which they are persecuting … Serbs, you have the right, your duty is to prepare yourself for defence, because they are threatening us, threatening us bloodily, with the return of our most difficult days.78

In the Bosnian and Yugoslav contexts, this was tantamount to an invitation to civil war. On the eve of the dictatorship, as was seen earlier, organic and blood rhetoric was also present in the debate over “amputating” the formerly Habsburg areas from the “Serbian lands.” In his attack on amputation as a solution to the Serbo-Croatian dispute, Janko Baričevi� wrote: Please, brothers, remove the blindfolds from your eyes, lest it come to that green, tubercular, hatred full of boils which will corrode our people. The blood of fratricidal struggle will be spilled and forever condemn the progeny and descendants of the Yugoslavs: of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. There you have it: I have spoken and saved my soul. If it were possible to print newspapers with blood, I would write out this scream of my Yugoslav, unitarist soul with blood from my own heart, that you might trust me.79

The regime’s discursive foundation in blood and sacrifice was visible as well in the Royal Manifesto of 6 January 1929. “To My Dear People, To All Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes,” King Aleksandar proclaimed that “to preserve national unity and the integrity of the state, that is the highest goal of My Reign, and that must be the greatest law for Me and for everyone … My love toward the Fatherland, as well as piety toward the countless precious victims who fell for that ideal, command

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this of Me.” Commenting on this plea, Silvije Alfirevi�, in the journal Jadranska straža (Adriatic Sentinel) wrote that “no one may … feel like they are a foreigner in their own homeland and own state, every citizen may experience equal rights, just as they must equally fulfil their duties to make sacrifices and help with the construction. And the state will keep order and preserve security, with its moral and material abilities.”80 The king’s perception of his own country was always clear. In his words, “in the world there is no holier duty than the defence of one’s own nation and belief, the defence of one’s own hearth, one’s old and frail … [sic] We are not struggling only for ourselves, but also for our children, for our descendants, for future generations. For them we make and will make until the end all necessary sacrifices, just as Christ voluntarily sacrificed himself for humankind.”81 In justifying his regime, he stated that “[it is] my sacred duty to which I am directed in this difficult moment by the oath of the victims from Kolubara, Albanian Golgotha, and Kajmakčalan.”82 Similarly, ideologues of the time invoked the blood of the fallen of the First World War. Thus, a writer in Politika on 1 December 1932 referred to the victory of the “Serb divisions and Yugoslav legions [which] brought a death sentence to the enslaved past and a dawn to the free future. The blood of martyrs was the seeds [sic] of freedom and a common fatherland dreamt of for centuries. Because, the word of the preacher of the Yugoslav thought becomes an accomplished act only through the sword and blood.”83 During the dictatorship, the rhetoric of blood and sacrifice was omnipresent in political life. Indeed, it was almost impossible to find a speech by any significant government representative that did not contain at least one sentence about the need to respect and emulate the “deceased generations” that had sacrificed themselves for the “common fatherland.” This rhetoric was featured in arguments justifying the new banovinas; thus, the blood of “weaker” urban regions needed to be mixed with “stronger” peasant blood. Such statements were repeated every day – at demonstrations, at work, in the press, and in the schools. The message was always clear: all Yugoslavs had survived and struggled against “the foreign yoke,” but the Serbs had sacrificed the most for the common homeland. In this way, the “Yugoslav” language of blood and sacrifice always stood firmly embedded in a Serbian foundation, on the base of the cult of Vidovdan (St Vitus’s Day) and the Battle of Kosovo in 1389. All fealty delegations had to remember this when they paid their

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ritual visits to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Avala near Belgrade and to the tomb of King Petar Karađorđevi� at Oplenac. In the schools, children were taught that every “healthy” citizen of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia must be constantly ready to sacrifice himself or herself in the common defence against the foreign – but also the internal – enemy. To best carry out this “sacred” duty, they were encouraged to join various “national” organizations such as the Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia and the Adriatic Sentinel. Later, as adults, the men knew they owed “God, the King, and the Fatherland” their “last breath and the last drop of their own blood.”84 The same rhetoric featured in the oaths sworn by Croat peasants at the mass rally organized in Zagreb in December 1930 by the Yugoslav peasant movement of Karla Kovačevi�. “[We] will defend this holy land, filled with the blood of our best sons, until our last breath. We swear that we will bring all of our work, all of our efforts, all of our thoughts and wishes into harmony with the slogan: with faith in God and the King and the Fatherland. So help me God!”85 Magazines from the years of the dictatorship often featured articles on blood and the need for sacrifice. Perhaps the best example of this was the Split magazine Soko na Jadranu (Falcon on the Adriatic). In 1930, to commemorate the burial of the Serbian military colours and the introduction of new Yugoslav military flags, this journal published a kind of poem by Tone Kamenjak titled “Krv” (Blood). Permutations of “krv” appeared a dozen times in the short poem, which recounted how the bloody peonies of Kosovo would at last blossom “white as day – as joy – as Freedom” after Serbdom arrived in the form of “White Eagles.86 In a different issue of the same magazine, “every Janez, Jovan, and Ivan” would sacrifice himself for the king and the fatherland.87 Taking into account the dangerous and hostile international atmosphere of the time, the regime’s ideologues regarded their era as a particularly critical one that required sacrifice. Every citizen had a duty to become a worker (radnik) for the Yugoslav nation, to think as a Yugoslav, and to be vigilant against all threats to Yugoslavia. Everything possible was done to create a rhetorical dichotomy in which “narodni radnici” (national workers) opposed the “neprijatelji naroda” (enemies of the people/nation). Nor did the “tribal” opponents of Serb and Yugoslav ideologues hesitate to employ atavistic rhetoric. With the assassination of Stjepan Radi� and his party comrades in the parliament in Belgrade in June 1928, Croat nationalists received their true martyrs. During the

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dictatorship, Croats sold pictures of the “June martyrs,” despite bans on such “tribal” activities.88 At the same time, Croat nationalist intellectuals disseminated the thesis that “Bosnian Muslims” were really “Croats of the purest blood.” They also described how the “SlavicAryan blood felt a deep repulsion from Orthodoxy just as the Goths had once had to destroy Byzantium in order to develop their own state and Church.”89 This rhetoric reached its peak at the end of the 1930s, when Mladen Lorkovi� wrote that “there is no doubt: the division of Croats into Islamic and Christian [parts], as well as the centuries of mutual struggles between these two branches, is the greatest tragedy of the Croatian past. Even today we carry its difficult consequences. While the Islamic and Christian Croats bled, a significant part of their country was settled by a non-Croat element.”90 The Islamic Religious Community, Muslims, and Yugoslav Ideology in the Dictatorship In Bosnia and Herzegovina, the regime continued trying to solidify its position vis-à-vis the remnants of the Yugoslav Muslim Organization (JMO). As already noted, the JMO’s leader, Mehmed Spaho, with good reason, viewed the dictatorship as a nest of Radical politicians who opposed a distinct Bosnian and Herzegovinian regional identity. At least initially, the Bosnian Reis-ul-Ulema gave the dictatorship the benefit of the doubt and tried to cohabit with it. But soon enough, Muslim leaders began to share Spaho’s suspicions. The discomfort felt by the clergy figured prominently in the resignation of the Bosnian Reis-ul-Ulema, Džemaludin Čauševi�. Already deeply troubled by ongoing abuses against Muslims and by the “Yugoslav holiday” of St Sava, Čauševi� now saw himself confronted by an assault on the very structure of the Islamic community in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Nor could he tolerate that bureaucrats were treating him as “an ordinary state bureaucrat, and not as the leader of one of three most important religious communities in the country.”91 He bitterly but futilely opposed the government’s efforts – predictably spearheaded by Milan Srški�’s Justice Ministry – to emasculate the office of the Bosnian Reis-ul-Ulema and other regional Islamic clergy by reducing and transferring all their powers and influence to Belgrade. This was done through the January 1930 law on the Islamska vjerska zajednica (Islamic Religious Community, or IVZ), which shifted the seat of the Reis to Belgrade from Sarajevo.

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The state and the Islamic religious hierarchy shared an interest in ending the chaotic legal situation confronting the Muslims of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia.92 Čauševi� likely did not object to becoming the religious leader of all Yugoslav Muslims, but he did not agree with the structure proposed under the new law,93 which made the IVZ directly accountable to the Justice Ministry.94 In July, the IVZ received its own constitution regulating its operations.95 This law represented another piece in Srški�’s strategy for destroying the JMO and Bosnia and Herzegovina’s regional identity.96 Srški� hoped that the IVZ, which he planned to stock with pro-Belgrade Muslims, would soon stand as the only legitimate representative of Muslims in Yugoslavia.97 Effective immediately with the passage of the January law, Čauševi� lost his old position. However, in February he was provisionally appointed by King Aleksandar to be the Reis-ul-Ulema of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia.98 Ibrahim Maglajli�, the retired former mufti of Tuzla and Banja Luka, who formally assumed office as the Yugoslav Reis-ulUlema at the end of October 1930, quickly proved himself more pliant to the government’s unitarist plans than Čauševi�.99 Maglajli� did not contest the St Sava holiday and lent no succour to the banned JMO, which was led by his rival, Spaho. In this narrow sense, the government viewed Maglajli� as the preferable choice even though his more conservative interpretations of Islam actually placed him further than Čauševi� from the purportedly modern ideology of Yugoslavism.100 Moreover, Maglajli� – the quintessential politically engaged Muslim cleric in Bosnia and Herzegovina – hardly seemed a natural choice for a government supposedly pursuing the complete depoliticization of religion. Yet in the 1920s, Maglajli� had used politics to show his affinity for Belgrade.101 By contrast, Čauševi�’s only political engagement had come in the form of his protests against attacks on Muslims per se.102 This proved more than enough to summon the lasting ire of Srški�. But even Maglajli� sometimes raised his voice – usually in vain – to prevent the ongoing destruction, or “transfer” for non-religious uses or to non-Muslim owners, of Muslim-owned property and Islamic cultural and religious objects.103 In these protests, at least, Maglajli� emulated his predecessor by phrasing his complaints in the language of Yugoslavism. For example, in June 1931, he wrote to the Ministry of Justice complaining about the demolition of mosques, the exhumation of bodies from Muslim cemeteries, and the illegal seizure of properties from the wakfs (vakufi), that is, Muslim charitable organizations.104 “Knowing that these acts do not lead towards good,” he wrote, “I cannot conceal

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my deep and heavy pains, which I feel both as the religious leader of the Muslims and as a sincere patriot, on the heart of whom weighs the well-being and progress of both the Islamic Religious Community and our Kingdom of Yugoslavia.” He referred to Muslims as “a peaceful element loyal to the King and the Fatherland, an element which satisfies its civic duties and cooperates in all fields of our national state consolidation.” He warned explicitly that the IVZ would lose “all its worthiness” if the state did nothing to intervene in such cases.105 As evidence for his argument about the IVZ, he attached a long letter from the wakf administrative (vakuf-mearif ) directorate in Skopje.106 The authors referred to “popular indisposition towards the Law and Constitution of the IVZ, and towards the organs established by it. These have brought them only a worse state of affairs compared to what had been before these laws.” They noted in painstaking detail the utter lack of cooperation exhibited by the local authorities of concern to the IVZ. They then cited a litany of “barbaric” abuses inflicted on the Islamic community in “Southern Serbia.” As was noted earlier, the secular and military authorities had carried out the seizures and were using the properties for a variety of purposes, including as Sokol Houses. In at least one case, in Gostivar, the district chief personally supervised the destruction of an important mosque and its minaret. He then drank a toast to the state on the fresh ruins. In another case, in Skopje, military authorities unearthed freshly buried bodies from a Muslim cemetery in order to make way for an ammunition depot. The Justice Ministry, acknowledging the legitimacy of the complaint, instructed the ban of Vardar Banovina to look into the matter and to prevent such incidents from happening again.107 But this did little to stop the abuses, which would continue throughout the dictatorship. In November 1934, Maglajli� complained to the acting Minister of Justice that the press,“[in] newspapers, books, textbooks and other similar things, writes insultingly about Islam and Muslims.” In many cases, the authors of these offensive articles were state employees, no less. He noted that his repeated complaints about this matter since August 1933 had fallen on deaf ears. The minister responded a few days later, stating that he had sent officials in Sarajevo, Novi Sad, Belgrade, and Zagreb a note to correct this matter.108 At all levels of the state, officials showed a worrying propensity to regard Islam as an obstacle to state integration.109 Investigations into allegations of discrimination against Muslims were rare. It was not only Islamic properties and cultural objects that suffered. Having established the IVZ, the regime did not hesitate to intervene

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in personnel decisions in the Islamic community. Having formally dismissed almost all Muslim clerics of note during the establishment of the IVZ, the Ministry of Justice had a free hand to purge the clergy.110 The Ministry of Justice’s Religious Department, which had assumed the functions of the Ministry of Religion after the latter was eliminated in the spring of 1929, enforced the implementation of Yugoslav ideology in the various religious communities. Only clerics who had solid Yugoslav credentials and who spoke the “state language” well could hope to receive top posts and to advance rapidly in their careers. Particularly in the “sensitive” southern border areas, the government strove to prevent Islamic clergy from sowing discord. A revealing letter written by Ban Živojin Lazi� of Vardar Banovina in March 1930 to Milan Srški� at the Justice Ministry provides clear evidence of the calculations underlying such decisions. Lazi� recommended relocating the mufti for the district of Debar, Ali Husim. Although Husim had received high marks from Serb officials in the area, Lazi� felt it was too dangerous to leave Husim, a “conscious Albanian [svestan Albanac],” in a border area. Likewise, “for Priština it is necessary to find an especially appropriate candidate for Mufti. He may not be an albanian [sic], [so] that he might not conduct Albanian politics in that sensitive area with a prevalent Albanian element and fall into connections [upasti u veze] with the Kosovo Committee. Either a Turk or a bosnian [sic] is needed, or – this would be best – one of the muftis from Sandžak who have hitherto shown themselves to be loyal, good, and nationally conscious.”111 However, Lazi� recommended leaving the mufti of Bitola, Selim Talat, in place, because he was an ethnic Turk who would probably not fraternize politically with the local Albanians. Lazi� also left in place those clerics whom he thought would serve for “the good of the King and the Fatherland.”112 As with the Croats, the regime attempted to co-opt former politicians among the Bosnian Muslims. In addition to its arrangement with Maglajli�, the regime sought to anoint Salih Balji�, a professor and the former JMO mayor of Mostar, as the replacement for the JMO leader, Spaho. In other words, Balji� was to play the role that Karla Kovačevi� had been assigned to perform among the Croats. At first glance, Balji�, one of Spaho’s closest allies in the JMO in the 1920s, was an odd choice.113 Balji� had refused to accept a ministerial portfolio in the Sixth of January government.114 By 1930, though, he and the regime had reached a rapprochement. As one of the very few Bosnian Muslims quoted in the regime’s major press organs, Balji� castigated Spaho and the rest

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of the JMO leadership for wanting to turn the Muslims of Yugoslavia away from the Yugoslav nation and back into a cul-de-sac of religious exclusivity. Archival documents paint a picture of a Muslim population that received little positive attention from the state. Petty harassment and occasional egregious abuses were the norm, and many Muslims steered clear of the state if possible. One case demonstrates the state’s unreceptive attitude towards Muslims. In August 1931, Šerif M. Makarevi�, a Bosnian Muslim from Doboj, wrote directly to King Aleksandar with a plea for royal intervention.115 Makarevi�, who at that time worked as the leader of the Sokol society in Gostivar in Vardar Banovina, wanted to marry a young Serb woman. Although the girl and her widower mother stood ready to permit the marriage, the local Serb civilian and church authorities objected strenuously. Note that Makarevi� did not demand that his future wife convert to Islam. Faced with the recalcitrance of the local authorities, Makarevi� found himself torn between a religious conversion to Serbian Orthodoxy, which would upset his family in Bosnia, and love for his Serb fiancée, Slavka Ðorđevi�. On receiving Makarevi�’s plea, the Royal Court asked the banovina authorities and the Department for Religion of the Ministry of Justice to look into the matter. The local vicar of the Serbian Orthodox Church, Mirko Roganovi�, argued that in this nationally sensitive area of the country, it was unacceptable for a Muslim to demand to marry a poor Orthodox girl.116 The vicar expressed special outrage that the suitor was a Muslim from “national Bosnia, whose ancients were truly of the Serbian Orthodox faith.” And now this Muslim wanted to marry a Serb after the Serbs of the area had spent five centuries battling Islam.117 He suggested sarcastically that Makarevi� should instead find the daughter of a “bey, aga, mufti, or merchant, etc.”118 Obviously indignant about Makarevi�’s appeal to higher authorities, Roganovi� complained about the “fanatical stubbornness” of the Muslim. Roganovi� then laid out a list of specific objections to the marriage.119 Among other things, he mentioned that the “interests of the state do not allow the multiplication of Muslim families in a sea of Mohammedanism and Albaniandom [more muhamedanstva i arnautluka].”120 He concluded his tirade by asking for the ban on the marriage to be upheld and for Makarevi� to be transferred away from Gostivar. The district chief, forwarding Roganovi�’s letter to the Ministry of Justice, voiced his agreement.121 The case of Šerif Makarevi�, although only one of thousands, highlights the duplicity of the regime of King Aleksandar. If ever the king

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and his regime had indeed valued duty and loyalty to Yugoslavism above tribal and religious affiliations, this was the case with which to demonstrate this commitment. As a Muslim who had dedicated himself to Sokol work, Makarevi� was trying to live Yugoslavism as the regime’s propaganda envisioned it. In the event, however, Makarevi� did not receive the favourable state intervention he was seeking. In December 1931, the Royal Chancellery in Belgrade received notification that Makarevi� had converted to Serbian Orthodoxy in order to remove the hurdle to his marriage.122 For Makarevi� and other pro-Yugoslav Muslims like him, life in Yugoslavia was a frustrating and never-ending search for an identity among contesting groups.123 By contrast, Salih Balji�’s role in support of the regime betrayed no concerns about the position of Muslims in Yugoslavia. Speaking to a meeting in Sarajevo in November 1930 attended by hundreds of Muslims, Balji� stated that the regime was “salutary for the people and the State and [I] as a former representative of the nation now want[ ] to come out actively in public so that our friends and enemies abroad know that the people approves of today’s state of affairs in the country.”124 He continued: “I state that today as well someone may say: the Muslims have assembled and are creating a religious front. But no, we do not want to form fronts or to separate ourselves from our other brothers. From this place I say publicly and with honour that our front is called the Yugoslav front of King Aleksandar.”125 Balji� and his associates also praised the “liberal” law on the IVZ.126 In January 1931, the regime praised the work of Balji� and Maglajli�: The effort of Salih Baljić to extract the Muslims from their position of passivity has brought successes. This is best proved by the participation of a large number of Muslims and the majority of the former members of parliament of this organization [i.e. the JMO] during the journey of the ministers. The organization of the religious community of Muslims headed by the new Reis-ul-Ulema, and the resolution of the agrarian question in Bosnia have consolidated the economic and religious position of Muslims. Thus, it is ever more apparent that there is no reason for Muslims to group themselves politically as a separate whole.127

Initially, the government reported receiving hundreds of letters from Bosnian Muslims in support of Balji�.128 But at the same time, the authorities in Drina Banovina quickly noted the circulation of unkind speculation about Maglajli�. And, as noted earlier, even Maglajli� began

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to have doubts about the new IVZ.129 Like Kovačevi�, neither Balji� nor Maglajli� ever managed to capture the imagination of the people, and they remained two of the few former JMO politicians willing to associate themselves with the regime.130 As Balji� hinted in his speech, the ministers made their visits “to the people” in the autumn of 1930. However, these visits entailed meeting with local notables who were likely to give embellished, positive reports about their areas.131 At these meetings, the ministers emphasized their unity and tried to expand on the government’s program of state Yugoslavism. Thus, Agricultural and Water Minister Stanko Šibenik explained that this new Yugoslavism “is not the inheritance of Serbdom, Croatdom, and Slovenedom after their deaths, because that Yugoslavism would in that manner be an orphan without a mother or a father. Rather, it is the result of a free and sincere conviction and a free decision of all Croats, all Serbs, and all Slovenes that they will henceforth live like Yugoslavs in their new and united national fatherland.”132 His colleague, Minister without Portfolio Mate Drinkovi�, called this kind of Yugoslavism “Royal state Yugoslavism, and that is real Yugoslavism, which has nothing in common with this old party Yugoslavism.”133 On 11 December, they presented the king with their findings. These essentially amounted to laundry lists – for example, demanded were lower taxes, less censorship, and greater investments in infrastructure and social and educational programs.134 The minutes of the meeting noted approvingly that “all healthy national forces [sve zdrave snage narodne]” remained faithful to and enthused about the regime.135 Yet more neutral observers noted that the stops on the ministerial tour had been “progressively unpopular … Hostile comments and criticism became more frequent and resulted in stricter stage management by the Serbian organisers of the tours. This, in itself, produced resentment, especially in the north and west, against the idea of being dragooned into the acceptance of this or that theory, and the impression has thus gained ground that Yugoslavism after all is only a camouflaged banner for Panserbism.”136 In January 1931, King Aleksandar finally overcame security concerns and embarked on a journey to Zagreb. On 25 January, King Aleksandar and Queen Marija arrived there to cheering crowds. They stayed in Zagreb until 4 February. Large sections of the population of Zagreb turned out to welcome the royal couple, and the press dutifully reported on it.137 The regime was unpopular, but the king retained a better reputation, and this was his first visit to Zagreb after 1920.138 But once again, brutal

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police tactics discouraged even some supporters of the monarchy from cheering the royal couple. And, of course, the fact remained that after the dictatorship was proclaimed, it had taken more than two years for Aleksandar to visit Zagreb. Although the visit was successful, the atmosphere in Zagreb remained tense. On 18 February, an agent of the Zagreb police murdered Professor Milan Šufflay, an eccentric Croat intellectual who had written and agitated in favour of Croatian autonomy.139 His murder added to the regime’s growing international notoriety. In one of the first actions of its kind, an impromptu group of prominent international intellectuals, including Heinrich Mann and Albert Einstein, signed a petition protesting Šufflay’s murder.140 Conclusion In Yugoslavia, the official rhetoric privileged the Serb experience. In and of itself, this was understandable in a country established on the basis of a Serb dynasty and “Piedmont.” Yet the denigration or even exclusion of the other “tribal” narratives inevitably created resentment among non-Serbs. The rhetoric of sacrifice and blood would be omnipresent for the duration of the dictatorship. As we shall see, towards the end of the dictatorship, this rhetoric would become even stronger, fuelled by the emotional and political trauma of the assassination of King Aleksandar. The rhetoric of blood and sacrifice severely inhibited constructive criticism of socio-economic and political problems because it allowed the government to depict such commentary as a dangerous attack on the nation. Critics saw themselves accused of weakening “us” in the eternal struggle against internal and external enemies. The damage this did would become even more obvious after the introduction of the September 1931 constitution, when the state used such rhetoric to silence critics of its new “constitutionalism.” Although the use of the rhetoric of blood and sacrifice fit into a general pattern in interwar Europe, this should not be allowed to relativize the danger it posed. In the context of multiethnic and multifaith Yugoslavia, deploying such rhetoric was playing with fire. In retrospect, the July 1930 Ministerial Council declaration and its reconfirmation in August 1930 represented a Pyrrhic victory. By early September, Živkovi� was forced to demand another declaration of

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“loyalty” from his ministers, and a discordant discussion ensued in the Ministerial Council. Živkovi� complained that the ministers had done little or nothing to bring the government to the people and to generate public support for the regime’s lofty goals. Nor could enough of a consensus be found to embark on the vital work of creating a government party. In the immediate term, the members of the government agreed only to appear publicly in groups of two or three throughout the country in order to impress on “the Yugoslav people” the theme of governmental and national unity.141 Živkovi�’s suspicions about his ministers were soon seen to have basis. Only a few weeks later, on 29 September 1930, Anton Korošec, the former Slovene People’s Party leader and the sole Slovene minister in the government, announced his resignation. This undercut the government’s summer propaganda campaign. Although Korošec ostensibly resigned because of health concerns, it soon became an open secret that he disagreed strongly with the redoubling of the unitarist course.142 The spring and summer of 1931 were largely uneventful. The government focused on implementing the flood of laws that had entered into force by royal decree since January 1929. In May 1931, Yugoslavia received a large stabilization loan from France – aptly described by one historian as a “diplomatic subsidy.”143 In short, everything seemed to be proceeding as planned. Beneath the surface, however, rumours continued to swirl that the government could not survive in its present state.144 Abroad, Yugoslavia’s British, French, and Czechoslovak allies had begun hinting that they would welcome a “normalization” of the regime.145 There is circumstantial evidence that King Aleksandar also received an impetus in this direction from the toppling of King Alfonso XIII in Spain in April 1931.146 The government was maintaining a delicate balancing act. On the one hand, it issued steadfast denials that it was contemplating any major changes. It labelled as a state enemy anyone who dared voice a desire, hope, or suggestion for regime reform. On the other hand, King Aleksandar often reminded visiting foreign journalists that he had conceived of the regime as a “temporary” solution until such time as parliamentarism could be safely reintroduced in Yugoslavia.147 In August 1931, the regime’s propaganda machinery began focusing on the ten-year anniversary of King Aleksandar’s reign. The rhetorical fireworks released on this occasion fit solidly into a trend begun on

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6 January 1929. No form of adulation or superlative adjective seemed too excessive to celebrate his “genius.” A leader in Politika gushed that “in the village and in the city, in all regions of Yugoslavia, His spirit is felt, His Thought, His good intention, His directive, His guiding hand, in which our people has trust and faith.”148 The king and his regime seemed intent to let the Yugoslav experiment run still longer.

5  Policing Yugoslavism: Surveillance, Denunciations, and Ideology in Daily Life

During King Aleksandar’s dictatorship, the inhabitants of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia faced ever-increasing surveillance in their daily lives.1 Archival documents indicate how closely the state monitored political and ideological loyalty to the dictatorship and its ideology of Yugoslavism. The eyes and ears of the state were everywhere, roaming far beyond opposition politicians and other elites.2 Soldiers, police, bureaucrats, and correspondents of the Central Press Bureau all kept track of the raspoloženje naroda (mood of the population), and many ordinary citizens took it upon themselves to denounce suspicious individuals. Those denunciations were often slanderous or opportunistic. Yet the state and its zealous agents and adherents were not content just to monitor activities: this surveillance apparatus had a strong proactive element, with the servants of the state seeking to inculcate and preserve a strong belief in national unity. The test the authorities established for loyalty set a dauntingly high standard; to show one’s reliability, it was no longer enough simply not to oppose the regime and its ideology. The state’s agents could only be satisfied by active participation in the cultural and political institutions of Yugoslavism. All of this transformed local arenas – taverns and classrooms, for example – into contested political and ideological forums. This chapter analyses examples of the daily interplay between state surveillance and official ideology during the dictatorship of King Aleksandar. The Yugoslav Project in a Regional Context In Central Europe and the Balkans in the interwar years, every state took a strong interest in its citizens’ political activities. All of the states

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in those regions except Czechoslovakia eventually introduced some form of authoritarian governance. Police officials at all levels from ministries down to municipalities were tasked with monitoring and controlling all political activities. This held true even in the most liberal states in the region. In an uncertain international environment, every state needed to be on constant guard against enemies both internal and external. Socialists, communists, anarchists, spies, foreign irredentists, and separatists all presented real and imagined threats. Often, young states such as Yugoslavia had inherited these suspicions from their former imperial masters, as well as their apparatus for monitoring potential dissidents. The guardians of the new states found it prudent to maintain and expand the internal security apparatuses that had been in place before and during the war. As in the early Soviet Union, the Yugoslav authorities adopted proactive surveillance. “Surveillance, then, was not designed to uncover popular sentiments and moods, nor was it intended merely to keep people under control; its whole purpose was to act on people, to change them.”3 In Yugoslavia, the authorities were seeking to convert citizens to the integral Yugoslav ideology from “tribalism” and to strengthen the convictions of those already converted. As in the Soviet Union, the Yugoslav police were not content with passive acceptance of the official ideology; only active participation indicated loyalty to the regime. This fostered a Manichean atmosphere in which “he who is not with us, is against us.” For the Yugoslav regime, it was not enough to block manifestations of opposition or negative sentiments. The goal was to create a new type of man, a Homo yugoslavicus.4 Yet unlike the Soviet Union, the interwar Yugoslav state never underwent a massive modernization that would have allowed the implementation of the state’s ideology to approximate a totalitarian ideal.5 The regime set out to eliminate all political and social behaviour that did not accord with its ideology; however, state inefficiency, official vacillation, and ideological murkiness impeded progress towards that objective. In neighbouring Romania, the government during the same period embarked on a project of “reconstitution of the nation” within the borders of România Mare (Greater Romania).6 Under King Aleksandar, Yugoslav society underwent a much milder and less efficient form of Gleichschaltung, which entailed the authorities banning hundreds of religious and “tribal” organizations and societies, ranging from village choral groups to sports teams.

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Early Yugoslav Surveillance From the outset, high government officials in the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes sensed a need for surveillance. Svetozar Pribi�evi�, the first Minister of Internal Affairs, zealously sought to protect the state from myriad real and perceived threats. In doing so, he encouraged King Aleksandar’s more authoritarian and interventionist tendencies.7 Besides the array of laws and the police and armed forces at his disposal, Pribi�evi� drew on paramilitary groups to harass communists and nationalist political opponents.8 During its lopsided struggle with the Komunistička partija Jugoslavije (Communist Party of Yugoslavia, or KPJ), the Yugoslav state refined and expanded its police surveillance methods.9 In March 1920, in Croatia, Slavonia, Dalmatia, and Montenegro, and then again in August 1920 in Serbia and Macedonia, the Communists gained majorities of council seats in many industrial centres. In the November 1920 elections for the Constituent Assembly, the Communists received 198,736 votes, which placed them solidly as the fourth-largest party in the country. The KPJ received most of its votes in impoverished, underdeveloped, and nationally disaffected rural areas.10 Despite the surprisingly strong support it received, the KPJ was not a real threat to the kingdom. The confusion among the KPJ’s leading factions with regard to peasant and national questions was rivalled only by the peasantry’s ignorance of communism. When a poor peasant in Macedonia, Montenegro, or Kosovo cast his ballot for the communists, it was more a protest against the established parties than a vote for communist rule. The KPJ did not begin to fathom the significance of the national question until after it embraced federalism at its Second Conference in 1923.11 Indeed, when it came to national ideology, the KPJ in 1920–1 did not stray far from the government’s own calls for centralism and narodno jedinstvo (national unity). However, “the unitarism of the KPJ was different from that of certain non-Communist politicians (Pribi�evi�) inasmuch as the Communist insistence on the common nationhood … implied that the entire matter ought not arouse any further controversy.”12 Even so, the KPJ’s impressive electoral performance, combined with communist-inspired strikes, stoked the fears of the bourgeois and peasant parties and, above all, of King Aleksandar.13 In the anxiety-wracked Europe of 1920, a large popular vote for a communist party anywhere

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set alarm bells ringing, and Yugoslavia was no exception in this respect. King Aleksandar, who as a youth had spent time in the Russian Empire as a member of the elite Corps of Pages, and who had lost relatives to the Bolshevik Revolution, nursed a visceral antipathy towards communism.14 Greatly strengthening this hostility were the tens of thousands of refugees from the Russian Civil War who had found a safe haven in Yugoslavia.15 The Yugoslav state sharpened its knife of oppression on the whetstone of communist opposition. With its propaganda, strikes, and general hotheadedness, the KPJ had made itself a target for government recrimination. The first blow came at the end of December 1920, when Belgrade issued an obznana (proclamation) banning communist propaganda and imposing harsh restrictions on the KPJ’s activities. The government also arrested several elected communist officials.16 A failed attempt on the life of Prince Regent Aleksandar in the summer of 1921, and the successful assassination of former Minister of Internal Affairs Milorad Draškovi� on 21 July 1921, brought a still more draconian reaction from the government. Young communist sympathizers acting individually had carried out both attacks, and the KPJ had failed to disassociate itself from them. On 2 August, the National Assembly dissolved the KPJ’s parliamentary club, then banned the party through the new Zakon o zaštiti javne bezbednosti i poretka u državi (Law for the Protection of Public Security and Order in the State).17 Utterly unable to counteract the government’s offensive, the KPJ rapidly disintegrated until it was a shadow of its former self.18 The new law, although intended initially as an anti-communist and anti-anarchist measure, quickly took on much broader significance, in that it provided the foundation for political policing and surveillance in Yugoslavia.19 For that reason, and in order to understand its later modification and operationalization in Alexandrine Yugoslavia, it is worth examining the 1921 law in detail. In Article One, the drafters prohibited all forms of aid to or association with anarchist, communist, and foreign terrorist organizations that posed a threat to “public peace” or to state authorities. The descriptions of these potential criminal activities were broad in scope, encompassing written and spoken propaganda, the provision of weapons, the renting of space to illicit organizations, and so forth.20 Article Two stated that anyone found guilty of actions forbidden by Article One would “be punished with death or imprisonment and hard labour of up to twenty years. Items used in the criminal act will be confiscated.” Anyone aiding or abetting criminal acts could be jailed and sentenced to hard labour for up to twenty years. Articles

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Ten and Eleven lashed out at communist-inspired strikes by prohibiting state employees, on pain of fine or imprisonment, from participating in such activities. Article Twelve forbade the wearing or displaying of any “symbols, flags, or inscriptions, symbol[s] of invitation or instigation to create the opinion that it is necessary to replace the existing legal order with another through a coup, destruction of private property, or the annihilation of public peace.” Article Thirteen allowed the authorities to punish anyone exhibiting samo učestvovanje (mere participation) in anti-state “manifestations” with a 3,000 dinar fine and/or up to a year in prison. Under that article, even innocent bystanders could be swept up in a police action. Under Article Four, law enforcement officials were entitled to seek assistance from the nearest military personnel to uphold public order. Alternatively, the Minister of Internal Affairs could request the temporary seconding of military personnel. If military personnel intervened, the local civilian population would be responsible for quartering the soldiers involved. Rather ambiguously, the law held out the possibility that, in the event of a “rapid restoration of order,” the state would reimburse the local population. Otherwise, the only reimbursement would come from the parties found guilty – an unlikely prospect if they were disaffected peasants turned guerrillas, as was often the case in the Balkans. This dimension of the new law harkened problematically back to one of the most invidious features of the late Kingdom of Serbia, as well as to unpleasant incidents that had transpired at the end of the First World War. Namely, immediately after its victory in the First Balkan War, the Serbian Army had established martial law in the newly conquered territories. The army effectively constructed a state within the state, one in which the local commander ruled the land. This greatly impeded the development of the nascent Serbian parliamentary state, with especially deleterious effects on non-Serb populations.21 Similarly, in September 1920, the army’s cataloguing of draft animals in Croatia generated fears of an impending requisition. This strongly coloured the Croat peasants’ view of the army; indeed, it led to a widespread peasant uprising.22 The 1921 Law for the Protection of Public Security and Order in the State (hereafter “Public Security Law”), combined with the strongly centralist and authoritarian tendencies of the king as well as Svetozar Pribi�evi�, Nikola Paši�, and other leading Serb politicians, created a powerful obstacle to the development of parliamentary democracy. The 1921 law legitimated the actions of those who pursued the state’s enemies. “Police authorities in the field were directed to regard every

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agitation which questioned the created state, yes even suggestions related to the structure of the state, as an anti-state act.”23 Some critics were not blind to the faults of the 1921 law. In his trenchantly argued analysis of it in 1928, the Croat lawyer and HSS member Tomo Jančikovi� exposed its inherent problems.24 The law “was in essence opposed to the basic principles of our Constitution, which – even if it was not the perfect creation of a democracy – nevertheless based itself on democratic principles.” In terms of jurisprudence, the law was “technically bad and maladjusted [nedoteran], raw [neizrađen], full of gaps, and contradictory.” It has been used repeatedly as “a welcome instrument for various police operations, [and it represented] eternal threats and a scarecrow for the opponents of the regime.”25 Jančikovi� noted that the law was purposefully vague on what exactly constituted “anti-state” activity. Setting aside the communists, anarchists, and “terrorists” specifically mentioned, the meaning of “anti-state” was open to interpretation by often abusive local officials. Jančikovi� concluded by condemning the law as “a blow to the face of democracy and a disgrace for our state … Because today every one must face up to the fact that with such laws one does not protect the state but rather ruins it.”26 One example from the eve of the dictatorship demonstrates the state’s willingness to exploit the 1921 law in order to pursue not just separatists and communists but also constructive critics of government policy. In 1928, Professor Dragoljub Jovanovi� of the University of Belgrade, a leader of Serbia’s Agrarian movement, was threatened with prosecution after he spoke out in favour of peasant debt liquidation. To those threats, he replied publicly that he was not frightened. “These [threats] have become a common thing in the mouths of the rulers and their press.”27 He would remain a determined and principled critic of King Aleksandar’s dictatorship. Many politicians opposed the law in the 1920s, albeit only while their parties remained outside government. To illustrate the bankruptcy of the 1921 law, in September 1928, Pribi�evi� himself called for its repeal, even though he had been one of its principal architects.28 All of these critical voices, both the prescient and the belated, fell on deaf ears. “The Sixth of January dictatorship found its complete fulcrum in this law.”29 Surveillance after 6 January 1929 After 6 January 1929, the police, public prosecutors, and the judiciary became key instruments for imposing a unitary Yugoslav identity from above.30 The main differences between pre- and post-1929 were not

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in methods but in goals. Until 1929, the state and the political parties representing it had used security forces and mechanisms to strengthen state security, territorial integrity, and party survival. After 1929, the state security apparatus upheld the same objectives but added to them a new, ideological mission. Archival sources indicate that the broadening of the surveillance apparatus’s mandate to include the verification of ideological loyalty greatly increased the scope and intensity of policing. Above all, it revolutionized how the state evaluated its citizens, in that it brought under scrutiny a significantly larger part of their lives. Most Yugoslav citizens did not realize just how fine and omnipresent a web the state had woven around them. Those who had been objects of surveillance in the 1920s found themselves subjected to much more intrusive monitoring, but so, too, did large new groups of people. The principal legal elements of the new security apparatus accompanying the Royal Manifesto of 6 January 1929 were (1) the Public Security Law, (2) the Law on the State Court for the Protection of the State (hereafter the 1929 State Court Law), and (3) the Law on the Press. The most important state organs tasked with enforcing these laws were the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the nine Sections for State Protection within the banovinas. This section will analyse each of these laws and compare them with earlier, similar laws from the 1920s. The regime after 1929 did not tolerate criticism of its laws, especially the Public Security Law. By 13 January 1929, Prime Minister Živkovi� had ordered lists to be drawn of unqualified and disloyal bureaucrats in all parts of the administrative apparatus. This order soon expanded to include the judicial apparatus.31 From the perspective of Tomo Jančikovi�’s criticism of the 1921 law, the 1929 version was a significant and lamentable step in the direction of increased authoritarianism. The drafters of the 1929 law transcribed verbatim most of the 1921 law of the same name, although never referring explicitly to it.32 But in addition to this, they made important changes. For example, the first paragraph of the 1921 version had at least listed the dissemination of communist or anarchist propaganda as two specifically forbidden types of anti-state activity; the 1929 version was not even that specific.33 The 1929 law included several innovations. Article Three permitted the state to dissolve political parties that attempted to commit the crimes listed in Article One and that “bore religious or tribal markings.”34 Article Four built on this by prohibiting “political” organizations that acted contrary to the spirit of Articles One and Three.

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Article Five strictly regulated meetings. Thus, anyone wishing to hold a meeting had to petition the authorities three days in advance and include a copy of its agenda for approval. Moreover, a police agent had to be present for the entire meeting and had the right to disperse it immediately if it violated the law. In a veritable return to pre-modern legal and penal practices, Article Eight gave the state the right to banish individuals. “In addition to being imprisoned, persons who disturb order and peace can, with a decision of the first instance of administrative-police authority, be expelled to any other place, from which they may not return without the approval of the relevant veliki župan or, respectively, the Administrator of the City of Belgrade. Whosoever returns [without approval] will be punished with up to 30 days imprisonment and be expelled anew.” The final article of the 1929 law, besides immediately promulgating the law as of 6 January, made it clear that the regime placed a very high value on public security and state order. This point was underscored by Article Twenty, which decreed that if the Public Security Law contradicted any other law, the former would be authoritative. Of course, heavy fines and jail sentences accompanied all of the above strictures. The net result was a vast arsenal of legal weapons that could be used against real and perceived enemies of the “state order” and the ideology of Yugoslavism. The single most important change, however, was not mentioned explicitly in the Public Security Law. As will be seen later, the authorities began demanding that the population actively support the regime’s ideology. From the position outlined in Article Thirteen, it took no great leap of logic to classify even apathetic or passive behaviour as hostile to the regime. Taken together with the state’s overarching and intrusive ideology, this brings us close to the aforementioned line between authoritarian and totalitarian regimes. To effect and cement this change, the Sixth of January dictatorship provided the judiciary with new prosecutorial tools. The 1929 State Court Law created a special judicial organ whose jurisdiction included all acts of treason, including those committed outside Yugoslav territory.35 As the legal historian Mustafa Imamovi� points out, the State Court for the Protection of the State enjoyed inquisitorial powers in that “it was charged with ‘investigating, deliberation, and judging’ criminal acts covered by the Law on Public Security on the territory ‘of the entire state.’”36 Under the 1921 Law, regular courts had handled these matters, albeit in a more expedited manner than for regular cases.37 The state’s

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campaign against internal enemies thus received a new and powerful legal nexus, one that, as seen in Article Five of the law, had retroactive effect. Since the State Court for the Protection of the State was disconnected from the rest of the justice system, persons or organizations convicted by it had no right of appeal. As British diplomats correctly observed at the time, “the new administration is not only digging itself in. It’s now putting up its barbed wire.”38 In the first two years of the dictatorship, this court presided over 83 trials in which 403 individuals were sentenced.39 And this was only a fraction of the 2,300 criminal complaints filed for anti-state activity in 1929 alone.40 Those charged with political and ideological crimes were often subjected to police brutality, especially if suspected of communist tendencies. Paradoxically, the same regime permitted prisons to evolve into virtual “Marxist universities.”41 In yet another bid to strengthen its position, the state increased its surveillance of the press after 6 January 1929. Among the first decrees issued was a strengthened version of the 1925 Zakon o štampi (Law on the Press).42 At first glance, the 1925 law had looked like a model of liberal jurisprudence. In practice, however, it had allowed for extensive censorship.43 Article Nineteen provided a list of violations that required the automatic confiscation of the issue in question. Among the forbidden acts were these: insults to the king, members of the royal household, parliament, or foreign statesmen; “direct invitations of citizens to change the Constitution or laws of the land forcibly”; and “severe offenses of public morality.” Section Seven imposed collective responsibility on almost the entire chain of production and distribution of a newspaper for any violations of the law. “For criminal acts committed with the use of the press, [the following] are responsible: the writer, the editor, the publisher, the printer, and the distributor, in accordance with the regulations of this law.” The state could impose heavy fines as well as jail sentences of up to ten years. The 1929 Law on the Press preserved the spirit of the 1925 law but added several innovations that synchronized it with the new public and state security laws. Among the most important modifications to the 1925 law was the replacement of the aforementioned Article Nineteen with Article Three, Clause 5, which prohibited newspapers if “with printed text[s] hatred against the state as a whole, or religious or tribal discord is provoked, and also if citizens are invited to change forcibly the laws of the land.”44 Clause 7 of the same article hammered home a similar point by prohibiting the printing of anything banned

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by the Public Security Law. Articles Five and Six removed the right of appeal foreseen by the 1925 law. In addition, Article Fourteen added a provision allowing the Minister of Internal Affairs to close any newspaper that had been banned three times in one month. The same article allowed for the closing of newspapers that did not immediately print the state’s rebuttals or that did not pay fines. Finally, although it was not included in the Law on the Press, the government let foreign correspondents know they were expected to report only in positive terms on developments in the country if they desired to remain in Yugoslavia as correspondents.45 In sum, the 1929 additions to the Law on the Press greatly strengthened the state’s control of the printed media. Censors were at their most vigilant in banning all manifestations of “tribal” and religious discontent. Articles highlighting disagreements between, say, Croats and Serbs were unlikely to pass the censor’s desk. Yet this censorship also had broader and less expected targets. Descriptions of socio-economic stagnation did not please the censors, who perceived such articles as succour to the state’s internal and external enemies. The censors also took a tough stance on any articles on world politics and economics that might tempt the reader to make “incorrect” or at the very least unflattering analogies with his or her own situation. Thus, by way of example, the Zagreb authorities banned an article in the Catholic newspaper Hrvatska straža (The Croat Sentinel) on the growth of the independence movement in India. They also targeted an article in the newspaper Narodno kolo that examined the impending end of Primo de Rivera’s dictatorship in Spain.46 In the face of such censorship, many editors fell back on insignificant local and foreign news items, officially approved propaganda, and excerpts from positive foreign press coverage of Yugoslavia. Yet the state did not officially acknowledge that censorship existed until 1932.47 Only rarely did rebellious editors publicly hint at the existence of censorship by printing the state prosecutor’s letter of complaint or by simply leaving blank spaces where the censored material would have otherwise appeared.48 To complement the tighter press law, the government in April 1929 established the Centralni presbiro za opštu državnu obaveštajnu službu (Central Press Bureau for General State Intelligence Service, or CPB).49 Located within the Ministerial Council, the CPB had a mandate that specifically included surveillance.50 The bureau had four sections: 1. Otsek domaće štampe (Section of Domestic Press)

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2. Otsek za stranu štampu (Section for Foreign Press) 3. Otsek za Radiofoniju (Section for Radio) 4. Administrativni otsek (Administrative Section)51 The CPB was the most official of all voices, and its network of correspondents in Yugoslavia set the tone that all media outlets were expected to emulate. Directly subordinate only to the Ministerial Council, it had “all the prerogatives and possibilities of a ministry for propaganda” and its own budget.52 As direct representatives of the highest powers in the state, CPB correspondents had unrivalled access to the ban.53 Among other things, they reported on foreign journalists in Yugoslavia, national celebrations, visits by royalty and high governmental representatives, and organizational meetings; activities of VIPs, former politicians, and tourists; and major local economic events. The Minister of Internal Affairs and the Minister of Justice regularly consulted with the CPB on issues related to press, book, theatre, and film censorship. In border areas, the agents also kept track of the writings of the neighbouring foreign press, and in less developed areas, the correspondents even ran entire newspapers.54 For example, M.S. Jovanovi� of the CPB managed and edited the newspaper Vardar in Skopje.55 In general, CPB correspondents served as extra sets of eyes and ears for the state, filing monthly confidential reports on activities in their regions of responsibility. They kept a watchful eye on the dissemination and absorption of Yugoslavism by the population.56 They also monitored local newspapers. They paid special attention to the particular issues in their region. Thus, the correspondent in Novi Sad wrote regularly about Hungarian and German irredentism, while his colleague in Skopje kept an alert eye on the activities of the press in Albania. Finally, “the correspondents especially actively assisted the work of the Sokol, Gajret, and the Adriatic Sentinel, as well as that of all other associations which stand for a Yugoslav platform and integral unity.”57 There were few CPB correspondents – eleven in 1931 – but they had a sweeping mandate.58 Besides monthly reports, they delivered a constant stream of smaller pieces. Clearly, they had to be very efficient and of the highest reliability.59 In a remarkable document, the CPB indicated its preference for people “of pure Yugoslav character and origin.”

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Croats and Slovenes should of course be hired; this, however, should provide them not with a licence to favour their own regions in their reports, “but rather to work in the same sense, namely for the centralistic structure of the state.”60 The government sometimes instructed CPB employees to place certain articles in the newspapers, especially to ensure that events such as the king’s birthday received ample and positive coverage.61 Sometimes, in cooperation with the ban, they might request that the press not report at all on a certain event or controversy. Each banovina administration hosted a “miniature Press Bureau, which has various and delicate tasks. On the one hand it monitors the state of the domestic press, while on the other hand collecting the necessary documentation on life and development on the respective territory.”62 CPB agents abroad served as press attachés in the Yugoslav embassies. They reported on foreign coverage of Yugoslavia, placed proYugoslav articles in the foreign press, and criticized or attempted to suppress critical coverage. In addition, they kept an eye on the writings and activities of Croat and other South Slav émigrés and tried to gain the cooperation of foreign authorities and the foreign press against those émigrés. In all of these activities, the CPB agents had to keep in mind the link between a good image and foreign loans – “one tendentious news item can cost the country millions.”63 While some of these

Figure 5.1. Percentage of literacy by banovina in the population over ten years of age64 100.0 90.0 80.0 70.0 60.0 % 50.0 40.0 30.0 20.0 10.0 0.0 M BE O R AV A ZE VA TA R BE DA LG R R AD E

A IN D

AN

U

S D

R

AL

BA

R

O

TT

LI

VR

A

SA

AV D R

VA

MALE FEMALE

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items were discovered and discarded in the process of postal censorship, a small number inevitably reached the addressee and thus contributed to rumours in Yugoslavia about impending changes in the regime’s structure. The documents relating to the CPB indicate clearly how ideological transmission belts functioned in Yugoslavia. Words and ideas were supposed to travel efficiently and unaltered from the central government to the individual, thus providing him or her with a favourable view of the regime. Nevertheless, as with so many other aspects of the dictatorship, this ambitious mission ran aground on the shoals of harsh socioeconomic and demographic realities. Even a casual examination of contemporary publications reveals an amazing number of newspapers, but many of these enjoyed short press runs before succumbing to the financial pressures of the time.65 More importantly, the appalling literacy figures of the time cast doubt on the size of their readership. Finally, in Yugoslavia in the early 1930s, most of the overwhelmingly peasant population was too poor to purchase newspapers or to possess a radio.66 Everyday Surveillance: “National Workers” vs “Tribalists” Next we consider the impact of the Yugoslav surveillance apparatus. This section will demonstrate that the Yugoslav authorities often went to ridiculous lengths to monitor the behaviour of suspicious individuals – a category that seemed to grow daily. A single case could generate literally hundreds of pages of documents and correspondence, all in the name of protecting the paramount goals of state security and national unity. Each of the vignettes provided below is richly representative of the everyday problems and conflicts that emerged as King Aleksandar’s dictatorship attempted to disseminate, implement, and monitor the regime’s ideological agenda. While the condition of the archives in the former Yugoslavia makes it virtually impossible to engage in any meaningful quantitative analysis of the phenomena described below, extensive archival research demonstrates that such cases repeated themselves hundreds of times throughout the years of the dictatorship. Although it is probably impossible to develop a precise statistical portrait of repression during the dictatorship, Ivana Dobrivojevi� has examined the available data. From 1929 to 1935, at least 3,356 persons were convicted of crimes against the state in the first instance.67 Of these, 803 (23.9 per cent) were Orthodox, 2,229 (66.4 per cent) were Catholic, and 155 (4.6 per cent) were Muslim. Perhaps surprisingly,

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a relatively small percentage of those convicted faced more than five years in prison. To these figures must be added the convictions handed down by the State Court for the Protection of the State, for which precise numbers do not exist. In any case, the aforementioned figures represent a strong increase over the period before 1929. Of most immediate concern to the authorities after 6 January 1929 were the thousands of party politicians – in particular, the dozens of former high-ranking party members. As was briefly mentioned in chapter 2, the state security services kept the most important former politicians under constant surveillance. In Sava Banovina, for example, all the activities of Vladko Maček, Svetozar Pribi�evi�, Milan Šufflay, Ante Trumbi�, and many others were reported on every day by police agents to the Section for State Protection of the banovina administration. No action was too insignificant to be recorded, and for each location, the precise times of arrival and departure were listed. If the individual under surveillance met or even quickly greeted someone, that second person also came under police scrutiny. The famous communist writer Miroslav Krleža recalled that the Zagreb police chief, Josip Bedekovi�, had “invited” him – on the occasion of Krleža’s arrest on suspicion of communist activities in May 1929 – to listen to the stream of denunciations brought to the police. Bedekovi� told him that “in the city I have 2000 agents, and I know everyone who works, and if they work against the state.” Bedekovi� threatened to “liquidate” Krleža and his friends if they persisted with their “anti-state” activities.68 The intrusiveness of the surveillance, combined with the amateurishness of the detectives assigned to it, made it nearly inevitable that those under surveillance noticed, even if they had been naive enough to believe they enjoyed full privacy. For instance, in a scene that would not have been out of place in a Keystone Cops film, the police on at least one occasion clumsily shadowed Vladko Maček, the leader of the banned Croat Peasant Party, while he strolled up Sljeme, a low mountain on the outskirts of Zagreb. However, this chapter concerns itself not only with elites but also with the masses of peasants, merchants, educators, bureaucrats, and sundry police who comprised the overwhelming majority. The monitoring of prominent former politicians and intellectuals and the punishments meted out to them have been well documented and analysed elsewhere.69 Now is the time for us to acquaint ourselves with the broader population’s reception of and resistance to the regime’s ideology and politics.

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The Case of the Singing Separatist The Yugoslav state’s fear of seemingly harmless and apolitical individuals sometimes bordered on the paranoid. An amusing example of the extent to which the authorities would go in the case of a non-political individual was that of Nikola Toth, a schoolteacher in Velika Gorica, a small town not far from Zagreb in Sava Banovina. According to the reports of the district director of Velika Gorica, Toth had encountered problems with the authorities in 1922, when he was disciplined and released from the civil service. He remained unemployed until 1926, when “he was given the job of school inspector of this country because of the intervention of the local Radi�ists. This opportunity and the strength of his official position gave him the opportunity to graft his destructive, separatist Frankist ideas onto the faculty under his supervision, the consequences of which are still being felt today.”70 Toth remained in this position in Velika Gorica until the beginning of the dictatorship, at which time the political winds shifted and his fortunes fell. Itching to remove an annoyance from the town, the authorities ordered Toth to relocate to a new job in Crnojevi� in the Cetinje district of Montenegro. This was a typical tactic: a form of “internal exile” of troublesome civil servants to more disadvantaged parts of the country. Vardar Banovina in particular served as a dumping ground for incompetent and corrupt officials, a sad role that long predated the establishment of the royal dictatorship. This policy somewhat contradicted the policy of resettling the most loyal (in particular, Serb) elements to Vardar Banovina to strengthen the “national domestic element.”71 In this particular case, the wily Toth outwitted the authorities by obtaining a report from a sympathetic doctor attesting that he suffered from a chronic ailment. This “illness” prevented him from working but did allow him to draw the pension that his status as a former school inspector guaranteed him. In 1932, three years after he was to have been moved, the district director vented his frustration in correspondence to the banovina administration. “And so that man still today sits in Velika Gorica. Even though he has for the entire period of his employment worked against the interest of the state, he, together with his wife, draws a state pension.”72 The same Toth “demonstratively abstained from all state and Yugoslav national celebrations before and after 6 January 1929. He never partook of these festivities, even when invited, not even at the welcoming of His Majesty the King during His journey through Velika Gorica in 1931.”73

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To make matters worse – at least in the eyes of the state – the “sickly” Toth refused to stay in his bed and mind his own business. Instead, he had a habit of touring with the choral group Turopoljac, allegedly turning this musical group into a nest of Croat separatism.74 For example, at a meeting on 6 February 1932, he had read a piece that concluded with the rhyme “neka grakču crnih vrana jata, još nas ima još Hrvata” (Let the cawing black crows flock together, we still exist, we Croats). “Tot[h] spoke the last verses several times, which those present applauded and approved.”75 The authorities banned Turopoljac. The district director recommended submitting Toth to a new doctor’s examination, hoping this would blow his cover. He could then be reactivated as a teacher “in a region where he will not be able to deal maliciously on his surroundings in a national or state sense. Insofar as he were to persist with his anti-state work, he would then be fired from the civil service.”76 The authorities repeatedly tried to relocate Toth to Zeta Banovina, but in vain, and the case was finally placed ad acta in 1936.77 Annoying as Toth may have been to the local authorities, it is still surprising how much energy the state devoted to his case.78 The state feared that his apparent success in thwarting the government might set an example for others. With the financial security afforded him by his state pension, Toth “had the time and the means to continue to prosecute his struggle against the state. The reputation which his struggle against the state has given him, helps him [since] in the opinion of people he has emerged as the victor. Thus, even today people here think that nothing can befall Toth, and that the remaining public employees should behave similarly against today’s state structure.”79 By arguing in this manner, the state demonstrated its weakness vis-à-vis individual irredentists. It commanded all political and police power, yet it could not stand even one man sitting in a café singing “Frankist” songs. The state’s tough stance forced the disbandment of countless choral groups in Yugoslavia, especially in Croat-inhabited areas. In not a few cases, these actions were tragicomic. In September 1931, the authorities threatened to disband the Croat men’s choral group Zrinjski in Osijek. When asked to sing the Yugoslav national anthem in August of that year in honour of the ten-year anniversary of King Aleksandar’s reign, the members of Zrinjski had jejunely claimed that they did not know the song. When pressed on the matter, the group’s leader lamented that the anthem had not been arranged for male vocalists. His choir had therefore been unable to learn it. Another choral group in the area, Kuhač, had brought a torrent of criticism upon itself during a cultural

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visit to Poland. At a pan-Slavic cultural jamboree in that country, the hosts had invited them to sing the Yugoslav national anthem. In this case as well, the singers claimed ignorance. In the words of the police chief of Osijek, “only thanks to the presence and readiness of a Polish railway workers’ choral group, which had earlier stayed as guests and travelled for one year around our state, and had learned our anthem” was a complete fiasco averted. “Said Polish choral group sang our anthem, and the listeners /the majority/ [sic] did not even notice that the Poles were singing.”80

Enforcing Yugoslavism in the Home As noted earlier, the state security laws seriously infringed on the right to association. Even organizations that were legally registered had to notify local law enforcement officials in advance of the time and place of every meeting; they also had to permit police representatives to attend. Undercover officers or agents also attended such meetings, as well as university lectures and other public gatherings. Regarding the activities of former politicians, Prime Minister Živkovi� himself underscored the need to report on all movements of such individuals, as well as on meetings held in their private homes. Writing in October 1930, he noted with dismay that some of these meetings had gone unnoticed by local authorities. He called for increased vigilance and threatened less alert officials with immediate dismissal if such lapses happened again.81 Of course, citizens could try to circumvent surveillance by convening in small, informal groups at private residences. Yet even here they faced an uphill struggle, for such meetings were immediate grounds for suspicion. This was especially the case when civil servants attended such gatherings. In sum, even private residences did not remain outside the scope of the state’s enforcement and dissemination of Yugoslavism. One example demonstrates how persistent the state could be in such situations. In April 1930, the chief of Slunj District in Sava Banovina claimed proudly that everyone in the district “without exception” supported the regime with the “greatest satisfaction and enthusiasm.” This was especially true for “the peasant Croat part of the nation, for whom it can be correctly said that they have accepted [the regime] with greater satisfaction than have the Serb part of the nation in this region.” However, the report went on, “it is irrefutable that a small number of people

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unhappy with the current state of affairs, [but] for now without influence on their surroundings, have sunk into religious and tribal hatred.” In 1930, in the town of Slunj itself, the police noticed that a group of Croats – including several parish priests, a county clerk, a judge, and several current and former bureaucrats – were meeting regularly in private apartments. Moreover, they raised suspicion because they often “left and moved around in other places and outside the borders of this county.” Unfortunately for the authorities, it was impossible to monitor the meetings in these locales. “All attempts to infiltrate trusted persons into these ranks have remained without success, because this society does not tolerate anyone for whom it has the least reason to suspect that he is not trustworthy.”82 Given the apparent impossibility of “cracking” this discussion group, the district chief argued that more serious measures needed to be employed. The active civil servants attending the gatherings lacked “political and national consciousness,” and the younger members might therefore be suitably transferred “to any other place in the state, where the population is more national [nacionalnije].” The older ones could easily be retired, thereby reducing their potential to infect the community with their “separatism.” This would effectively eliminate the threat. Clearly, even small groups meeting privately were subject to state infiltration and surveillance. Severe de facto restrictions also existed on freedom of movement, since any comings or goings that the local authorities deemed excessive or unusual resulted in increased surveillance. Other documents in the former Yugoslav archives demonstrate that this example fits a pattern and does not stand as an isolated case.83

A Yugoslav Murder Mystery The atmosphere that prevailed during King Aleksandar’s dictatorship also affected criminal justice and the course of criminal investigations. Of particular interest to the state were crimes perpetrated across “tribal” lines – for example, the assault or murder of Serbs by Croats, or vice versa. Ideological and political concerns could and did often override routine criminal investigations in such cases. In the 1933 murder of the Croat Pavle Birti�, the authorities paid close attention to “tribal antagonism.” On 9 June 1933, the clerk of the township of Andrijevci, near Slavonski Brod in Sava Banovina, reported that Petar Rusi�, a Serb mason, had

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that day killed Pavle Birti�, a former president of the local branch of the Croat Peasant Party and a former township councillor, with a shot fired from a military carbine. The motive for the murder, which had occurred in the nearby village of Perkovci, was unknown, and the suspect had fled the scene.84 The district chief of Slavonski Brod, noting that “all signs point to political motives,” immediately ordered that the area be secured and that all houses be searched for weapons and ammunition.85 The fugitive quickly surrendered himself voluntarily to the police, and they interrogated him on 10 June. Petar Rusi�, who had moved to Perkovci only in 1927, explained that two months earlier, he had as a nacionalan čovjek (national person) joined the government party, the Jugoslovenska radničko seljačka demokracija (Yugoslav Radical-Peasant Democracy, or JRSD) along with eleven other individuals in the village.86 Around the same time, he had noticed that the local Roman Catholic priest, Ferdo Gerstner, was collecting a list of JRSD members in the village. From that moment on, Rusi� had allegedly lived in an atmosphere of constant threat and hatred. This only increased after Rusi� and his JRSD compatriots participated in an organizational party meeting in Andrijevci at the beginning of June. After bullets shattered the windows of his house while he was away at a JRSD meeting in Sarajevo, Rusi� began carrying a rifle, which he had obtained during the suppression of a peasant rebellion in 1925.87 According to the authorities’ report, on “the critical day of 9 June,” as Petar Rusi� walked to the train station in Perkovci, Pavle Birti� approached him and insulted him with the words “F–– your Serb mother, you’re going to hear from us, because you shot at your own house, and you yourself carried out this terror, and not we.” These words so “stung” Rusi� that he lost control and shot Birti�, but Rusi� stated that he “was not conscious of whether I hit him or in which part of the body.” Yet the crucial portion of the confession was still to come. Unburdening his soul to the police in Andrijevci, Rusi� accused Birti� and his clique of provoking the incident. Rusi� maintained that “all of this is a result of the provocations of priest Ferdo Gerstner,” who was disturbing the otherwise harmonious atmosphere in Perkovci. Whether done consciously and disingenuously or out of a solid conviction that his political enemies were “terrorizing” him, the confession given by Rusi� changed the focus of the investigation. From that point on, the authorities showed much greater interest in detailing the hostile political activities of the deceased Pavle Birti� and his associates such as Gerstner than in trying and punishing the confessed murderer Petar

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Rusi�. Indeed, on the very same day that Rusi� confessed, the chief of the district of Slavonski Brod issued an order noting that the killing had increased the threat posed to peace and order by the “unfriendly disposition of individuals agreeing with the deceased against all adherents of the current regime and nationally loyal and conscious persons.”88 A local teacher, Stjepan Baumstark, told the police that Gerstner had stirred hatred between Croats and Serbs and that he had incited girls to sing the forbidden Croatian hymn “Lijepa naša domovino” (Our Beautiful Homeland). Baumstark grouped Gerstner with locals who “belong to the extreme elements or, respectively, the dissatisfied.” In Baumstark’s opinion, Gerstner was a ringleader for Croat nationalists in the village. He feared Gerstner’s wrath so much that he had refused to approach the police with his concerns at an earlier point. If Gerstner’s group killed him in revenge for the killing of Birti�, Baumstark said, that would be “nothing new” in the violent annals of Perkovci.89 Although Baumstark later retracted his remarks, his fears gave the police another pretext to increase their presence in Perkovci. The authorities even welcomed the opportunity for a showdown with the disaffected Croats of Perkovci.90 In the meantime, the police reported that people were “constantly” coming to them, fearing for their lives. An informant told the police that, at the autopsy of Birti� on 10 June, Ilija Grgi�, a ploughman, had allegedly said: My dear brother Croats, have you seen what the bloodsucking Vlachs are doing to us Croats? You know that the Vlach bloodsucker [Puniša] Račić execute[d] our dear Radić and four more Croat souls. They were not satisfied with that, so they therefore continued anew with such work, i.e. with the killing of us Croats … Brothers, we need to agree to clean [i.e. eliminate] the freaks who are in the JRSD party … We need to bombard them as well as those who are Vlach followers.

To make matters worse, Grgi� had allegedly praised Mač ek and Pernar and then yelled, “F–– your Vlach mother! Let them kill Croats, but they will not kill the Croat soul!” In response to this, the police raided Perkovci on 1 June, arresting Gerstner, Grgi�, and three others. In the course of the raid, the gendarmes uncovered sixteen firearms. Even though permits for these weapons had been obtained, they were confiscated.91 At least one of the suspects, Grgi�, readily admitted that he had spoken out against injustice on the way to Birti�’s funeral. Yet he claimed

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he had also told the police and the judge present at the funeral that “I am not insulting anyone, nor am I teasing the authorities, but you see how [the murderer] killed an innocent person and sought to kill me.” Grgi� further claimed that “Vlach” was not a hateful term but a commonplace one and that it was used as such among all villagers. “So as far as that is concerned, neither the claim of the gendarmerie nor of our political opponents stands, [i.e.,] that I and my friends employed the word ‘Vlach’ as an affront to our Orthodox, respectively Serb, brothers, with whom we have until now always lived in peace and in harmony. And Petar Rusi� was especially loved by all inhabitants of the village, and we all dropped by his place for his slava (patron saint’s day), and he visited us Catholics on our holy days.” Furthermore, given that the police had not arrested him for making these statements, he stood certain of his innocence. Regarding Gerstner, Grgi� said he had tried to calm people down and prevent them from taking vengeful actions. “It did not even come to a point where anyone would have said anything in the sense of raising hatred or indisposition toward the Orthodox or, respectively, the Serb tribe.” Interestingly, Grgi� at the same time volunteered that “priest Gerstner never hid that he was of the Croat tribe. And he told us, as his parishioners, that we never needed to hide that we are of the Croat tribe, just as Serbs do not conceal, but rather express, that they are of the Serb tribe.”92 Demonstrating a probably high degree of collusion, the Croats questioned by the police all repeated these words almost verbatim. Grgi� ascribed the discontent in the village to political rather than ethnic or religious causes. He noted that some people felt they had been deceived by Rusi� into joining the JRSD.93 Yet if he followed the local press, he must have known that the JRSD enjoyed the government’s full backing. Undaunted – or wilfully “ignorant” of this – Grgi� argued that “since 1929 we have ceased every political dealing and interest for politics, so since that day [6 January 1929] we join neither any political party nor political organization.” No one, however, had thought to discriminate against Rusi� just because he had joined the party. Indeed, Grgi� was certain that someone, perhaps a man named Pavle Beni�, had put Rusi� up to killing Birti�. Even the shooting out of the windows of Rusi�’s house had been staged by Rusi� and his JRSD colleagues. As for Baumstark’s fears, Grgi� complained that because of “the mental illness of the village teacher we suffer and are persecuted by the authorities.”94 The merchant Ivan Beni� seconded this assessment, describing Birti� as a peaceful man who, although a “zealous

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Radi�ist” before 1929, had “after the manifesto of 1929 left … all politics and almost did not even speak about politics with anyone, because he became fearful and always said that he was not going to lose more of his life in prisons.”95 Of all the individuals questioned by the police, perhaps the feistiest was another ploughman, Andrija Oreškovi�. While corroborating the testimony of Grgi�, Beni�, and others, Oreškovi� lashed out at those who had informed the authorities about alleged anti-regime activities in Perkovci. He emulated the tactics of the others in pointing out that, if the people assembled to mourn Birti� at the funeral had really committed nationalist outrages, then it surely would have behooved the police present to arrest them. He said this almost gleefully. He claimed that he had not spoken to the assembled people, and he called the accusations malicious and false. Moreover, he argued that police from the Andrijevci station had been present. Therefore, “had I and Grgi� said that which the denunciation alleges, then it would have been their first duty as public organs to interrupt and arrest us on the spot. And insofar as they did not do this, they are neither worthy nor deserving of the service which they are fulfilling, nor of the uniforms which they wear, because they are not protecting the interest of the state authorities, which they serve.”96 Certainly, other witnesses held different views. Dr Josip Rucner, a judge at the district court in Slavonski Brod, recounted how he had met a hostile crowd when he came to supervise the mandatory autopsy. He alleged that Grgi� had approached him and told him that a “thief and a worthless person” had killed Pavle Birti�, but that the assailant would fare like Puniša Rači�, who, Grgi� told him, “had killed Stjepan Radi� and Co., and now lives nicely somewhere.” Rucner professed horror that anyone could harbour such a profound lack of trust in the judiciary and the rule of law. Yet he firmly rejected the notion that anyone in the assembled crowd had made inflammatory speeches – as a strict judge, he would have allowed no such manifestation.97 Another official present at the autopsy, district health clerk Dr Eduard Hrdlička, concurred with this assessment.98 The testimony of Hrdlička and Rucner severely weakened the case the police were trying to build against the group around Grgi� and Gerstner. When even the local chairman of the JRSD, Mijo Funari�, denied that threats had been made, it seemed that the investigation had reached a dead end. But the police did not give up so easily. They obtained a statement from Lovro Zmai�, the seoski knez (village elder) and

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vice-president of the local branch of the JRSD, to the effect that the priest Gerstner had provided Croats with a place to meet and vent when such gatherings were forbidden in public. The local JRSD members persisted in identifying Gerstner as being anti-JRSD, one of them noting that Gerstner had forbidden a JRSD member’s daughter from sitting in the front pew of the church simply because of her father’s political affiliation. Yet even Zmaić denied that Gerstner had made any political speeches or had engaged in political agitation.99 Zmaić and the other JRSD members maintained that the “hostility” of the locals towards the party did not “exceed the limit of tolerance” and that there was therefore no need to maintain a permanent police outpost in Perkovci. In the event, both sides in the conflict wanted to resolve the matter in a way that would not result in a permanent police presence. Thus, that same day, 18 June 1933, seventy-eight najbolji gospodari (roughly, “the wealthiest peasants”) from Perkovci delivered a declaration to the village authorities. In it, they offered a “moral and material” guarantee “that is with our own lives and our entire movable and stationary belongings, for order and peace in the village Perkovci in the township of Andrijevci.” They explicitly promised to prevent “any kind of anti-state work whatsoever.” From their “political opponents,” the local members of the JRSD, they had sought and received a reciprocal promise.100 The authorities expressed satisfaction with this solution. They released those imprisoned for weapons possession, but they also insisted, in accordance with the Public Security Law, that the people of Perkovci reimburse the police for the funds spent on heightened patrols.101 Moreover, the individuals released from custody were forbidden to gather publicly or privately.102 There is no indication in the dossier that Petar Rusić was ever tried or sentenced for the murder. The Perkovci murder of June 1933 provides an excellent illustration of many social and political phenomena during the dictatorship of King Aleksandar. What began as a rather straightforward investigation evolved rapidly into an inquiry into the political “health” of an entire village. Alleged political statements by friends and colleagues of the deceased, rather than the murder itself, became the focal point of the investigation. Statements made by the villagers during the investigation offer fascinating insight into the mentality of the time and show clearly how the language of the regime’s ideology had permeated daily life. Of particular interest is that the Croats in the village tended to explain their expressions of Croat identity as acceptable “tribal” selflabelling. Spurred by the priest Gerstner, the Croats believed they had

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done nothing wrong in praising the late Pavle Birtić as a “Croat,” just as they would not have protested similar statements by members of the Serb “tribe.” From the Croats’ perspective, there could be nothing wrong with expressing pride in one’s “tribe,” especially when the authorities allowed the Serbs to do the same. Regarding the JRSD, it seems clear that the Croats of Perkovci overwhelmingly viewed it as an alien and unwelcome intrusion. Yet instead of attacking the JRSD’s politics, they attacked its methods and mission, and they did so using the language of the regime. Specifically, they all assailed the JRSD for violating the “apolitical” atmosphere they had constructed after January 1929. They resented the charges of separatism and Croat nationalism levelled at them by the local authorities. Ultimately, they were exonerated by their political “opponents” in the local JRSD, who conceded that although the Croats disliked them, they did not threaten them. The JRSD’s involvement, and the allegations of HSS sponsorship of Croat dissent, also illustrate the relevance of national politics to local village life. Although the local authorities accepted the agreement that the two main village factions had reached, they remained suspicious about the intentions of the local Croat population. They must have been unnerved by the closed front presented by the Croats who had been interrogated. They also suspected a connection between the defunct (but in fact still active) HSS and the village priest.103 For this reason, the district chief of Slavonski Brod and the police, while bowing to the villagers’ demand that police patrols be reduced again, expressed their intention to monitor Gerstner and other suspected individuals more closely.

Patrolling the Yugoslav Borderlands For obvious reasons, Yugoslavs residing near the national borders came under even more scrutiny and surveillance than those living nearer the country’s centre. Yugoslavia had long and complicated borders, so a very large area was affected by this. Acutely aware of the dangers presented by Austrian (Habsburg), Hungarian, Italian, and Bulgarian irredentism, and deeply suspicious of the intentions of even weak Albania, the Yugoslav authorities were constantly on guard against traitors and collaborators. In the border areas, military intelligence units and border patrols worked closely with the police and the local civil service (mayors, assorted bureaucrats, teachers, etc.) to identify suspicious persons.

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Having come under suspicion, these individuals were either arrested or internally exiled to less sensitive areas. The police in border areas paid special attention to people’s movements. All who frequented the borderlands were suspect and needed to be monitored. In Croatia alone, the prosecutor’s office employed fifty detectives to surveil trains travelling to and from border stations; twelve more detectives were assigned to watch travellers at the Zagreb railway stations.104 To be sure, this mentality was not a product of the dictatorship – it was present throughout the interwar years. Thus, for example, in April 1928 the Army and Navy Ministry forwarded a list of suspect civil servants to the Minister of Justice with the request that they be relocated “to any other place in pre-war Serbia, as far as possible from the Bulgarian border, so that they will in the future not have an opportunity to work and maintain relations with disruptive elements. With their departure from Southern Serbia much would be gained with regards to the national training [nacionalno podizanje] of the populace there and with regards to the prevention of agitation for the benefit of our enemies.”105 But like all such policies, surveillance in the borderlands took on a new colour and vigour after January, once it was coupled with integral Yugoslavism. The archives of the Ministry of Education provide a particularly interesting case of border surveillance from Drava Banovina in 1932 – one that provides insight into the “entire chain of command” in a surveillance case. Here we will focus on some of the teachers discussed in a police report on suspicious civil servants. In the spring of 1932, an army border patrol and the local police reported to the commander of the army’s Drava Division about the presence of unreliable teachers in villages near the Austrian border. The first teacher mentioned in the report, Alfonz Kopriva, had caught the eye of the authorities because of his frequent trips across the border to attend church in Austria. And this was not the first time that he had courted trouble. “In addition to [his] suspicious national and political honesty, the moral side of teacher Kopriva also is not much better. Said individual has been cited by the district court in Prevalje for moral misconduct with his students. His respective superiors know about this, but instead of holding him strictly responsible and removing him from this exposed place [i.e. the border area], they have acted contrarily, and have taken measures for him to be freed by the court as innocent, so that the teachers’ cadre will not be compromised.”106

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A second teacher, Karl Doberšek, allegedly dabbled in communism. His case is of particular interest because he had earlier participated in the Sokol movement. Doberšek had tried to pursue his anti-state activities within the local Sokol troop, which greatly frustrated the local authorities. Thus, we read the following: “In 1930, a circular of the Ministry of Education invited all teachers to become members of the Sokol movement and help their work. On the basis of this circular, Doberšek sent the Sokol in Prevalje a request for membership with the following words: ‘By order of the Ministry of Education, I report as a member of the Sokol society.’” Apparently, the authorities could not tolerate that someone would dare destroy the aura of “voluntary” membership in the Sokol movement. Unfortunately for them, though, these suspicious teachers “are in this respect very careful, and their entire work is very refined. Even given the greatest attention [to this matter] we have until now not been able to arrive at concrete evidence which we might be able to use to demonstrate guilt legally before a court.”107 In the midst of all these nefarious teachers, a bright light shone for the state. In the same report, the police wrote about an especially “good teacher,” Adam Srdoč. The police highlighted Srdoč’s status as a veteran of the Serbian Army in the First World War and characterized him as “a very honourable and sincere national worker [nacionalan radnik].” Srdoč was “in general a soul of national thought and deed on this exposed border point.” Yet local Germans and Catholic “clericalists” had succeeded in ridding themselves of him “at any price.” The local police responded by pleading with the state authorities “to remove these suspicious and intolerable teachers from these exposed border areas in the interest of the State. And in their places bring and protect honest and reliable workers, such as teacher Srdoč in St. Ilje.”108 This case passed through virtually the entire state system, from the local police and army to the Army and Navy Ministry, which then handed the material to the Ministry of Education along with a request that the suspicious teachers be transferred. Despite this impressive amount of interagency communication and cooperation, the results showed the limits and inconsistency of the state security apparatus. In March 1933, the Ministry of Education intervened directly in the local school conflict, installing Srdoč as the new school administrator.109 By 1935, the authorities had succeeded in moving Kopriva first to Sava and then to Drava Banovina. By contrast, and to the horror of officials in the Ministry of Education, Doberšek, the wily teacher who had thumbed his nose at the Sokol movement, became a member of parliament.110

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Doberšek’s case demonstrates the occasional limits of persecution. The Yugoslav authorities, keen to preserve at least the façade of justice and objectivity, had made a strong effort to collect evidence that could be used “to demonstrate guilt legally.” Yet in the vast majority of everyday cases found in the archives, the judicial aspect did not come into play. The legal system of the time granted local district and police chiefs the right to levy fines – for the impoverished peasantry, crippling ones – without a judicial proceeding.111 This case demonstrates how surveillance functioned in terms of security, communist activities, and integral Yugoslavism. We can also see who were considered “good” or “bad” teachers, as well as the role that “good teachers” were expected to play in thwarting “internal and external enemies.” It is not coincidental that the teacher receiving the highest accolades from the security services was the one who, as a veteran of the Salonika Front, had clear links to Serbia.

Denouncing Internal Enemies In every society, some people abuse the tools of power in order to settle scores with personal enemies. During the dictatorship of King Aleksandar, the regime appeared to be inviting its citizens to take an active role in fighting internal enemies. Echoing the king’s own clarion words about eliminating intermediaries, Prime Minister Živković announced in August 1930 that “every one who wants to help the King and the government is welcome, he will begin to work and he will be taken into account. Accounts will also be kept about everyone who interferes with this work.”112 At the regional and local levels, officials made similar statements. The surveillance apparatus in Yugoslavia after 1929 offered people a tempting weapon for denouncing others, and many of them did not hesitate to use it. In a significant number of cases, people who wrote to Belgrade demanding action against corrupt or incompetent bureaucrats specifically cited the Royal Manifesto and the date of 6 January 1929 in their arguments.113 Often, though, people submitted denunciations to the government not out of ideological conviction or loyalty to the regime but in order to denounce personal enemies.114 The case of the Slovene teachers cited above demonstrated that the Yugoslav authorities treated ideological deviance in the educational system as a serious matter. Since politics had officially ceased to exist after 6 January, teachers and other civil servants faced investigation

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if they engaged in any kind of political activity. “Political” meant, in effect, anything at odds with the regime’s goals. The authorities took such charges especially seriously if the politics in question related to “tribal” parties such as the HSS and the JMO. The preserved records of the confidential section of the Ministry of Education make it clear that an enormous effort was made to monitor the “national” (i.e., political) work required of teachers. According to Ivana Dobrivojević, “passivity, lassitude, lethargy and inactivity were not excused.”115 Besides the Ministry of Education, the Ministry of Internal Affairs – including the minister personally – devoted relentless attention to teachers deemed insufficiently dedicated to the national, Yugoslav education of their charges. The case material, and especially the records of police interrogations, provide further evidence of how Yugoslavism was integrated into the everyday language of the Yugoslav citizenry. It also shows the degree to which citizens, influenced by state propaganda, reified the date of the Royal Manifesto. A case of this kind typically began with a letter from the Ministry of Education to the banovina administration stating that the ministry “had learned” that a particular teacher or teachers were engaged in illicit activities. This might involve a straightforward denunciation or a petition for the transfer of the “bad” teacher and the installation of a new, “consciously Yugoslav” teacher.116 Only rarely did the ministry mention the source of its information. However, it frequently emerged in the course of the investigation – either in the letters of local officials or in the statements of the accused – that one or more individuals had filed a denunciation with the ministry. As soon as the ministry’s letter arrived at the banovina level, the banovina administration immediately sought a full report on the charges from local school and government officials. This information consisted largely of statements by school administrators and local officials regarding the standing and reputation of the accused, along with transcripts of the police interrogations of the suspects. An illuminating case of this type is that of Mateja Tucakov, an elementary schoolteacher in Bački Breg near the Hungarian border in Danube Banovina. A former HSS member, Tucakov was accused in September 1930 of engaging in “partisanship” (i.e., party politics) and thereby sowing discord and divisions among the locals. His supposed aim in doing so was to work against Yugoslav state interests.117 During the interrogation, Tucakov denied any involvement in politics. Referring to himself as a “Yugoslav,” he claimed he would like nothing better

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than to see a consolidation of the acts of 6 January and 3 October 1929 so that “peace and love” would rule. He referred to the two years he had spent as a teacher in “Southern Serbia.” Now, as the secretary of the Sokol Society in Bački Breg, he “energetically” worked for the “idea of State and National unity.” Calling the charges against him baseless, he turned the tables against his anonymous accuser, whom he said he knew. “The informer of course wanted in this way to cover up his ulterior intentions, because he could in no way agree with the current state of affairs. And thus, all those who work for the consolidation of the state are anti-sympathetic [sic] to him.”118 Based on this testimony and that of his boss, who described Tucakov as “enthused about the unity [of Yugoslavia],” the state dropped its case against him.119 In the opinion of the district school inspector in Sombor, “if one also takes into consideration that Mr. Tucakov belonged to the Croat Peasant Party before 6 January 1929 … then it is a great gain that the present regime has created a sincere Yugoslav and enthusiastic nationalist out of him, who works in the school and among the people for national unity.”120 As noted earlier in this chapter, inquiries into the reliability of teachers and other civil servants were not restricted to the suspect’s conduct on the job. The authorities also sought information on their private lives. One ill-considered comment made within earshot of the police or of a vigilant (or resentful) citizen could quickly generate an avalanche of investigative activity. Trapped in this quandary, many of the accused either denied making the comment in question or claimed they had been extremely drunk – an altogether plausible excuse, given the enormous quantities of rakija (brandy) consumed by the average person in the interwar period. Of interest to this study, however, are the numerous instances, such as that of Tucakov, in which the accused defended themselves by claiming to be, in effect, more Yugoslav than the accusers. For it is in these many cases that it becomes most readily apparent how citizens absorbed the Yugoslav ideology. The case of Gjuro Čaić, an elementary school teacher in Jamovica near Novska in Sava Banovina, illustrates how easily a citizen could be caught in the web of a full state investigation. According to a police informer, on the evening of 28 October 1932, Čaić had in a tavern allegedly yelled “long live Croatia and then he added the following speech: Brother Croats, let us agree to preserve our small Croatia, because we are not in Yugoslavia but rather in Croatia.” According to the documents presented at Čaić’s arraignment, shocked bystanders had

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immediately told him to be quiet because he might be arrested for saying such things.121 In his defence, Čaić denied making the comments; he then took the offensive. “And as concerns the statement of teacher Gjuroković, that I in my toast several times emphasized that only a good Croat can be a good Yugoslav, this relates to a conversation between me and [another teacher] Lukež … Lukež then claimed that he was a better Yugoslav than I, which I disputed.”122 Although the State Court for the Protection of the State dismissed the case for lack of evidence, the district chief found sufficient grounds to discipline Čaić. The district chief noted that Čaić had some positive qualifications. He had served as a reserve officer, had received a royal medal, and had taken part in the September 1930 ceremony in which King Aleksandar bestowed new flags on the army. But as a teacher, Čaić left much to be desired. Čaić, a former HSS member, no longer engaged in politics. His stance was “loyal, but passive,” and he showed a high propensity for conflict and for stupid remarks, especially when drunk.123 Nearly a year after the incident in the tavern, Čaić once again stood accused, this time of asking his fellow villagers to abstain from voting in the October 1933 local elections.124 Because of a series of very minor incidents, Čaić’s case kept bouncing back and forth among Novska, Zagreb, and Belgrade for almost three years.125 Čaić and Tucakov had found themselves accused of uttering seditious thoughts and thus of actively resisting the Yugoslav state and its ideology. But during the dictatorship, citizens could also easily find themselves denounced for passive resistance. Here it will suffice to mention one case, that of Emilija Vučevac, a teacher in Cerna in Drina Banovina. Vučevac came under suspicion because “rumours” in the village had it that on the “historical day of National Unification,” 1 December, she had remained seated while others “enthusiastically” leapt to their feet shouting “Long Live His Majesty King Aleksandar,” “Long Live the Royal House,” and “Long Live Yugoslavia.”126 Vučevac was docked three days’ salary even though only two of the seven elementary school students interrogated by the authorities claimed they had seen her sitting at the rally.127 More importantly perhaps, with her conviction, Vučevac now had to live with a blemished legal record. The internal ambiguities of Yugoslavism offered would-be denouncers additional chances to make mischief. To launch an investigation, one had only to question a colleague’s ideological reliability or accuse him or her of “tribal intolerance.” However, there is documentary evidence that the authorities were aware of such abuses and that at least

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sometimes they acted to defuse false denunciations.128 For instance, in the town of Vrbovsko in Sava Banovina, the district chief complained that too much was being made of a personal conflict in the nearby town of Bosiljevo simply because one of the parties to the dispute was a Serb and the other a Croat. “The township treasurer in Bosiljevo, Milan Dokmanović, using all possible means in [his] personal struggle against township clerk Ropar, knew how to gain the sympathy of the organs of the gendarmerie station at Bosiljevo. Thus, he presented his personal conflict to them as the struggle of Croat separatists versus a Serbnationalist [sic].”129 On closer investigation by the police, it emerged that Ropar, although he came from Bosiljevo, where “90% of the population is politically oriented in the direction of Croat separatism,” had “shown himself … always as a conscious Yugoslav.”130 Finally, let us examine how humour was used as a form of rhetorical resistance. The archives of the period indicate that humour often surfaced in encounters between the state and ordinary citizens. More often than not, people seasoned their jokes or rhymes with curses and vulgarities. Predictably, the state viewed these outbursts as anything but funny and invariably opened a full investigation. Yet for the historian, jokes about the government help complete the portrait of the dictatorship as drawn in the popular mind. So it is revealing, for example, to read the quip made by the schoolteacher Jakša Vidić in 1931 to peasants in Bitola in Vardar Banovina. In the tale, a hodža (Muslim priest) visits King Aleksandar in Belgrade and tells him he knows what the king dreamed the night before. The king claims to not have dreamed at all, but the hodža persists. “Emperor [sic], last night you dreamt of three jackasses: a thin one, a fat one, and a blind one. The thin jackass is your people, the fat jackass is your bureaucrats and officers, and the blind one is His Majesty the King.” Unfortunately for Vidić, he had told the joke in the company not only of peasants but also of a visiting policeman, who immediately reported the case of lese-majesty.131 Read, however, in the context of the “good tsar myth,” it exemplifies the image of a naive or ignorant king and his suffering people at the mercy of the selfish bureaucracy, police, and army. Archival documents generally show that denunciations were most commonly made for crimes such as singing tribal songs, displaying tribal symbols, and lese-majesty. The archives in Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Serbia hold thousands of such cases, indicating that denunciations were frequent during the dictatorship. From these materials, it is also clear that Yugoslav citizens were aware they inhabited

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a society under stringent surveillance. In each case, the authorities did their meticulous best to gather the details and to prosecute as far as the law would permit. Note, however, that on the local level, the authorities also showed admirable zeal in locating and prosecuting the authors of false denunciations, even when the denunciation could have helped them attack suspected opponents of the regime.132 At least in this respect, the dictatorship compiled a respectable track record. However, the authorities did not heed the demands made by some members of the Yugoslav Teachers’ Association to brand as false all anonymous denunciations made against teachers.133 At least in theory, the regime tried to pressure all teachers to proselytize Yugoslav ideology.134 In this regard, the authorities showed particular vigilance in “nationally sensitive” areas of the country such as the Bulgarian–Serbian border region. Likewise, areas inhabited by Croats were a perennial ideological battleground. Yet the archives also reveal the regime’s concern with cases such as that of Božidar Janković, a Serb from the village of Batinac in Morava Banovina. When Janković adamantly refused to join the regime’s official party in 1933, the Ministry of Education demanded the immediate removal of this “anational and unsuitable teacher.”135 Notwithstanding the overlapping foundations of integral Yugoslavism and Serbdom, this Serb teacher from the Serb heartland found himself subjected to the same repressive measures as his recalcitrant Croat, Slovene, and Muslim colleagues.

The Lovelorn Turncoat: Double Agents and Disinformation in the Fight against Separatism As shown earlier in this chapter, the Yugoslav government had a huge hunger for information about “the mood of the people” and went to extraordinary lengths to assuage it. Besides generating a constant stream of reports on this topic, authorities resorted to what would later become known in the US military as “psychological operations.” Yugoslavs were regularly “inoculated” with massive doses of pro-government propaganda; in addition, some received extraordinary “pre-emptive” attention. In one important case from 1933, the authorities resorted to counterpropaganda against the Ustaša movement.136 Specifically, they sponsored a pamphlet titled Tajne emigrantskih zločinaca: Ispovijest Jelke Pogorelec (The Secrets of the Émigré Criminals: The Confession of Jelka Pogorelec), based on an article published in October of that year in the Zagreb newspaper Novosti. Jelka (Jelena) Pogorelec was the lover of a

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Ustaša leader named Gustav Perčec. In July 1929, the Yugoslav government had condemned Perčec, as well as the Ustaša poglavnik (leader) Ante Pavelić, to death in absentia. The Yugoslav police, under their principal anti-Ustaša agent, Vladeta Milićević, had succeeded in “turning” Jelka Pogorelec in 1932.137 Her case neatly combined denunciations and surveillance. The pamphlet’s cover promised to tell all about “Gustav Perčec and others, who at Janka Puszta work in foreign service against their own homeland.” The pathetically melodramatic introduction spoke of an innocent young woman who had believed the “promises” made to her by Perčec but who had grown disillusioned with his project. “She hoped for the nice and peaceful life of a respectable woman, full of mutual trust and respect. However, learning gradually about all the misdeeds of her fiancé, she soon after going abroad began to realize with horror that the man whom she had chosen among all others was a born criminal of inferior character, everyone’s spy, a dirty Gypsy, who sells himself to anyone.”138 Pogorelec’s exposé began with a handwritten confession of her sins. Briefly describing her tumultuous involvement with Perčec and his gang, she wrote that she had been shocked to discover the scene at the Ustaša training camps at Janka Puszta (Croatian: Janka Pusta), near Nagykanisza in southern Hungary. She concluded on a powerfully evocative note: Now, after all of the events and spectacles which I have experienced, I have come to the conviction that it is my duty to point to the work of the so-called “liberators” of Croatia, because I believe that by doing so I will most help above all the Croats [da ću ovako radeći najviše pomoći baš Hrvatima] and prevent many of them from naively following Perčec and Pavelić, giving them trust and believing their lying promises. Because when the masks are stripped from these two, they remain common agents of Italy and Hungary, who promise on the one hand liberation from some slavery, while on the other hand preparing real slavery for them, signing for every million in [financial] help new promises to Italy and Hungary.139

Pogorelec accused Perčec and Pavelić of standing behind some of the most dramatic crimes committed during the dictatorship, including the March 1929 killing of Toni Schlegel and the August 1933 assassination of former Minister without Portfolio Mirko Najdorfer (Neudorfer). These “Judases of Yugoslavia” had innocent blood on their hands.

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The pamphlet sought to raise awareness in Yugoslavia of the crimes committed by the Ustaša, who were often, Pogorelec said, naively glorified by Croats like herself. Most of all, now, “on the way to America,” she hoped to divert other stray sheep from the dark path of Perčec and Pavelić. Speaking to supporters of the Ustaša within Yugoslavia, she explained that “I nonetheless do not seek to ruin most of the people mentioned … so I implore them to come to their senses, and to start down the right path. Because if this is not the case, I will, defending my own state against wretches [bijednici], have to publish another part [of my revelations] and in this way prevent them from continuing to spill blood and seduce victims.” With these fierce words, she explicitly threatened to publicize the names of Ustaša supporters in Yugoslavia that she had obtained from Perčec. In the meantime, she had opened herself to the revelation that “the best solution is Yugoslavia and to be a good Yugoslav, because only as such can I also be an excellent Croat. Thus, I want to proceed in this direction.”140 In November 1933, once Pogorelec’s pamphlet had been printed in Zagreb, the Ministry of Internal Affairs in Belgrade ordered the distribution of 9,500 copies of it throughout Yugoslavia, especially in Croatpopulated areas. The order for this was issued with the highest level of confidentiality – “strogo povjerljivo na ličnost” (essentially “for your eyes only”) – to the police and the banovina administrators.141 The cover letter accompanying each pamphlet contrasted the suffering of Croat volunteers at Janka Puszta with the luxurious lifestyle of the traitors Perčec and Pavelić. The objective of the government’s action was clear. In a directive distributed to district and local police chiefs in Sava Banovina, the ban ordered that in order to achieve the largest and strongest effect possible with regards to our general national strengthening and course – deliver the greater part of these [brochures], one per person, to the personal addresses of all the most fanatical and most distinguished separatists and their sympathizers on [your] territory there; distribute the smaller part of the brochures to our distinguished national public workers from your area, so that they might acquaint themselves with the content of this brochure and [thus] parry as effectively as possible and with the documented facts from the brochure battle against and wipe out the separatist and destructive action … You must, by 20 December 1933, submit a report on the fulfillment of this as well as on the observed effect which this brochure will produce, and

Surveillance, Denunciations, and Ideology in Daily Life  201 on other observations related to it. Under the letter “A” you will provide the names of the separatists, and under the letter “B” the names of the national people [imena nacionalnih ljudi], to whom you sent or gave the brochure, as well as their place of residence.142

The government also sought to distribute the pamphlets “discreetly” to “compatriots” on Hungarian territory. And it required local and district authorities to report to the banovina administration on the popular response to it. The banovina administration would then compile an aggregate report and submit this to the Ministry of Internal Affairs. The Section for State Protection of the Sava Banovina administration submitted its summary report on 1 February 1934.143 All districts reported that the population had taken an active interest in the pamphlets. In Slavonski Brod, the brochure was read “with interest” and had the welcome effect of moving the “undecided” closer to the government position. Most districts remarked that even the separatists had professed disgust with the activities of their colleagues abroad. However, others, such as the district chief of Čabar, reported that “no effect is yet visible on the separatists.” Behind the scenes, Pogorelec’s desire “to confess” was hardly borne of a guilty conscience. Nor was she on the way to the United States. Rather, she was at the mercy of the Yugoslav authorities. Although the pamphlet contained a photo of her handwritten confession, the language used in it casts great doubt on its spontaneity. The biblical language of traitorous “Judases” selling out the Croatian interests to fiendish Hungarians and Italians would doubtlessly have played well with a largely peasant audience. The stark images of Ustaša leaders living in luxury and beating hapless Croat “émigré volunteers” who had to survive on subsistence diets would have inspired second thoughts among even the poorest and most discontented Croat peasant still in Yugoslavia, dreaming about emigration. And how convenient for the government that her confession ended with a rousing declaration that only a good Yugoslav could be a good Croat. Pogorelec’s pamphlet was one of the more ambitious sorties launched by the Yugoslav government, and one of the most successful. It sowed discontent in the already fractious Ustaša movement, offered evidence of Hungarian and Italian irredentism and its Croatian links, and pulled off a domestic and international propaganda coup.144 Yet in the broader context of the “Croat question,” it was a Pyrrhic victory.

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Conclusion The interwar Yugoslav state devoted many resources and a great deal of manpower to surveillance operations; however, one should not confuse these with modern intelligence and counterintelligence operations. In many if not most cases, the individuals knew they were under surveillance, and the analytical and investigative techniques employed by the police were primitive. Files and dossiers went missing or were misplaced.145 Cases fell dormant for years, only to be reactivated without rhyme or reason. In general, the authorities made little effort to develop and refine their surveillance techniques. Ignorant and prejudiced local authorities were drafted to assist in many operations, often with tragicomic results.146 Generally speaking, the level of competence left much to be desired, although this did not usually make the experience of contact with a repressive state any more pleasant for ordinary people.147 Finally, not even the state could escape the effects of economic depression, which was squeezing the budgets of all government ministries and agencies. One is reminded of what the Austrian writer Karl Kraus memorably called “absolutism mitigated by Schlamperei.”148 In considering surveillance and denunciations, one must entertain the possibility that the police and other state agents vastly exaggerated the discontent in the country. Theoretically, claiming a high degree of local unrest could attract additional resources from the centre – an attractive proposition in a time of great economic need. Certainly, some anecdotes in this chapter do point to a nearly hysterical attitude on the part of the authorities.149 Yet exaggerations of discontent should not lead us to assume that peace reigned. Overestimating local dissatisfaction could just as easily have negative consequences for the local authorities, who could face accusations of inefficiency and laxness from the centre. Also, the existence of “hidden transcripts” among peasants would have meant that a large number of cases of opposition or resistance went undetected. In other words, it can be argued that the situation must have been at least as bad if not worse than described, since people would have known they had to conceal their discontent. Furthermore, most local officials, although prone to treating individual malcontents as manifestations of some hidden “clericalism,” “Frankism,” or other conspiracy, generally seemed to take pains to mimic the regime’s official claims of a populace that lived contentedly and that enthusiastically greeted every government proclamation. Based on this logic and on what we know of how

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Yugoslavia evolved after the dictatorship ended, it is much more probable that the authorities significantly underestimated the disquietude. Moreover, the sheer number of cases with similar features hints that these were not isolated acts of resistance. As illustrated by the discussion of Yugoslav ideology in chapter 3, King Aleksandar’s dictatorship was not totalitarian; by this is meant that it was open to multiple (positive) interpretations and that there was at no time one completely homogenous government line. Unlike in the Soviet Union or Nazi Germany, no single figure or group of figures kept a hegemonic grip on the state ideology, and no ideologically motivated purges of factions within the Yugoslav regime took place. These observations notwithstanding, one should not underestimate the extent or oppressiveness of surveillance in the Yugoslav state. A multilayered surveillance apparatus worked hard to devise ever more precise ways of divining what the population “really” thought about Yugoslav ideology. The CPB correspondents acted as the regime’s eyes and ears, augmenting MUP and the state security division of each banovina. Thus, there were three layers of surveillance, in addition to which every bureaucrat – indeed every citizen – was expected to report suspicious activity. A fourth layer of surveillance, local military officers, can be said to have existed as well, as they often received or made denunciations on “subversive” behaviour in their districts. The fact that military officials felt free to submit reports on non-military matters such as cultural organizations attests to the growth of militarism.150 Moreover, as will be seen in chapter 5, the Yugoslav authorities occasionally looked abroad to fascist states in Europe and sought to adopt these states’ models of social and political control. During the dictatorship, Yugoslavs faced countless restrictions on their personal liberty. This was most pronounced in the non-Serb areas, where the police were vigilant against signs of “tribal” sympathies. Finally, it should not be forgotten that the security personnel who enforced the regime’s draconian laws came from a cadre that had changed little since the “bad old days” of the 1920s. As the acting British Consul at Zagreb noted in January 1929, “the police and gendarmerie after their last 10-years rule are Radical-Serb and corrupt to the core.”151 In sum, an examination of the Yugoslav surveillance apparatus reveals a classic case of a weak state masquerading as a strong state. Through its domestic press and the foreign correspondents of the CPB, the Yugoslav state strove to project the image of a unified state. Behind the façade, however, the state felt so insecure that it could not let go

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unpunished even the smallest acts of resistance. In this environment, only a few courageous voices – such as that of Dragoljub Jovanović – questioned the purposes and costs of policing Yugoslavism. This would change at the beginning of 1932, when an emasculated parliament – but a parliament nonetheless – began to convene.

PART FOUR The Assassination of Aleksandar and the Strange Afterlife of His Dictatorship

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6  The Return of “Democracy”: September 1931–October 1934

The state is obligated to defend itself from traitors and high traitors [od izdajnika i veleizdajnika], yes be that even with Hitlerian means. Police report on suspected Ustaša members, quoted in Minister of Internal Affairs Živojin Lazić, writing to Minister of Justice Božidar Maksimović1

On 3 September 1931, the Yugoslav government announced without warning that King Aleksandar had granted a constitution. Despite the long-standing rumours of just such a change, the actual announcement came as something of a surprise, given that the police had until the very last minute punished anyone foolhardy enough to call for changes to the regime. Yet now the king and his government proudly announced that the country had passed its probationary test of the past thirty-two months with flying colours. The king, “true to His traditional democratic feelings and His Royal word,” had always promised that the regime introduced by his January 1929 Manifesto was temporary. Now, Yugoslavia, in the assessment of its supreme ruler, had matured to the point that it could return to “democracy.” The regime did everything possible to avoid any obvious suggestion that this was a reversal in course. The major propaganda organs, orchestrated as always by the Central Press Bureau, trumpeted the theme of continuity from 6 January to 3 October to 3 September. Upholding the ideals introduced with the Sixth of January Manifesto, the new constitution would ban any “formation of groups [grupisanje] on a religious, tribal, and regional basis. That is the only restriction of civil liberties. This is because any such formation of groups would hinder the application of the highest

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law for both the people and for the King, and that is national unity.” Besides confirming the division of the country into nine banovinas, the new constitution promoted the bans to the same bureaucratic rank held by royal ministers. To this was added a reconfirmation that the regime planned to extend “full” self-administration to the banovinas, although within the firm limits imposed by the paramount ideas of state and national unity.2 In virtually all aspects, the constitution of September 1931 affirmed rather than moderated the course the state had set since January 1929.3 “Yugoslavism” and state unity continued to be the highest goals of the state. Article Sixteen specified that “all schools must provide moral education and develop a consciousness about the state [državljanska svest] in the spirit of national unity and religious tolerance.” In the words of the ever faithful Politika, in its article 29 the Constitution states that the King is the champion of national unity and the state entirety, and the keeper of their [i.e. these] permanent interests. That is the most significant regulation of the new Constitution. The mission which history has dealt H. M. King Aleksandar has now entered into the new Constitution as a constitutional ordinance … This means that political life must develop freely as long as it does not leave the borders which the Constitution has given it in the interest of national unity and state entirety … In a word, everything must be brought into conformity with national unity and the state.4

All extant laws remained in effect except for the Zakon o kraljevskoj vlasti i o Vrhovnoj državnoj upravi” (Law on Royal Power and High State Administration) of 6 January 1929. It was replaced by Articles TwentyNine to Forty of the constitution, which defined the king’s role. The constitution of September 1931 nevertheless introduced several important institutional changes. It envisaged the re-establishment of the Skupština and the creation of a senate. By the end of the month, King Aleksandar had scheduled elections for the former for 8 November 1931. The new electoral rules had been designed supposedly to prevent the emergence of any “tribal” or religious groupings that might pervert the ideals of 6 January 1929; in practice, though, they blocked the establishment of any opposition party, or indeed of any second party at all.5 The electoral system for the new 306-member assembly provided for adult male Yugoslav citizens to vote by open oral ballot. To prevent “tribal” candidates from running, the candidates’ list had to

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show that it had the support of voters in all 306 electoral districts. Every candidate, to run for parliament, had to be on a government-approved national list. Article Fifty-Nine of the constitution reminded candidates that every member of parliament represented not just his district but the entire country. These candidates had to have collected two hundred signatures from their own district. All of this, of course, provided ample scope for the police and other authorities to block any potential moves by the opposition. The quasi-official explanation for this intricate system was that any party wishing to be represented in parliament had to fulfil “ideological” and “technical” requirements.6 As for the Senate, it would serve as the upper house in the new bicameral system. Its design, too, virtually excluded the possibility of opposition.7 The pliant banovina councils would elect half the senators; King Aleksandar would personally hand-pick the other half. Should all of these safeguards for royal power somehow simultaneously fail, the king had final resort to Article One Hundred Sixteen. In extraordinary situations – “war, mobilization, unrest and revolt” – it permitted the king to bypass completely all state institutions. Contemporary lawyers accurately referred to this article as the “little constitution.”8 The reintroduction of this putative parliamentary democracy changed little. Certainly, a few steps were taken to dismantle the police state apparatus that had emerged over the first two years of the dictatorship. Soon enough, the opposition began to stir and gradually gathered sufficient courage to confront the regime’s most egregious abuses. Moreover, even within the puppet parliament, voices began to be raised against the government and its ideology of integral Yugoslavism. Thus, although the system remained largely intact until the death of King Aleksandar, the intervening period brought both its creators and opponents a series of small surprises. Voting for Yugoslavism: The 1931 Parliamentary “Elections” The dictatorship of King Aleksandar portrayed the 1931 “elections” for the new Skupština as a golden opportunity for the “Yugoslav people” to show their profound gratitude and active support for the progress achieved since 6 January 1929. As discussed in chapter 4, the government of Prime Minister Živković had during the summer of 1930 begun to seriously consider forming a ruling party. Although he had shelved the plan, it remained an option, and it re-emerged with the proclamation of the September 1931 constitution. In corralling Yugoslav citizens

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into a new party, the regime clearly hoped to draw first and foremost on the “national workers” who had joined the Sokol movement, Adriatic Sentinel, and other “national associations.” The party’s local leaders were recruited from the boards of these associations and from the banovina councils. Meanwhile, at the end of September, Živković reshuffled his cabinet, but this, like his new preference for tailored suits instead of uniforms, was for appearances only. Almost as soon as the recruitment drive for the (as yet unnamed) government party had been launched, Živković and other officials in Belgrade realized they had acted too soon. Economic depression and more than two years of political paralysis had done little to whet the people’s appetite for one-party elections.9 Especially in Croatia, the regime’s new party experienced only marginally more success than had Karla Kovačević’s Yugoslav peasant movement. Predictably, instead of interpreting this correctly as a worrying sign that they lacked popular support, the hardliners in the Belgrade government convinced themselves that the people were still traumatized by the “parliamentary dictatorship” of the 1920s.10 In the absence of any party – official or otherwise – the government simply asked its citizens to “vote for Yugoslavia.” “The elections of 8 November will have historical significance: they will be a manifestation of the popular will to life, progress, as well as an expression of all conscious Yugoslavism.”11 Officials at all levels knew exactly what was expected of them. In the run-up to the elections, administrators told their subordinates in no uncertain terms that they must vote for the government list – the only approved list – on 8 November. The country’s opposition parties – which officially were still banned – all agreed that the dictatorship had failed and should be dismantled, but they disagreed fiercely on what should replace it. The main division, as it had been before 1929, remained between the federalist Croats and Slovenes on the one hand and the centralist Serbs on the other. Especially among the various factions of the Radical Party, the old temptation of secret negotiations with the Royal Court remained great, and King Aleksandar proved increasingly amenable to such talks. By contrast, the Croats, led by Vladko Maček, sought to secure an agreement on increased autonomy for Croat-inhabited areas before entertaining a political compromise with King Aleksandar. This presupposed either a reorganization or an elimination of the banovinas. Thus, it seemed that Maček still entertained his hopes of 1928–9 for a compromise between the king and the Croats.

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The form of “constitutionalism” introduced in September 1931 dashed the hopes of all opposition parties in the country. Instead of inviting a select “loyal opposition” to participate in the upcoming elections, the regime had announced it would only allow one party – the government party – to “compete” for the people’s favour. On 27 September 1931, a group of leading opposition politicians responded to this by issuing a joint statement declaring that nothing of substance had changed since the promulgation of the new constitution. This response only partly disguised their inability to form a united front against the regime. For although the Radicals, the Agrarians, the Democrats, the Slovene People’s Party, and the Yugoslav Muslim Organization all signed the declaration, the signatures of the two leaders of the Peasant-Democratic Coalition, Vladko Maček and Svetozar Pribićević, were conspicuously absent from it. Pribićević was by now in selfimposed exile in Prague, and Maček was prevaricating until it became clear that the new system would not allow the coalition to mount a challenge to the government.12 The other opposition parties had tried but failed to get the Peasant-Democratic Coalition to join their statement. Once it became clear to the opposition that the regime intended to press ahead with one-party elections, a grassroots effort began to organize an electoral boycott. “In this the leaders of the SDK were more active than was the case with the leaders of the Belgrade oppositional center.”13 Especially in Croat areas, therefore, the stage was set for a renewed confrontation between a discontented populace and a robust police apparatus. In fact, the same day the opposition declaration was signed in Belgrade, Maček had penned a proclamation to the “Croat people,” which HSS party activists then distributed in Croat areas. In that proclamation, Maček completely rejected participation in elections. Tellingly, his leaflet referred to a “thirteen-year … struggle of the Croat people, not only for Croat national individuality, but also, of course, for the human rights of every individual person.” He described the candidates for the November elections as “equally far from the Croat people and equally foreign to Croat national thought.”14 In the run-up to the elections, the press dutifully reminded its readers that no one wanted a return to the pre-1929 chaos. As always, the CPB and Politika set the tone. The CPB distributed a directive to all journalists through its own correspondents, reminding them that the idea of Yugoslavism and state unity ran “like a red thread” through the new constitution. “Above all, therefore, it is necessary to emphasize that the evolution of our circumstances since 6 January 1929 constitutes

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one political whole.”15 In its pre-election rhetoric, the government returned to its cherished theme of blood and sacrifice, holding that to boycott the elections would be tantamount to defiling the graves of the millions who had died in the First World War for the idea of Yugoslavia. It was thus the people’s “most pressing duty” to vote on 8 November. Two days before those elections, Politika displayed a picture of a banner hung in central Belgrade with the words: “Citizens, fulfill your duty on 8 November.”16 Needless to say, the police heightened their surveillance of all suspicious individuals and took decisive action against anyone suspected of campaigning for a boycott. Especially in non-Serb areas, these individuals were immediately tarred with the brush of “tribalism” and even “separatism.” In announcing the election results, the regime engaged in elaborate sophistry. On 10 November, it claimed that around 66 per cent of the eligible voters nationwide – with regional variations between 34 and 80 per cent – had cast their ballots for its list.17 It also asserted that in many electoral districts its candidates had garnered more votes than the candidates of the Croat Peasant Party and the Independent Democrats had in the last elections, in September 1927.18 All of this spin couched the results firmly in the context of the pre-dictatorship political landscape. This interpretation was hardly persuasive, given that the 1927 elections had been genuinely competitive, albeit not without irregularities. Moreover, the ethnic composition of the new deputies – 219 Serbs, 55 Croats, 25 Slovenes, 3 Bosnian Muslims, 2 non-Bosnian Muslims, 1 German, and 1 Hungarian – belied the government’s claims of full political equality.19 In parliamentary debate, Croat politician Grga Anđelinović counted only 32 Croats in the lower house of the new parliament; in the last pre-1929 parliament, there had been 93. For this, pro-government deputies castigated him for “tribalism.”20 The opposition feebly tried – and failed – to unite their voices in a declaration against the elections.21 Looking ahead, Živković stated that “the results of these elections are such that they obviously show how much our people has zealously accepted the Yugoslav national thought and all foundations on which our future national and state life will evolve.”22 Similarly, the journal Jugosloven (Yugoslav) announced that “on the 8th of November [the following] won: the 6th of January, the 3rd of October, and the 3rd of September. The victory of the 8th of November is not a normal victory, it is not a normal party victory as earlier, but rather a general, national victory … Yugoslavism has won.”23 Yet anecdotal evidence suggested that those who voted for the government

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list had done so out of a narrow admiration for the king, not for his government or its politics or ideology.24 The Return of Politics In December 1931, nearly eighteen months after the idea had first been aired in the Ministerial Council, the government formed a political party. It bore the title Jugoslovenska radikalno-seljačka demokratija (Yugoslav Radical-Peasant Democracy, or JRSD). “It is obvious that the very name of the party ([i.e.] the taking of individual fragments from the names of the older, larger parties), was meant to show that it would be the heir to all the pre–Sixth of January parties.”25 Herein, though, lurked the same contradiction that had bedevilled the government of 6 January 1929: if the “before” and “after” of Yugoslav politics featured many of the same faces and political labels, where was the profound difference and advantage of which the government and its loyal press constantly spoke? On 7 December 1931, the new Skupština convened for the first time. Eight days later, the JRSD unveiled its platform. Lofty statements of loyalty to “the Yugoslav thought” and state unity abounded. Like the government’s July 1930 declaration, the JRSD’s platform emphasized the role of schools in creating and maintaining a unitary Yugoslav identity. Only in this way could one ensure that the “spirit of the Yugoslav idea” – summarized here as “the national and state thought, the study of the conditions and needs of all parts of the nation and an understanding of these, as well as the feeling of unhesitating national solidarity” – would penetrate the very “blood and tendons of the youth.”26 The government had pushed through a constitution, rigged elections, and formed a new political party without major incident, but dissatisfaction had not vanished. In November and December 1931, students at Belgrade University rioted, openly demanding Živković’s resignation. Although confined to the university campus, this was the first truly popular protest since the beginning of the dictatorship.27 Equally worrying for the regime, the JRSD was being received tepidly overall, especially because the district chiefs were conducting the grassroots organizational work.28 It was made to appear as if JRSD membership was simply one more criterion for people who wanted or needed to display their absolute loyalty to the Yugoslav cause. The high number of former Radicals and Democrats in prominent positions in the JRSD also belied its “new” nature.

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Živković did not survive the transition from full to moderated absolutism. For well over a year, persistent rumours about his impending dismissal had been circulating in tandem with speculation about the reintroduction of parliamentary government. At the best of times, the often blunt and bombastic Živković had failed to cut a popular figure. At the beginning of 1932, he once again reshuffled his cabinet, but this was not enough to save him. In April 1932, King Aleksandar ended Živković’s tenure and appointed in his place the veteran Foreign Minister, Vojislav Marinković. A former member of the Democratic Party, Marinković had a reputation as a moderate, both in Yugoslavia and abroad. Although hardly charismatic and weakened by chronic illness, he was a vastly more skilled politician than Živković. Despite entreaties from the Royal Court, both Vladko Maček and Aca Stanojević refused to participate in the Marinković cabinet. The Marinković government was short-lived. Its main achieve­ment – if such it can be called – was to introduce a debt moratorium for peasants in April 1932. This act, one of the few economic initiatives of the dictatorship, aimed to alleviate the crippling level of debt carried by the Yugoslav peasantry. Steps towards land reform had been taken after 1918 in Yugoslavia, but corruption, inconsistency, and incompetence had plagued their implementation. The result, by the late 1920s, had been a worsening economic plight for peasants, who were the majority of the population of Yugoslavia. The principal causes of this hardship were rural overpopulation, increasing debt, and reduced purchasing power.29 By 1931, “a third of all peasant households were indebted, and most of them were paying a tribute in the form of extremely high interest rates to the creditors.”30 France had extended yet another “diplomatic subsidy” in October 1931, but because of the Great Depression, the already grave economic crisis in Yugoslavia continued to worsen. The government responded with a six-month moratorium on peasants’ debt payments as well as a partial cancellation and extensive reconsolidation of debt loads. This temporarily reduced peasant indebtedness, but it did little to solve the underlying economic problems and left the peasants virtually unable to obtain new credits.31 This deplorable situation persisted until the demise of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. On the political front, Marinković lacked any ability to develop or advance a positive agenda. The government and the servile press pushed the same tired slogans. This was, in a sense, a “civilian dictatorship.”32 A brief media campaign in May 1932 – in effect a renewed attempt to rekindle the JRSD – failed spectacularly, providing more evidence of the

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government’s mind-numbing lack of originality.33 In the background, discontent continued to simmer in the country. In April 1932, Ban Ivo Perović of Sava Banovina had had to confront personally a demonstration of two hundred angry peasants near Ludbreg. The peasants, deeply upset with the state of the country, had marched along a major country road, cutting down telephone poles, waving Croatian flags, and singing Croat nationalist hymns. Several smaller peasant riots broke out in Croat areas in May. Indeed, there were peasant riots in almost every part of the country; in Zeta Banovina, rocks were hurled at visiting government ministers. The only relatively quiet area was Drava Banovina, where the economy had not collapsed quite so dramatically as elsewhere in the country. Nowhere, though, was there an organized challenge to the regime.34 Nor did any of the protests receive media coverage. In the meantime, a split had unexpectedly developed within the JRSD. In April 1932, a handful of Croat deputies – Nikola Nikić, Stjepan Valjavec, Ivan Lončarević, Franjo Gruber, and Lovro Knežević – had formed a “Narodni seljački klub” (People’s Peasant Club). These deputies sensed that the JRSD was a sinking ship – as perhaps was the regime itself – and were seeking to rescue themselves. This presented the government with a quandary: Did this not signify the formation of a “tribal” club at the very heart of the new Yugoslav party initiative? These wandering deputies had in fact tried to call their faction the “Croat Club.” A shuffling of Croat ministers gave further cause to suspect Serbo-Croat disputes within the government.35 The aforementioned Croat deputies soon used their position in parliament to probe the limits of loyal opposition. As members of parliament they had the right to question government ministers through formal interpellations. To the government’s palpable displeasure, they did this with increasing frequency and bravado. The interpellations generally concerned individual cases of official misconduct or abuse. For example, in June 1932, the members of the People’s Peasant Club filed an interpellation with the Minister of Internal Affairs concerning an assassination attempt on the Croat writer, lawyer, and politician Mile Budak in Zagreb.36 And in August, the same group of deputies filed an interpellation to protest the deaths of several young Croats who had refused to heed the ban on displaying the Croatian flag at the time of the Eucharistic Congress in Croatia and Slovenia.37 The youths had allegedly been killed by the police. More often than not, broad if implicit criticisms of the government lurked between the lines of these

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interpellations. The language of Yugoslavism again came into careful play, as at the end of the latter interpellation: How, I ask you, when you know all of this, can you justify such savage conduct by the authorities …[?] Do you think that it is in the interest of national unity and Yugoslav brotherhood that the Serbian national flag fly freely at Serbian church celebrations, while the Croatian one is trampled upon and dragged through the mud?38

Officialdom was uncertain how to respond to these inquiries. With this particular interpellation, the authorities acted clumsily, preventing the newspapers from printing it. The state prosecutor justified this by arguing that the interpellation provoked tribal and religious hatred, insulted the government, and evoked “hatred for the state as a whole.” In response to this, the deputies pointed out that there was little point in having a parliament if the executive branch prevented people from reading about the activities of their representatives.39 Yet at the same time, while maintaining their opposition to the display of Croatian “tribal” flags, the authorities sought to avoid violent confrontations. In September 1932, the Minister of Internal Affairs, Živojin Lazić, wrote to the ban of Vrbas Banovina that armed confrontations served only the opposition. As an alternative to forcibly confiscating flags and other symbols from demonstrators on the spot, Lazić advised the police to note the identities of the participants and then prosecute them later to the maximum extent of the law.40 The authorities usually submitted the interpellations to the relevant banovina or local officials, who then avoided any meaningful investigation. To the great discomfort of these same officials, however, the texts of these interpellations began to circulate as if they were underground literature. By April 1933, when Nikola Nikić, Ivan Lončarević, Lovre Knežević, Franjo Gruber, and Stjepan Valjavec published a collection of their interpellations, the patience of the authorities in Sava Banovina had been exhausted. But even then, the state responded in a contradictory manner. In May, they banned the distribution of this pamphlet; then in July, they rescinded the ban.41 In addition, the comings and goings of these deputies were closely watched.42 Meanwhile, trapped between the new “club” of rebellious deputies on the one hand and scheming professional politicians of pre-1929 vintage on the other, another group of deputies staked out a new path. Led by a pro-Živković deputy named Svetislav Hođer, these politicians

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called themselves “Yugoslavs” and called for “strong hands” to reclaim “the spirit of the Sixth of January.” Still another faction, represented by Minister of Justice Božidar Maksimović, tried to mastermind the return of the Radical Party to power. In the midst of the growing political confusion, Marinković stunned both friends and foes of the government by appearing in early May to propose a referendum on the all-important question of state and national unity.43 In sum, only six months after the first post-1929 “elections,” the façade of political and national unity seemed perilously close to cracking as politicians all across Yugoslavia jostled for power. Despite his frantic backpedalling, accompanied by a new wave of press editorials highlighting the immutable ideas of national and state unity, Marinković’s days were numbered. Two months later, on 1 July, King Aleksandar tapped Minister of Internal Affairs Milan Srškić to form a new government. Srškić, who had spent his tenure as Minister of Justice destroying the parties that had opposed the Radicals during the 1920s, was a logical choice to combat the growing factionalism in the country.44 For this very reason, however, his appointment was bound to displease both internal and external critics of the dictatorship. The British worried that his premiership might “drive the disaffected regions – Croatia and Slovenia, for instance – into open revolt.”45 By mid-1932, it could fairly be said that the dictatorship’s survival owed at least as much to a lack of coherent opposition as to the autocratic political system. The opposition’s program was more a “unity against a political situation rather than for a definite and generally acceptable program of political and economic action.”46 Beyond that simple and negatively formulated foundation, common ground was hard to find between the Croat opposition’s blanket accusations of “Serbian hegemony” and the Serb opposition’s equally blanket accusations of Croat separatism. It also did not help that Maček, as in 1928, seemed to persist in thinking he could reach an agreement on the “Croat question” directly with the king – that is, over the heads of the Serb opposition.47 As for King Aleksandar himself, he still believed he could negotiate with anyone he pleased but that others should not enjoy that same privilege.48 Dragoljub Jovanović, the Serbian Agrarian politician who had published an anonymous pamphlet titled Šta nas košta svađa sa Hrvatima (How Much Does the Quarrel with the Croats Cost Us) – was one of the few politicians to grasp the weaknesses and strengths of both sides’ arguments.49 He paid for his candor with repeated prison sentences.50

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Except for persistent but low-intensity peasant protests, the summer of 1932 was politically uneventful. September began with a brief shock to the government when a handful of Croat Ustaša members infiltrated from Italy launched the abortive “Lika rebellion” in the village of Brušani in Sava Banovina.51 This attack posed no real danger to the state; it did, though, strengthen the government’s vigilance against Croat irredentism.52 In Belgrade, little changed, except that in early November, Srškić resigned. This was followed quickly by a reshuffled Srškić government. The charade surrounding Srškić’s “new” government stoked two important developments already under way. First, the manifest lack of originality in the government led to a split within the JRSD. The “Yugoslavs” around Svetislav Hođer left the parliamentary wing of the JRSD and formed the Jugoslovenski narodni klub (Yugoslav People’s [Parliamentary] Club). This further underscored the bankruptcy of the regime. Second, the opposition awoke from its long stupor. On 5 November 1932, the SDK published a document that quickly became known as the Zagrebačke punktacije (Zagreb Points).53 This program amounted to a substantive and pointed criticism of every important aspect of the regime. It demanded a return to real democracy and a larger role for the peasantry in society and politics. It also cited the negative impact of “Serbian hegemony” and the need to return to 1918 – in effect, to start afresh. Significantly, the Peasant-Democratic Coalition did not fracture over the punktacije. For all its rhetoric about “Serbian hegemony,” the coalition clearly aimed to criticize the regime, not Serbs per se. Even so, differences within the coalition were noticeable. Whereas the Croats emphasized questions of state structure, the exiled Pribićević and the Independent Democratic Party – like the parties in Serbia proper – gave more weight to legal and political rights. The punktacije criticized the government and called for a general restructuring of the country – that is, for an end to the despised banovinas. Yet this call was so vague that it meant different things to different signatories.54 Even among the Croats, varying interpretations coexisted. “In Maček’s interpretation the dominant thought of the punktacije was a solution of the Croat question within the Yugoslav framework.”55 For Trumbić it meant a solution closer to independence. The regime’s response to the punktacije combined condescension with fury.56 The opposition, Maček in particular, was pilloried for proposing that the clock be turned back to 1918. “Returning to the ‘initial’ year of

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1918 would mean beginning to oblige revisionists of all sorts, which means adopting the thesis of Hungarians, Bulgarians, and Italians, who can barely wait for such a return. That would be a singular example of state suicide.”57 Maček bore at least part of the responsibility for this, for he had made a statement about a return to 1918 in interviews with foreign press correspondents.58 This had the side effect of making the punktacije appear less acceptable to the opposition parties in Serbia proper than they otherwise might have been. The government assailed the punktacije, accusing those who had signed them of treason, of separatism, and of being lackeys of an irredentist Italy.59 The government’s ire at the punktacije did nothing to deter Maček or the rest of the opposition. In fact, “the regime’s propaganda against the Punktacije had the result that they received unexpected publicity in the country.”60 Inspired by the SDK, both the Slovene People’s Party and the JMO issued their own punktacije. In Slovenia, Anton Korošec released a list of demands, the so-called Ljubljanske or Koroščeve punktacije (Ljubljana or Korošec Points) at the end of 1932.61 Korošec’s program called for a democratization of the political system and for the preservation of Slovenian national individuality within the Yugoslav state. This was to be achieved by creating equal units, one of which would be Slovenia within the Yugoslav state. Korošec also set out an irredentist agenda, calling for the unification of Slovenes in Italy, Austria, and Hungary. In the government press – which gleefully pointed out that the Trieste newspaper Il Piccolo had published the document – Korošec quickly found himself under attack as a traitor.62 The government also accused him of hypocrisy for criticizing policies first implemented when he was a government minister. The sharply worded Ljubljana Points surprised many domestic and foreign observers, who regarded Korošec as fundamentally loyal to king and country.63 There is considerable evidence that radicals in the SLS had presented Korošec with a fait accompli, which he then chose to accept rather than suffer a dramatic loss of political influence in Slovenia. Indeed, the Slovene historian Janko Prunk regards this as a turning point in Slovenian political history, for it marked Korošec’s definitive rejection of cohabitation with the dictatorship.64 In Sarajevo in January 1933, Mehmed Spaho and the JMO published their own resolution, the Sarajevske or Spahine punktacije (Sarajevo or Spaho Points). Having failed to achieve a joint resolution with the Croats and the Slovenes, the JMO echoed the Slovenes. Its resolution called for the democratization of Yugoslavia and for Bosnia and Herzegovina

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to return to its previous status as a distinct and unitary administrative unit.65 Finally, in addition to these punktacije, Serbian opposition parties issued a cascade of supportive position papers during the winter of 1932–3.66 There were strong differences among the various punktacije; all of them, however, called for an end to the dictatorship and the re-establishment of freedom of speech, press freedom, and political pluralism. Furthermore, almost no party issuing punktacije could resist criticizing the banovina system. Most, including several of the Serb parties, proposed alternative administrative architectures, each of which reflected national and regional biases. Even those Serb parties that resented the charge of “Serb hegemony” seemed prone to lay the blame for this charge on the conduct of the Royal Court and the government in Belgrade, and not on the Croats or the SDK. Nor did the opposition voices lack resonance in pro-regime circles. Especially in Drava Banovina, discontent had begun to stir among local and banovina councillors, who belatedly realized that their bodies served only as the deceptively autonomous icing on a thoroughly indigestible centralistic cake.67 A general consensus was emerging that the centralistic and authoritarian system introduced in January 1929 had utterly failed to create stability and prosperity for Yugoslavia. As a direct result of the SDK’s punktacije, the authorities arrested Maček at the end of January 1933. In contrast to the clumsy 1929 trial, this time the government openly manipulated the court and took no chances.68 In April 1933, the State Court for State Protection found Maček guilty of treason and sentenced him to three years in prison.69 Opposition politicians and the public as a whole criticized the trial and imprisonment of Maček, not least because he was the only signatory of the punktacije to be so punished.70 Undoubtedly, though, in his role in the SDK and in his statements to foreign diplomats and correspondents, he had established himself as the most inviting target for government retaliation.71 The authorities also arrested Korošec in January 1933 for his punktacije and eventually relegated him indefinitely to Vrnjačka Banja, a spa in Central Serbia. Finally, Spaho was arrested and jailed; subsequently, in March, he was placed under house arrest in Sarajevo. This wave of repression provided the government with some breathing space. With Maček in jail, Ante Trumbić and Josip Predavec played the leading roles in the HSS.72 Trumbić in particular took a firm stance, refusing to negotiate with the regime while Maček remained incarcerated. The SDK drifted aimlessly over the coming months, and relations between

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the SDS and the HSS remained tense. The situation was not helped by the SDS leader Svetozar Pribićević, who while in France published a stinging republican polemic against King Aleksandar in France.73 All of this made it difficult for the SDK and the Serb opposition to make common cause.74 However, the SDK’s problems did not mean that the government could relax. It now found itself fighting dissent on another front. The Roman Catholic Church’s Pastoral Letter against the Union of Sokols Clearly, the Croat Peasant Party had by no means vanished in the years after 6 January 1929. However, police surveillance constantly impinged on the operations of both local party activists and the party hierarchy. Forced underground and away from politics, a sizeable number of Croats looked to the Roman Catholic Church to preserve their national identity. During the first half of the dictatorship, the Roman Catholic Church and the state managed to coexist without great tension. This was in a way quite remarkable, given that the Church was the only officially recognized religion that had not normalized its relations with the Yugoslav state. Much of the credit for preserving cordial relations went to the Zagreb Archbishop Ante Bauer, who headed the Church’s Yugoslav Episcopate.75 Bauer held several high royal Yugoslav orders, including, somewhat ironically, the Order of St Sava (First Class). He was the leading representative of the Roman Catholic Church in Yugoslavia. On Bauer’s seventieth birthday in February 1930, Minister of Justice Milan Srškić voiced the wish that Bauer would “live for many more long years for the good of the church as well as for the honour of our state, which in you sees a glorious champion of our national thought [narodna misao].”76 Relations between the state and other individual Catholic bishops ranged from amicable to openly antagonistic.77 Anton Jeglič, the Bishop of Ljubljana until his retirement in 1930, was of the more hostile element. In 1931, to protest the impact of Yugoslav ideology on Slovenian identity, he returned the decorations he had received from the state. Gregorij Rožman, Jeglič’s successor, had been a prominent figure in the Catholic Orel (Eagle) youth movement until the regime disbanded it in 1929.78 As a bishop, he devoted much attention to Catholic Action, a movement that sought to ensure an active role for the Catholic Church in state and society.79

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The government knew that the religious orders and societies of the Roman Catholic Church had often provided sanctuary for dissolved “tribal” societies. In addition, state officials looked with suspicion on the activities of some local church officials, particularly in Croat nationalist hotbeds such as Herzegovina and the Dalmatian hinterlands. The activities of the Križari (Crusaders), a Catholic organization, were a regular source of tensions between the Church and the state.80 The Križari were a resurrection of the Catholic society the Orlovi (Eagles), which the dictatorship had banned. When the leader of the Orlovi, the lawyer Ivo Protulipac, founded the Križari in early 1930, Archbishop Bauer gave his approval without consulting the state. The police intervened against the group, arresting Protulipac and several priests involved in the Križari. Bauer protested, arguing that there had been a misunderstanding, and assuring the suspicious authorities that the Križari would be a purely religious organization and that neither they nor Protulipac would cause problems for the regime. The controversy around the Križari illustrated the increasingly difficult position of Bauer, who constantly had to position himself between the state and the politically active clergy within his church. In the event, the biggest crisis between the state and the Roman Catholic Church emerged not from the Križari but from Catholic bishops’ growing dissatisfaction with the Sokol movement.81 Individual members of the Roman Catholic hierarchy, most notably Bishop Josip (Jožef) Srebrnić of Krk, had already launched their own attacks on the Sokol movement. Srebrnić’s August 1931 pamphlet Tyršev duh (The Spirit of Tyrš) was a harsh attack on the Sokol founder’s ideology.82 However, no concerted action was taken by the Church during the first years of the dictatorship.83 This changed in November 1932, when the Church’s bishops’ conference voted to adopt a pastoral letter on the Sokol movement. That letter was subsequently distributed to priests throughout the country. On Sunday, 8 January 1933, in almost every Roman Catholic Church in the country, the presiding priest read the pastoral letter aloud to the assembled congregation.84 This amounted to a frontal assault on the Sokol movement. Referring to Miroslav Tyrš, the Czech founder of the Sokol movement, the Church labelled his teachings anathema to Catholicism. In theological terms, the Church objected strenuously to the worship of the human body, something that the Sokol movement cultivated. The Sokols seemed to place Miroslav Tyrš “above Jesus Christ.” “The Sokol is therefore ipso facto a totally irreligious society. But given that the Sokol works based on these ideals

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among the youth and the people, and that it wants to acquire all people for itself, it destroys in the hearts of its members every faith, [and] above all the Catholic faith: it is not only irreligious, rather it is also an antireligious society.” In other words, the Church also opposed claims that the Sokol movement was making on believers’ time and minds. It perceived the activities of the Yugoslav Sokol as an intrusion on its own activities. Instead of attending mass, Sokol members had to participate in exercises, rallies, jamborees, and so on. “Even worse … they regularly finish their Sokol meetings with dancing and drinking until the late night, and even until dawn.” Bauer and his fellow bishops cited occasions when Sokol leaders had prohibited their Catholic members from expressing their religious faith. The bishops also noted instances in which Sokol members had insulted the Pope and spoken of the existence of a Vatican-led “Black International.” Thus, the Church saw no choice but to advise its followers “as we have done already since 1921, to reject this danger, because the Lord God will make a strict reckoning of how you took care of the religious and moral upbringing of your offspring.” “This [advisory] lasts as long as the Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia remains with Tyrš’s principles, as long as the old Yugoslav Sokols [Jugosokoli] are at the head of the Sokol movement.” The letter closed with a vow to stay “unyielding in the faith of our fathers. We will not allow the Sokol movement – which denies our Saviour and our honourable Croat/Slovene name – to separate us from that faith.”85 Some priests appended their own anti-Sokol commentary to the pastoral letter. For instance, in Privlaka near Vinkovci, the priest Matija Pavić warned against the “Sokol enemy” and reminded parents to raise their children in the “Croat spirit.”86 State officials, who viewed the Sokol movement as the vanguard of ecumenical Yugoslavism, had known for quite some time about the grievances the Roman Catholic bishops were now articulating in their pastoral letter. As noted earlier, Bishop Srebrnić had been active against the Sokol movement. Moreover, in July 1932, Archbishop Bauer, citing objections to Tyrš’s ideology, had refused to bless the flags of a Sokol company in Varaždin. Even earlier, in January 1931, the Catholic priest Jakob Ramovš, who served as a banovina councilman in Drava Banovina, had complained directly to Ban Drago Marušič about the lack of religion in the Sokol movement. Marušič brushed aside these concerns, citing the regime’s standard argument that the Sokol movement represented ecumenical Yugoslavism and should therefore not be allowed to evolve into an arena of religious conflict. Marušič insisted that religion

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played no part in the Sokol movement; he did, however, promise to take steps to ensure that Sokol members did not engage in explicitly anti-religious manifestations.87 These earlier incidents notwithstanding, the bold language of the letter and the synchronized public airing of its contents in churches took Belgrade aback. The letter was certain to provoke a swift and harsh reaction, for it was tantamount to calling for Catholics to boycott the Sokol movement. Furthermore, the Church’s condemnation of the movement arguably constituted a (forbidden) political act on the part of a religious organization, and the letter was therefore liable to be criticized as unpatriotic. The state may have insisted that the Sokol was an apolitical organization, but that was a transparent fiction, given that the Sokol represented the state’s official policies and ideology.88 In this light, the state’s confrontation with the Roman Catholic Church was merely the latest in a series of events that revealed the strongly political character of the Sokol movement. Within days, both the government and the Sokol movement had rejected categorically the assertions made in the pastoral letter. In their view, non-denominational Christianity infused Tyrš’s thought and the activities of the Sokol movement. Pro-state critics of the Church pointed out that it had not hesitated to sponsor Croat Sokol organizations, which also had based themselves on Tyrš’s teachings.89 Perhaps because the wounds inflicted by the punktacije were still fresh, the venom expressed in the press at alleged opponents of Yugoslavism was extraordinary, even by the standards of the time. The Union of Sokols, of course, led the charge, and its chapters inundated officials with tirades against “traitors” and “foreign servants” within the Church.90 In Ljubljana, officials organized a mass “state unity” rally on 20 January 1933 at which both Korošec’s punktacije and the anti-Sokol pastoral letter were shrilly denounced. Those assembled passed a resolution threatening to take matters into their own hands if the state did not with all due speed punish those who were working “to destroy” the state.91 One by one, political and cultural leaders of the Yugoslav state answered the call to condemn the Roman Catholic Church. One memorable statement, by a group of Slovenes in Belgrade, voiced the opinion that “the Roman Catholic episcopate has no right to call itself Yugoslav because it is ‘Yugoslav’ only insofar as that can be said, for example, for Yugoslav tuberculosis or Yugoslav traitors. The [Assembly] regards the pastoral letter of the Roman Catholic episcopate as grand treason.”92

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As it had done before, the state managed to locate a sympathizer in the enemy camp. This time, that role was unwittingly taken by Bishop Ucellini-Tice of the Diocese of Kotor, who claimed not to see any contradiction between the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church and those of Miroslav Tyrš. At the bishops’ conference in November 1932 where the pastoral letter had been adopted, Ucellini-Tice had been the only bishop who refused to sign. The media lavished attention on his pronouncements. In statements to a Politika correspondent at the end of January 1933, Ucellini-Tice proudly displayed a copy of General Milan Nedić’s book Srpska vojska i Solunski front (The Serbian Army and the Thessaloniki Front). “Here you have a final settlement of how much blood that which we have has cost us. What is that force which wants to challenge our right to a peaceful life and to divide us? I believe that they will at the end of it all be convinced that all of their efforts were in vain.”93 Ucellini-Tice asked to remain anonymous, but the government seized the opportunity to parade him as an example of a loyal Roman Catholic priest. Uccellini-Tice remained an outspoken minority in the Roman Catholic Church.94 For its part, the Church rejected the charge of treason. It denied that the pastoral letter had originated among Jesuits in the Vatican and thus represented an attempt to divide the South Slavs and prepare the way for Italian aggression.95 Likewise, it dismissed any connection between the punktacije and the pastoral letter.96 Archbishop Bauer pleaded for an end to such public attacks on the Church, which he thought only “hellish hatred” could have sponsored. He also spoke of appeals to the state for tolerance that had gone unheeded for four years.97 The following day, an editorial in Politika disingenuously downplayed the existence of any anti-Catholic sentiment and warned that the battle had only just been joined. It cited the earlier teachings of Bishop Strossmayer as evidence that the Archbishopric was betraying Yugoslavism. The editorial also spoke of grassroots opposition to the reading of the pastoral letter. Most astonishingly, it engaged in a bit of supernatural speculation. “We have heard of cases, in which in some churches the pious sounds of the organs fell silent, because the spirits were agitated at the time of the reading of the pastoral letter, and so at that moment left the church.”98 As far as the general public’s reception can be established, it seems that in Croat and Slovene areas, people were largely sympathetic to the bishops’ complaints.99 The cases of the Section for State Protection in Sava Banovina attest to lingering bitterness over the 1929 dissolution of the Croat Sokol. There is no question that the episode sharpened the

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conflict between Croats and the government and led to a precipitous decline in Sokol membership among Catholics.100 The government, or at least some parts of it, seem to have been taken aback by the force with which the Roman Catholic Church had attacked the Sokol movement. Several months after the reading of the pastoral letter, the ban of Sava Banovina, Ivo Perović, wrote to Milan Antić, the Minister of the Royal Court.101 Perović had spoken repeatedly with Bauer during the first half of 1933, and the Sokol movement had figured as the main topic of conversation. Calm seemed to be returning, but the issue threatened to boil over again after Bauer was ordered to appear in court to answer charges of subversion.102 In Perović’s opinion, the state could only lose by putting Bauer on trial. Bauer had scheduled a visit to the Vatican in order to calm papal anxieties about the position of Catholics in Yugoslavia. If Bauer cancelled his journey, this would send exactly the wrong signal to the Holy See. Heightening tensions between the Holy See and Yugoslavia was a visit by a Yugoslav parliamentary delegation. Pope Pius XI had refused to accept such a visit even though it would be led by a Catholic senator, Želimir Mažuranić. According to Bauer, the pope had declined the visit because he felt insulted by anti-Catholic speeches in the Skupština and the Senate and because some of the delegates had allegedly voted for anti-Catholic and anti-Jesuit legislation. The ban favoured personal and private persuasion, which he had reason to believe would work. Basing his analysis of the situation on a “completely reliable source,” Minister Antić argued that extremists in the Church were seeking to exploit the conflict with the Sokol in order to drive a wedge between Archbishop Bauer and the state. The culprits included Archbishop Ivan Šarić of Sarajevo and Bishop Josip Srebrnić of Krk. Perović thought they had intended to force the state’s hand – that is, the state would arrest Bauer and put him on trial. The hard-line bishops would then supposedly reap the benefits of the inevitable foreign condemnation of anti-Catholicism in Yugoslavia. In the case of Šarić, Perović said he had received confidential and reliable information that Šarić had told Bauer he regarded Italy as “our only hope.” Bauer personally wanted nothing more than for the entire matter to go away. In addition, Perović thought he had convinced Bauer that only trouble could come from holding bishops’ conferences and that no more would be convened. Indeed, Perović thought that Bauer would during his stay in the Vatican denounce the “unbecoming” work of Šarić and Srebrnić. In sum, then, Perović strongly preferred to keep the archbishop he knew instead of risking his replacement by a nationalist and clericalist hardliner.

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At the same time, Perović expressed disappointment with the work of the Sokol in Sava Banovina. The movement had stagnated and was not making efficient use of the “moral and material help” it had received from the banovina administration. “In my opinion,” wrote Perović, “the Sokol has only one possible and effective way to react worthily to all the intrigues and this … crazed fanaticism of the clericalists. That [way] is intensive and positive work, creating Sokol societies and companies everywhere, and investing much more labor and effort in the progress and bloom of these.”103 Besides generating a media storm, the Roman Catholic Church’s pastoral letter and the state’s reaction led directly to heightened tensions in everyday life between Catholic Yugoslav citizens and the state. Banovina and local officials devoted extra attention to the actions and words of clergy in their areas of jurisdiction. Relations between the state and the Church deteriorated sharply, especially at the local or village level. In the eyes of the state, “Croat tribalism” was becoming more intertwined than ever with “clericalism” – that is, with the desire to subordinate politics and society to the views of the Church.104 These two terms were in turn identified with the treasonous activities of the terrorist Ustaša movement. In June 1934, the Roman Catholic Church consecrated the young Bishop Alojzije Stepinac as the successor to Ante Bauer. Unlike Bauer, Stepinac hailed from a rural and less intellectual setting. His theological training had imparted to him more conservative and critical views towards Yugoslavism than those held by Bauer.105 To the state authorities, Stepinac’s popularity and common touch made him dangerous. Indeed, soon after his appointment, some government officials argued that Stepinac posed a greater threat to the state’s relations with Croats than Maček did.106 In a CPB report in August 1934, the anonymous author opined that Maček was “at the top of the Croat peasantry only as the executor of Radić’s will, as the inheritor of Radić in the party. The people are searching for a new leader [vođa], a new idol. Now in Croatia, the man of the day is the new archbishop coadjutor [Stepinac].” According to this author, Stepinac would try to nurture the organization Katolička akcija (Catholic Action) among Croats, thereby integrating them into “Catholic Europe.”107 Clearly, the state needed to take countermeasures. The author believed he had a solution: The [Italian] fascist example and the Lateran Pact [signed between the Holy See and the Italian government in February 1929] offer the Royal government the possibility and justification of protecting the state and the

228  Making Yugoslavs nation from the destructive politics and anti-Yugoslav Croato-nationalistic action of the Catholic Church in a similar or even in a different manner … The separation of the Catholic Church from the state should not in any way be allowed, for among other reasons, because: first, because the state would lose its influence on the Catholic Church … and second, because the separation of the Church from the state would have catastrophic consequences for the [Serbian] Orthodox Church which is neither prepared nor does it possess the means for a fully independent existence without state support and protection, and which is today the main pillar and support of the Crown and the state.108

The state’s hostility towards Stepinac seems somewhat paradoxical, given that King Aleksandar himself had designated Stepinac the successor to Bauer. Aleksandar had chosen Stepinac over several other, more senior bishops. In sum, it remains very difficult to explain the Yugoslav state’s stance towards Stepinac. On the Catholic side, the confrontation between the Church and the state encouraged Croats generally to withdraw, resulting in the direction of political and “tribal” radicalism. The increased tensions between Roman Catholics and the Yugoslav state also manifested themselves on the publishing scene during the second half of the dictatorship. While some Catholic publications, such as Hrvatska straža (Croat Sentinel, founded in 1929), continued to try to engage the state in a dialogue – albeit in a cautious and limited way – newer publications such as Hrvatska smotra (Croatian Review, established in 1933), basically tried to ignore the Yugoslav state.109 Undoubtedly, the Roman Catholic Church grounded its criticism of the Sokol movement in strongly conservative, even reactionary theology. There is no question that most Catholic clergy at the time abhorred secular and even non-denominational organizations.110 The Church at this time was able to strengthen itself because its followers were deeply religious and because Croatian and Slovenian society was generally conservative. The Church also derived strength from its function as the gathering point for opposition to an increasingly unpopular and profoundly illiberal regime. Thus it was possible to agree that “it is rather the failure of the Belgrade Government to conciliate the people that has given the Church the excuse, if not the motive, to advance demands which could not be granted. The most patent instance is the case of the Sokol.”111

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The Persistence of “Tribalism” The battle between the Roman Catholic Church and the Yugoslav Sokol was only one among many. Throughout the second half of the dictatorship, daily life remained a struggle between ordinary citizens and state authorities over identity. Given the monopoly of force commanded by the state, this resistance tended to manifest itself passively. In often ingenious ways, people grabbed at any excuse to avoid participating in state-sponsored activities and organizations. Modes of resistance changed very little after the September 1931 constitution was introduced. The main points of contention remained obvious to any peasant: holidays, celebrations, flags, songs, and language. The Croatian State Archives reveal a steady stream of cases in which peasants, priests, schoolteachers, and others refused to acknowledge actively the symbols and representatives of the Yugoslav state. Hardly a day passed by without an incident in which a Croat insulted the state and its bureaucrats or “neglected” to participate in an official ceremony. Daily life offered proof that the Yugoslav state saw instilling Yugoslav ideology in its citizens as a matter of state security. The Sokol movement was vital to that project, and almost every state institution in some way played a role in compelling recalcitrant “tribal” youths to participate in that organization.112 The failure to instil Yugoslav ideology among Croats was certainly not due to a lack of energy or fervour among officials. Authorities in every Croat district – and, of course, in the country as a whole – painstakingly monitored every aspect of life to ensure that it conformed to the nacionalan duh (national spirit). School officials in particular worked hard to ensure that narodno prosvećivanje (popular education) proceeded in line with Yugoslav ideology. Thus, in March 1934, the district chief of the Dalmatian island of Korčula, like all other district chiefs, filed a report summarily listing every organization involved in narodno prosvećivanje in his district.113 Notes such as “the national spirit rules in the association” and “nationally agile society” adorned the “best” groups; others were labelled “tribally oriented.” Yugoslavia’s difficult financial straits made it more difficult for the state to wage its battle against tribalists. The district of Senj was far from the only one complaining of a lack of schoolbooks and other materials for the education (and indoctrination) of students.114

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The HSS continued to be the main organizer of resistance to the regime in Croat areas. At Easter in 1933, party activists once again distributed a leaflet to Croats from Vladko Maček. Invoking biblical images, Maček condemned those “Judases” who were profiting from the regime while the majority of Croats languished in their own “Golgotha.” Maček expressed confidence in the strength of the “Croat national soul, the peasant soul, the suffering and hence immortal soul,” which would persist until the “dawn of Croat national freedom. On that note I wish the Croat people a Happy Easter!”115 The late winter and early spring of 1933 featured a public polemic about the nature of Yugoslavism, inspired most directly by a declaration the Yugoslav People’s Club read aloud in parliament on 16 February 1933. That statement, which emphasized the sovereignty of the Yugoslav people and a larger role for the peasantry, came very close to embracing some of the key demands of the Zagreb punktacije. In the ensuing debate, Senator Želimir Mažuranić warned that the government was making a mistake in propagating integral Yugoslavism, which he defined as the negation of Serbdom, Croatdom, and Slovenedom. Instead, he wanted the government to pursue synthetic Yugoslavism, which would positively mix all three “tribes” into a common whole that would be greater than the sum of its parts.116 To Mažuranić’s critics, this sounded like a recipe for “tribalism.” Senator Jovan Banjanin thought that Mažuranić was positing a false dichotomy. He noted sarcastically that “if Mr. Mažuranić were, in the present conditions, to go off to rallies to convince people that they have to look at synthetic Yugoslavism as salvation, I assure him that no one would be able to understand him.”117 Banjanin thought that the differences present among the three “tribes” were an unfortunate by-product of centuries of colonial divide et impera. However, unlike the most fervent “integralists,” he did not think it was the government’s job to relegate these identities to the past. He also thought that the authors of the various punktacije were engaging in dangerous experiments. In sum, he did not see how the “hegemony” of Serbia could be prevented in any Yugoslav state, regardless of its administrative architecture or form of government. “We Yugoslavs recognize that Serbia immured its heroism and martyrdom – for which there is no better example in the world – into the foundations of this state … But sirs, we are searching for and want for Yugoslav statehood to be transferred to the entire Yugoslav nation, united and equal. Even today, the opposition would not know how to do anything but to return the country to the chaos of the dark year of 1928.”118

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In April 1933, the regime reached what could perhaps be called its narcissistic apex. Nikola Uzunović, a former Radical prime minister who now held a high position in the JRSD’s party structure, orchestrated a mass rally in Niš. The party invited people from all regions of Yugoslavia to come and show their support for the government, the king, and the fatherland. Resorting to tactics that would later be mimicked by communist regimes in the region, the state provided free transportation for all participants and “encouraged” state employees to attend. Supporters of Karla Kovačević – who had, in the meantime, become the vice-president of the Skupština – came from Croatia. The result was a fiasco of epic proportions. Tens of thousands of people took up the offer of free train tickets and travelled to Niš with no intention whatsoever of attending the rally. On the day, nature conspired to exacerbate the JRSD’s problems: torrential downpours drenched the area and ruined the loudspeakers the party had provided. As a result, barely anyone heard the routinely propagandistic speeches made by Uzunović and other JRSD leaders.119 This, of course, did not stop the JRSD from declaring later that “not only the foreign but also the domestic political success of the rally in Niš surpassed all expectations.”120 On learning about the farce in Niš, King Aleksandar was livid. By this point, his patience with the incompetence, self-aggrandizement, and corruption of his ministers had begun to wear thin. He told the French minister at Belgrade that he could not understand why the government kept delaying the promised administrative decentralization of the country – a measure that the king thought necessary for Yugoslavism and national unity to succeed.121 He later told the future Patriarch Gavrilo of the Serbian Orthodox Church that it had been a mistake to allow the formation of the JRSD and that it was tempting to start afresh with an entirely new cast.122 The king claimed that he had been besieged by foreign relations problems after the 1931 constitution was introduced. He complained about being fed untruths by his ministers, who were themselves hopelessly out of touch with the popular mood. He added that he had heard from reliable sources that some at the April 1933 rally had actually shouted anti-regime slogans.123 In July 1933, in a purely cosmetic change, the JRSD renamed itself the Jugoslovenska nacionalna stranka (Yugoslav National Party, or JNS) and elected Nikola Uzunović as its president. The following month, a series of local elections began to be held across Yugoslavia, starting in Vrbas and Morava Banovinas. The seven other banovinas went to the polls in October 1933. In both the conduct of the polling and the media coverage,

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these elections bore all the undemocratic hallmarks of the November 1931 parliamentary elections. True, the government had revised the election law in March 1933, but this was “no more than the flimsiest window-dressing and … met with universal dissatisfaction.”124 Only candidates determined by the district chiefs to be completely loyal to “state interests” were allowed to run.125 These were still one-party elections in which voting was conducted orally, and the government once again claimed that the vast majority had been eager to vote – this, so the government asserted, despite “terrorist” tactics resorted to by the “anational” and “anti-state” opposition to dissuade people from voting. The opposition did, however, manage to get local election boards to accept alternative (i.e., non-JNS) lists in some instances. These lists were promptly labelled “socialist” or “[politically] compromised” by the government.126 This time, though, the opposition had done more grassroots work and could counter with claims of its own. In several areas, primitive non-governmental election monitoring teams stood ready to witness distortions of the democratic process. For example, in Drava Banovina on 15 October, observers reported a host of irregularities. In the township of Toplice near Novo Mesto, the local police commandant had locked a local opposition activist, the tailor Matija Blatnik, in a room and threatened him with the words “I’m going to banish you so far that you are going to die” if he did not vote for the local leader on the JNS list. “After that the commandant followed him all the way to the doorstep of the polling place, and then listened by the open doors to hear how Blatnik voted.” In Ribnica, Ivan Arko, a banovina councillor who headed the local electoral commission, told people they would be allowed to receive passports only if they voted for the JNS. The district chief had gone door to door, dragooning people to the polling station. If unhappy with the low turnout, the heads of electoral commissions would simply shut the doors to the polling stations, only to reopen them later and reveal that the JNS had miraculously received a large number of votes.127 In the words of one anonymous opposition report, “I believe that the JNS lists would have received at least 1/3 fewer votes, if there had not been individual terror. And let us not even talk about how the elections would have looked if there had been only relative electoral freedom!”128 In Drava Banovina in particular, much of the government’s bumbling seemed to have been the result of last-minute uncertainty about whether the SLS would participate in elections. When the SLS did in fact clear individual candidates to participate, the

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local authorities had panicked and scrambled to circumvent any SLS victories.129 In its quest to uncover the “truth” about the local elections, the opposition received assistance from the People’s Peasant Club. On 17 October 1933, Ivan Lončarević, speaking on the floor of the Skupština, unveiled detailed evidence of electoral manipulation. Lončarević had obtained an order issued by the royal banovina administration of Sava Banovina two weeks before the elections. In that order, banovina officials instructed officials to do whatever was necessary to ensure a turnout of at least 60 per cent in their electoral districts. Although some local officials had balked at doing this, the overall picture was deplorable. Lončarević estimated that perhaps 200,000 votes had been “created” in this manner. This kind of conduct was, in Lončarević’s view, “a rarity in the political history of cultured [i.e. civilized] political nations.” The president of the Skupština tried to prevent Lončarević from continuing with his exposé, but Lončarević persisted. He also cited similar instances from Littoral Banovina. After his speech, the Skupština voted to ban Lončarević from attending its next five sessions.130 In the meantime, the authorities ran cursory investigations into allegations of official misconduct during the elections.131 Undaunted, the government decided to ignore the dissonant albeit disorganized tune the opposition was playing. The government claimed as of mid-October that at least 80 per cent of the votes had been for the government list and that turnout had nowhere dropped below 50 per cent of the electorate.132 Outside observers were less sanguine about the future of the country. Resentment about the previous spring’s struggle over the Sokol movement lingered in Catholic areas, and the peasantry continued to complain of high taxes. According to the British Consul in Zagreb, “every section of the population of Slovenia and Croatia cordially hates the Belgrade Government and bitterly resents the failure of the Monarch to attempt to remedy the situation.”133 The Creation of a Yugoslav Martyr Ever since the reintroduction of “parliamentarism,” King Aleksandar had receded from the domestic political scene. The tightly controlled state media of course adored him and regularly printed and broadcast paeans to him, but it was rare that he made direct pronouncements to the people. Instead, he devoted his attention to foreign policy, and in particular to the crafting of a “Balkan peace.” The goal here, increasingly

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pursued in concert with King Boris of Bulgaria, was to reduce the Great Powers’ influence over the Balkans. The catchphrase for this was Balkan balkanskim narodima (The Balkans Belong to the Peoples of the Balkans). For Aleksandar, success would shore up regional security and at the same time weaken perceptions abroad that he was a mere puppet of France.134 Domestically, the king was growing isolated from events. He enjoyed the occasional journey – sometimes incognito – to visit “his people”; generally, though, he subsisted on a diet of glowingly positive news fed to him by his advisers. During the last two years of his reign, he made several pronouncements to the effect that he did not place much currency on his ministers’ reports about a rapturously happy nation. But he did not make any consistent effort to investigate those reports. As Minister Henderson lamented at the end of 1933, the local elections had fooled almost no one “except possibly the King.” The positive electoral results had been produced by the government “in order to prove to the King what fine fellows his Ministers are and how His Majesty’s Yugoslav ideal is gaining ground in the country.”135 Reality soon punctured the mood of the king’s ministers. Foreign and domestic observers had throughout the time of the dictatorship worried about the king’s safety. Fears of attacks on the royal couple had repeatedly delayed their previous visit to Zagreb. On 16 December 1933, the king travelled to Zagreb again, this time to celebrate his birthday in Yugoslavia’s second city. On the day of his arrival, he survived an assassination attempt by Petar Oreb and Josip Begović, two young members of the Ustaša.136 The press coverage focused on the “boundlessly enthusiastic” reception given the king by the citizens of Zagreb and studiously avoided mentioning the failed plot.137 The king, who had been unaware of it until notified by the police the following day, reacted calmly. He and Queen Marija stayed in Zagreb as planned until 26 December. Indeed, they even returned to Zagreb for another visit in January 1934, thereby ensuring that civil servants would once again be called out onto the streets to cheer “spontaneously.”138 However, the security measures precipitated by the foiled attack probably led to the cancellation of planned audiences with opposition politicians.139 This further delayed any attempts at political reconciliation. By the beginning of 1934, the government’s unpopularity had become too great for even the most tone-deaf politicians to ignore. Prime Minister Srškić was almost as unpopular with pro-government politicians as he was with the opposition and the population at large. Moreover,

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he was known to oppose both decentralization and the king’s overtures to the opposition.140 On 23 January 1934, Srškić tendered his government’s resignation, which the king quickly accepted.141 Popular pleasure at the departure of the despised Srškić was tempered by the announcement, on 27 January, that Nikola Uzunović would form the next government. Perhaps no politician more exemplified the utter dearth of political originality than Uzunović, who had served repeatedly as prime minister in the late 1920s. Moreover, after the fiasco of the JRSD’s mass rally in Niš, not even the king had a high opinion of the pallid but trustworthy Uzunović.142 It was clear to everyone that his government was provisional.143 By March, Uzunović had managed to disappoint even those who had dared hope his appointment would usher in reforms. Typical was his pronouncement that the treacherous international environment justified the system of open, oral voting for parliament. “We believe that today – and I emphasize especially that word – it is not any kind of heresy to be in favor of public voting given the conditions which generally obtain in the world and given the political tasks which our country confronts. Because if there is someone wants to destroy the whole of this country, we need to know who that is!”144 Similarly, the government’s constant assurances that self-administration for the banovinas was imminent were largely detached from political reality.145 The government trudged stolidly through the first nine months of 1934 with the same stock phrases, virtually oblivious to the fact that the first five years of these slogans had utterly failed to create a country of contented Yugoslavs. In April 1934, Uzunović resigned, only to reemerge immediately at the head of a reshuffled cabinet. This exercise was almost as pointless as Srškić’s November 1932 resignation.146 Indeed, Uzunović’s manoeuvre harked back to his multiple governments of the late 1920s, thus embedding more deeply in the popular mind the sense that the country was drifting. Yet even now, civil unrest was found only on university campuses, where it was easily controlled. The autumn of 1933 had seen the gulf widen between the HSS and the rest of the political opposition. Albeit cautiously, both the SLS and the Radicals had encouraged their followers to participate in the elections. This signaled to the government that these parties were ready to negotiate a power-sharing deal. By the summer of 1934, the government felt confident enough to allow the transfer of Maček, whose health had badly deteriorated during his stay in the prison at Sremska Mitrovica, to a hospital near Zagreb. Meanwhile, Maček had retreated

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from his earlier principled stance against indirect negotiations with the king. The Croat lawyer and HSS member Ivan Šubašić had for several months acted as an intermediary between the Royal Court and Maček.147 Aleksandar, meanwhile, had apparently accepted French advice to adopt a more flexible attitude towards the HSS leader. In May, he had informed Henderson that he would be extending more political autonomy to the banovinas.148 Also, he had told Šubašić to inform Maček that the remaining measures restricting his movements would be lifted when he (the king) returned from France.149 Aleksandar also had plans to free Anton Korošec from detention in the very near future.150 According to the future Patriarch Gavrilo, the king had told him that “as soon as I return from France, I will do everything that is necessary to form a Royal government from all former political groups or parties, respectively, which have until now been in opposition. On that level I have received several confirmations which have encouraged me.” He further stated that the Croat sculptor Ivan Meštrović had agreed to act as an intermediary between the Royal Court and Maček.151 In early October, King Aleksandar sailed for France on the royal ship Dubrovnik. His spirits were high. September had found him once again playing the statesman. His visit to Bulgaria had been a success, building on the rapport he had established with King Boris during the latter’s visit to Belgrade in December 1933. Although many details remained to be worked out, a lasting peace seemed within reach for two Balkan neighbours that had gone to war with each other four times in less than half a century. Aleksandar’s statesmanship had won accolades even from those who disapproved of how Yugoslavia was being governed. In sum, the king had good reason to feel confident as he sailed to France, his closest ally. Although the king bristled at the notion – frequently heard at home and abroad – that Yugoslavia was a mere satellite of France, he did not disguise his admiration for the French state.152 The king, who spoke fluent French, had fond memories of the alliance that France and Serbia had forged on the battlefields of the First World War against the Central Powers. Now he would receive a hero’s welcome at Marseille, with Louis Barthou, the French Foreign Minister and former president, greeting him at the harbour. From there, they would drive through the town, welcomed by cheering crowds. After the visit to Marseille, Aleksandar planned to continue on to Paris for meetings with French officials to discuss matters of common interest, which included the Franco-Soviet rapprochement, the warm relations between Yugoslavia

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and Nazi Germany (which were intertwined, of course, with the problems of Italy and Austria), and Aleksandar’s efforts to forge a Balkan security pact.153 Aleksandar arrived in France on 9 October 1934. Barthou greeted his old friend with all the honours due a visiting head of state. After a brief ceremony at the harbour, the two statesmen took their seats in an open sedan. The vehicle began to drive leisurely towards the city hall, following the grand boulevard La Canabière. Only two blocks later, at the intersection of La Canabière and Rue Paradis, a man dashed through the thin security cordon and jumped onto the sideboard. The man was Veličko Georgi Kerin (aka Černozemski), an agent of the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization, who was working in cooperation with the Ustaša. Quickly, Kerin fired shots from his revolver into King Aleksandar. Before the king could receive medical treatment, he succumbed to his wounds. Barthou, sitting next to the king, was also wounded fatally, as were several bystanders. In a few stunning seconds, the terrorist forces of the Ustaša and the Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization had delivered a calamitous blow to Yugoslavia.154 King Aleksandar’s advisers immediately claimed that his dying words had been “Čuvajte mi Jugoslaviju!” (Preserve My Yugoslavia!). On 10 October, the Yugoslav government issued a proclamation to the “Yugoslav people” quoting those words as the “testament” of the “martyr king.”155 Conclusion Contemporaries of the period as well as historians have over the years speculated about the direction Yugoslav politics would have taken had King Aleksandar not been assassinated. In any case, the circumstances of the king’s death contributed to a curious situation in which virtually all political parties could later claim that they were acting as the king would have wanted. Perhaps most plausible is Ljubo Boban’s assertion that the king’s flirtations with the opposition in 1933 and 1934 suggest that “in the new situation as well [i.e. after the release of Maček and Korošec from detention], the king’s interest was to preserve as much as possible of the old regime.”156 The country’s attitude during the period of “constitutionalism” could well be described as a holding pattern. Increasingly, it seemed only a matter of time before the government – and hence its ideology – would have to make substantial concessions to the opposition. Against this

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stubbornness, the state never managed to find firm footing. Repression only provoked more dissent, and cautious offers of compromise quickly resulted in strong demands for increased autonomy. In the Yugoslav case, this in turn provoked accusations of treason and separatism. The state’s ideology of integral Yugoslavism showed few signs of taking root among the people. The regime’s propaganda organs ceaselessly broadcast the same tired slogans of national and state unity, with little demonstrable effect. To both domestic and outside observers, Yugoslavism seemed moribund. In the words of the British minister in Belgrade, “The King is no longer a Serb but a Yugoslav, possibly the only genuine one as yet in the country.”157 Yet even the king proved unable to break his mould as a Serb soldier, and Serbian symbolism informed his rare pronouncements to the public. “In fact, the King identified himself too much with Serbia, with his Serbian soldiers – towards whom he harbored love and obligation – to be able to liberate himself from their influence, from their national belief, even from their mentality.”158 The opposition never managed to form a united front against the regime. The broadest gap was the one separating the SDK from the Serbian opposition parties, but both of these groupings were internally divided as well. As in the 1920s, King Aleksandar shared part of the blame for this. His covert overtures to the Serbian opposition parties, especially the Radicals, kept the Serbian opposition from agreeing on a common program. And as noted earlier, after Maček’s imprisonment the HSS (and to a lesser extent the SDS) considered such a joint agenda to be the prerequisite to any agreement with their Serb colleagues. The impact of the “electoral dictatorship” of 1931–4 on Yugoslavism was only slightly less harmful than that of the full dictatorship that had preceded it. The government’s tactic of asking people to “vote for Yugoslavia” had the unfortunate side effect of turning the elections into much more than political contests. In effect, every election became a plebiscite on Yugoslavia. And by crudely manipulating those elections, the state further devalued the concept of Yugoslavism.

Epilogue and Conclusion: “Preserve My Yugoslavia,” October 1934–May 1935

Soon after news of King Aleksandar’s death in Marseille had reached Belgrade, officials in the Yugoslav capital opened his testament. The king had written this document after the assassination attempt on him in Zagreb in December 1933.1 In it, he appointed three regents to govern the country until his firstborn son, Petar, still only eleven years old, reached legal age. The three men named were Aleksandar’s cousin Prince Pavle, Senator Radenko Stanković, and the ban of Sava Banovina, Ivo Perović. With the backing of General Petar Živković, Prince Pavle quickly emerged as the head of the triumvirate.2 On 22 October, Nikola Uzunović formed a new government. The only notable cabinet change was the return of Živković, this time as Army and Navy Minister. The regime intended to project a message of continuity and strength. The return of Aleksandar’s body to Yugoslavia provoked a sincere wave of mourning across the country. Ships of Britain’s Royal Navy accompanied the Dubrovnik to Split, where grief-stricken officials and commoners awaited. When the royal casket briefly passed through Zagreb, so many people showed up to pay their final respects that officials decided to prolong the viewing period.3 Archbishop Bauer “ordered bells to be tolled for three days and special prayers said in every parish church and the bells tolled again on the day of the funeral.”4 Newspapers across the country printed hagiographic articles, stories, and poems glorifying the life and deeds of the warrior king.5 Hundreds of organizations, societies, and associations, as well as countless individuals, sent their condolences to the Royal Court.6 The SLS leader, Anton Korošec, released from his detention on the Adriatic island of Korčula, publicly expressed his profound grief at the death of the king.7 A delegation of foreign statesmen, including Marshal Pétain

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of France and Luftwaffe General Göring, attended the state funeral in Belgrade. To be sure, not everyone grieved for King Aleksandar. The British Consul at Zagreb reported that there was resentment among Croats at the “branding of Croats as murderers, and feeling against Serbia is hardening in consequence.”8 Across the country, the authorities energetically prosecuted a whole series of cases involving individuals who had insulted the name and memory of the deceased monarch. Once again, there were false denunciations. In Čačak in Drina Banovina, the investigative apparatus swung into high gear against the daughter of the local artillery commandant, a Croat. According to rumours in the town, the girl had said that “her king” had not died, but rather a “Serb king.”9 During the interrogation, the accused defended herself by saying she had been talking with her friends, who claimed that a Croat had killed the king. She had interjected that she had “heard on the radio that a Bulgarian killed him. I also said that it is not correct that a Croat killed him, because Croats love our King as much as the Serbs do.”10 The authorities later disciplined a Serb student for slander and false denunciation.11 Government officials and the press solemnly repeated Aleksandar’s attributed last words and vowed to do all they could to preserve his legacy as the “Unifier” (Kralj Aleksandar I Ujedinitelj) as embodied in the manifesto of 6 January 1929 and the constitution of 1931. As the nation entered a prolonged period of mourning, a thick black band of sorrow adorned the ministries’ letterheads. The Union of Sokols printed the slogan “Čuvajte Jugoslaviju” on all correspondence, and the Yugoslav Teachers’ Association wrote to the Ministry of Education asking that school prayers be prefaced and concluded with the king’s last words.12 On 18 October 1934, King Aleksandar was laid to rest in the Karađorđević family crypt in Oplenac, where peasants had draped banners with the new mantra over ornate wreaths of sorrow leading into the village.13 Yet for the average Yugoslav citizen, very little changed in the months following the assassination. No moves were made to reduce the regime’s more oppressive measures, and no major reforms were introduced. Non-Serbs remained vulnerable to accusations of “tribalism.” The unity created by the king’s death proved fleeting; within weeks, the old controversies had resurfaced. The immediate catalyst was a memorandum to the regency signed by prominent politicians and intellectuals, most of them Croats, on 4 and 5 November 1934.14 The diverse signatories included several individuals, such as the artist Ivan

Epilogue and Conclusion  241

Meštrović, who were thought to have been close to the king.15 This document, which was leaked to the public in mid-November, became known as the Zagreb Memorandum.16 Its authors had intended it to be constructive.17 It listed several demands, including the exoneration of Maček, a large-scale amnesty, freedom of movement and public meetings for all, restrictions on the auxiliary police and paramilitary activities of Sokol and Chetnik organizations, free city and municipal elections, and better and more representative officials. Above all, the memorandum urged the regency to solve the “Croat question.” Adding to its impact, this memorandum came on the heels of a similar one from five opposition parties in late October.18 Meanwhile, the HSS had announced that it considered the political situation since the king’s death to be unconstitutional. However, the regency failed to react constructively to the memorandum. Much of the official press and many representatives of unitarist organizations treated it as tantamount to treason and as a sacrilege against the martyred king.19 In December 1934, Nikola Uzunović resigned as prime minister. Bogoljub Jevtić, the Foreign Minister in Uzunović’s cabinet and a relative of Živković, had outmanoeuvred him politically and now formed a new government. This marked the definitive end of the JNS, since its principal leaders now found themselves ushered off the scene. The new cabinet featured almost none of the old faces of the “Sixth of January” governments. However, Jevtić was as abrasive as Uzunović was bland, and he gradually alienated both friends and foes. The first to balk at his style were the leaders of the SLS and the JMO, who had been considering participating in the new government. Nonetheless, besides Jevtić’s aversion to the JNS, one positive feature initially distinguished his government – during its first weeks in office, it largely resisted the temptation to monopolize patriotism.20 This contrasted with the JNS’s tactic of automatically labelling the entire opposition as traitors. Still, the new government’s tactics clearly implied that loyal or “constructive” opposition members would realize it was in their interests to join the government. Two days after Jevtić formed his cabinet, the government pardoned Vladko Maček. This marked the beginning of another reluctant experiment in parliamentary democracy. The main opposition leaders had all been released from prison, and Politika and other major newspapers, which had earlier tended to either ignore or attack the government’s critics, now devoted at least some space to opposition rejoinders and counterattacks.21 Even so, the government was pursuing an increasingly

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corporatist vision of the state in which there was no room for opposition politics. Furthermore, the opposition remained alarmingly unable to forge any kind of joint front against the government. Rather, echoing the worst years of “parliamentary dictatorship,” each of the main opposition parties seemed chiefly concerned with positioning itself to be the first one accepted by the government as a coalition partner. The SLS, the Radicals, and especially the JMO naively suggested to the regency that they could “assume” power in place of the present government without dismantling the regime or reversing the ideals of 6 January 1929.22 Yugoslavism after Aleksandar After the death of “Aleksandar the Unifier,” unity remained the state’s highest priority. However, government officials found themselves admitting once again that no one quite knew what Yugoslavism meant. In a radio speech in March 1935, the Minister of Internal Affairs, Velimir Popović, dared to pose the question directly. He began by criticizing past governments for propagating the notion that the best Yugoslav was a good Croat, Serb, or Slovene. “That theory leads towards disunity. It seeks good parts, but not the whole; it seeks agreement of the parts, but not the unity of the parts. That is Yugoslavism in the spirit of centrifugal forces.” Instead, Popović posited that Yugoslavism, as an expression of the united national individuality does not recognize a good Serb, a good Croat, or a good Slovene. It recognizes only a good Yugoslav. But a good Yugoslav is one who in himself possesses and carries a Serb, a Croat, and a Slovene. Serbdom, Croatdom, and Slovenedom are equally dear to him and through himself he expresses all of them together. Those three tribal elements fuse and form one historical interest and one historical destiny, – Yugoslavism. The Yugoslav is not only a good Serb. Rather, that good Serb who is at the same time a good Croat and a good Slovene is a Yugoslav.23

Yet Popović’s formulation of this synthetic unitary Yugoslavism resolved none of the conflicts and biases inherent in state Yugoslavism as it had evolved since 6 January 1929. Most problematically, he ignored the fact that the modes of governance resorted to since 1929 – indeed, since 1918 – had themselves exerted centrifugal pressures that made fusing these three identities difficult if not impossible. If anything, centripetal forces were notable for their absence.

Epilogue and Conclusion  243

While the government struggled to define and wield “the Yugoslav thought,” Yugoslav ideologues were busy redefining and radicalizing it. The Sokol movement and Adriatic Sentinel continued to propagate their versions of it. For the most diehard ideologues of the Yugoslav thought, Aleksandar’s death was a call to action. Writing in 1934 on the day of national unification, 1 December, Viktor Novak had opined that seen through the prism of Yugoslav ideology, the historical work of King Aleksandar acquires its fundamental and primordial value. The very death of King Aleksandar breathes immortal life into the Yugoslav thought. Because for it the king ransomed his own valuable life, and with [his] blood he embodied the Yugoslav thought, that it might be victorious and eternally alive in Yugoslavia.

Quoting the king’s famous words to the Sokol movement on Vidovdan in 1930, Novak continued: The first and greatest Yugoslav served this idea, from cradle to grave. His death and His reliquaries have made Oplenac the first and holiest temple of the Yugoslav idea. Oplenac, the memorial of Karadorđe’s Šumadija, is the most wonderful Temple of the Yugoslav Thought. As a holy place of pilgrimage for Yugoslav thought it will fuse the hearts of all Yugoslavs in deed and in thoughts, connected with his inheritance, left behind in the testament of the entire Yugoslav kin: “Preserve Yugoslavia!”24

The king’s violent death was also an open invitation to Viktor Novak and other ideologues such as Milorad Dragić and Niko Bartulović to elaborate further on their cherished themes of blood and sacrifice. The blood of the “Vođa [Leader]” had been spilled. “Our entire nation instinctively and directly felt that the [assassin] sought to use the blood of King Aleksandar to draw the blood of our national and state life.”25 Taking a cue from such rhetoric and from the government’s corporatist agenda, restive militant groups such as Yugoslav Action argued vociferously for more authoritarian forms of governance. Especially among Chetnik organizations, these calls were combined with dire warnings of vigilante action against real and perceived internal enemies of the Yugoslav thought. On the deceased king’s birthday, 17 December 1934, the largest Chetnik organization in the country, Udruženja Četnika (Association of Chetniks), published the first issue of a new

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newspaper, Jugoslovenska straža (Yugoslav Sentinel).26 That issue invoked the legend of the Battle of Kosovo and was emblazoned with Yugoslav slogans, such as “from today on, only one national greeting exists for every Yugoslav: ‘Preserve Yugoslavia.’” The newspaper, and the Chetnik movement as a whole, became the voice of rage against internal enemies of the Yugoslav idea. In the coming years, the Chetnik organizations would launch a rabble-rousing vigilante campaign against anyone they deemed insufficiently Yugoslav. Especially in areas with mixed Serb and Croat populations, such as eastern Slavonia and Bosnia-Herzegovina, armed clashes between disorderly (and often intoxicated) Chetniks and Croat “tribalists” became daily events. The government watched this development with concern and reluctantly began to intervene. Local and banovina authorities shut down and disarmed dozens of these “patriotic” bands. But the attitude of the authorities remained mixed, and the Chetnik movement managed to survive and even grow until the Second World War, when it would play a new and far bloodier role.27 While the “national associations” amplified their ideological fervour after Aleksandar’s death, non-Serbian political parties and organizations tugged in the opposite direction. This manifested itself in January 1935, when the Yugoslav government placed special emphasis on the controversial St Sava Day celebration. That year marked the seven hundredth anniversary of St Sava’s death, and the patriarchate of the Serbian Orthodox Church had proclaimed the entire year to be a year of St Sava (svetosavska godina). This time, the main resistance came from Archbishop Ante Bauer, who decreed that Roman Catholic children should not participate in the festivities. As Reis-ul-Ulema Džemaludin Čaušević had done in 1930, Bauer phrased his objections to the celebrations carefully and within the language of state Yugoslavism. As always, the state’s position on the holiday was contradictory. Inadvertently, the Serbian Orthodox Church had undermined the ecumenical arguments of the Yugoslav authorities. In an article in which he vehemently denied that the Serbian Orthodox Church was trying to force the non-Orthodox to celebrate St Sava’s jubilee, Bishop Nikolaj of Novi Sad agreed completely that the patriarchate put the holiday “neither into the frame of the Balkans, nor of Yugoslavism, but has rather put it only into the frame of Serbian Orthodoxy.”28 Relations between the Roman Catholic Church and the Yugoslav state remained tense in the coming years. The perennial issue of a concordat between the

Epilogue and Conclusion  245

Vatican and the Yugoslav state found no resolution. Without question, this greatly harmed Serbo-Croat relations. On 7 February 1935, the Yugoslav regency issued a declaration dissolving the Skupština and calling new elections for 5 May. The electoral system would be the slightly liberalized but still restrictive model used for the local elections of 1933. Over the next three months, Jevtić’s government systematically toughened its stance against the opposition. It unabashedly donned the patriotic mantle of the martyr king, proclaiming that it was the duty of all Yugoslavs to vote for the government’s list.29 The government fully availed itself of the security apparatus to manipulate the elections in the manner of its predecessor. As in 1933, the government underestimated the opposition’s resolve. Bogoljub Jevtić led the government list, just as Živković had done in the “elections” of November 1931. Jevtić was shocked when the Democratic Party leader Ljubomir Davidović and Jovan Jovanović of the Serbian Agrarians formed an alliance with the Peasant-Democratic Coalition, the Slovene People’s Party, and the Yugoslav Muslim Organization. This coalition became known as the Udružena Opozicija (Associated Opposition, or UO). Vladko Maček of the Croat Peasant Party led the list. Prince Regent Pavle proved deaf to Jevtić’s pleas that the opposition be prevented from forming an electoral list. In April 1935, the Yugoslav courts validated both Jevtić’s list and that of the UO.30 The courts also approved two other lists: those of the former ministers Dimitrije Ljotić and Božidar Maksimović.31 By mid-February, it seemed that multiparty elections would take place in May. Jevtić and the government responded with repressive measures. The press, still muzzled, did not cover the opposition until after the courts had recognized its existence in April, whereas Jevtić’s list began enjoying coverage as soon as the elections were called. The police and the rest of the security apparatus expanded their operations throughout the late winter and early spring. On at least one occasion, near Slavonski Brod, police actions led to an armed confrontation in which several peasants died.32 Sensing the danger, the HSS urged its own followers to arm themselves with whatever implements were necessary.33 The month before the elections, Jevtić’s government abandoned its earlier inhibitions about completely appropriating Yugoslav ideology. Government propaganda claimed that only Jevtić and his ministers were the legitimate heirs to Aleksandrovska Jugoslavija (Aleksandrine

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Yugoslavia)34 and that they were fighting more than the UO. Indeed, Jevtić’s opponents were the udruženi neprijatelji narodne celine (associated enemies of the national whole).35 The government enveloped itself in the slogan Čuvajte Jugoslaviju and presented the voters with a loaded choice between “Oplenac” and “Janka Puszta.”36 From this point, it was but a small and logical step to a repetition of the mistakes of the 1931 and 1933 elections. Followers of Jevtić distributed provocative leaflets such as one depicting Vladko Maček in a Habsburg uniform. A Yugoslav nationalist surrounded by the dates “1915[sic] –1918” hung from a gallows in the background of the caricature, and the caption warned starkly that “if you want the demise of the Yugoslav nation then vote on 5 May for the Austro-Hungarian officer Vladko Maček … Ljubo Davidović, former prime minister, is also in the company of the enemies.”37 The UO countered by distributing a leaflet asking people to vote for freedom. The UO, they claimed, “preserves state and national unity and seeks the fundamental rights of the people: freedom of association, press, and negotiation.”38 There were reports of rallies at which ethnic tensions surfaced. At one election rally in Gaboš in eastern Slavonia, Žarko Tomašević, who was Jevtić’s nominee for the next Foreign Minister, told voters that “whether you want to vote for me or not, I am the representative for the district of Vukovar. Let there be no doubt that the voice of Žarko Tomašević will be heard in the middle of Zagreb, where I will openly tell the Croats: I am going to f–– your Croat mother.” The report of complaint filed with the local authorities continued by noting that “in the name of the assembled people Dušan Čirić, a farmer from Gaboš, protested with the words: ‘You, Tomašević, want to sow discontent among Serbs and Croats. But we are brothers and we Serbs and Croats want to live together in love.’ This behaviour of Dušan Čirić barely succeeded in calming the excited crowd, which saw off Mr. Žarko Tomašević with bitterness because of his unworthy provocation of hatred among the brother Serbs and Croats.”39 The elections of 5 May 1935 were held in this supercharged atmosphere. In the event, despite the government’s crude manipulation of electoral procedures, there were only isolated incidents of violence.40 When the results were released, the government claimed a 72.6 per cent turnout, with 62.6 per cent voting for the government list and 35.4 per cent for the UO.41 The opposition immediately cried foul play. Amidst growing political chaos, the government revealed “revised” results showing a 73.7 per cent turnout, with the government carrying

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60.6 per cent of the votes to 37.4 per cent for the UO. In the heartland of the SDK, the government had to admit to a UO victory of 797,197 votes to the government’s 520,144.42 These results undoubtedly still exaggerated the government’s victory. Moreover, supporters of the opposition, as well as Catholic officials such as Archbishop Bauer, forwarded complaints about electoral abuses and irregularities to PrinceRegent Pavle.43 No one could doubt that the government’s victory was Pyrrhic. Following this deplorable performance, Jevtić’s problems multiplied. In early June, the UO announced that it would be boycotting the new parliament. On 20 June, several of Jevtić’s own ministers resigned when he bungled his handling of a Serb parliamentary deputy who blamed all Croats collectively for the assassination of King Aleksandar. One of the ministers who resigned, the ambitious Finance Minister Milan Stojadinović, immediately formed a new government, thus launching a new phase in Yugoslav politics. Stojadinović was a gifted politician, but his two increasingly authoritarian governments over the next four years failed to broker a crucial political compromise between the Serbs and the Croats. Conclusion The failure of King Aleksandar’s dictatorship and its Yugoslav ideology was in many ways overdetermined. By 1921, the Vidovdan Constitution had deeply divided the country, leading many observers to doubt the viability of Yugoslavia as a state.44 In 1929, after a decade of ongoing parliamentary crises and an assassination on the floor of the national parliament, the regime made an ambitious attempt to impose a single overarching identity on a society that had come perilously close to collapse. The king had poor material with which to work, and in forming his first dictatorial government, he chose unwisely. In the ideological realm, the regime never managed to create a truly synthetic Yugoslav identity that would be palatable to Yugoslavia’s diverse peoples. Almost without exception, state officials responded in a confused, contradictory, and repressive manner to everyday challenges to the state’s ideology and authority. After the whirlwind of decrees and ideological flourishes of the dictatorship’s first year, the regime seemed to run out of ideas, instead recycling failed measures and eschewing reform in favour of repression.45 The dictatorship’s introduction of pseudo-parliamentary governance in 1931 succeeded only in exposing

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the deepening fissures in Yugoslav society, and the repetition of the same tired slogans did little to conceal the discord. The state’s ideology remained, in the end, Yugoslav-cum-Serbian. As such, it satisfied neither the Serbs nor the non-Serbs of Yugoslavia. The state’s heavy-handed attempts to foist this brand of Yugoslavism on the population had counterproductive and ultimately centrifugal consequences for the country’s unity. Separated by accumulated real and perceived political and socio-economic grievances, the citizens and especially the leaders of the peoples of Yugoslavia proved incapable of seeing themselves and one another as one common nation. That Yugoslavism’s failure was overdetermined, however, should not dissuade us from examining how and why it failed. This book has cast light on the emergence of a large and pervasive police state, the presence of which the previous historiography had noted but never troubled itself to analyse. By exposing previously hidden accounts of resistance, this study has demonstrated that ordinary Yugoslav citizens showed remarkable ingenuity in resisting the dictatorship. By locating and describing crucial battles for and against a unitary Yugoslav identity, it is possible to link the emergence of authoritarian forms of governance and surveillance to later periods of Yugoslav history. In political matters, the dictatorship’s key problem – a perennial one in modern Yugoslav political history – was that any criticism, however well-intended, was labelled as seditious. As British Ambassador Nevile Henderson pointed out in his annual report for 1933, one of the “major defects” of the dictatorship was “that under it all opposition must either remain a passive spectator of misgovernment or be denounced as treasonable if it criticises or rebellious if it actively protests.”46 This flaw in the political system often exacerbated the state’s difficulties in fostering Yugoslav ideology. The dogma of Yugoslavism was intertwined with the interests of the state – or rather with the interests of the politicians controlling the state. Compounding the problem, politicians and ideologues never presented a clear and attractive version of what Yugoslavism might offer the various “tribes” of Yugoslavia. Instead, state Yugoslavism increasingly resembled an oppressive tautology. The authorities decided who was a Yugoslav, and any erstwhile Yugoslav who criticized any aspect of the government must by definition be a “tribalist” or a “foreign agent” – two concepts inextricably linked in the state’s vocabulary. This was all the more so if the critic happened to be a Croat, a Slovene, a Muslim, or a member of any national minority. Over people’s daily lives hovered a vast and often

Epilogue and Conclusion  249

incompetent, corrupt, and under-resourced surveillance apparatus. Schoolteachers, bureaucrats, police, and other state officials were attempting to move the population towards a Yugoslav ideal that neither King Aleksandar nor his ministers ever articulated precisely. At all times, the recipe for this unitary Yugoslav society remained more proscriptive than prescriptive. This had severely detrimental effects on the political and civil rights of all Yugoslav citizens, including Serbs. In this deeply unjust political system, many who viewed themselves as under siege by the state appropriated the language of state Yugoslavism in their resistance. Hiding behind the cloak of a newly “acquired” Yugoslav identity, they attempted to defend themselves against accusations that they were “tribalists.” The most ingenious (and foolhardy) individuals criticized the state by exploiting the ambiguities in official Yugoslav ideology. Even when the regime realized that individuals were abusing the regime’s ideology and laws for personal gain, it acted “too little and too late” to thwart such practices. At the same time, on all sides a growing portion of the population rejected Yugoslavism and grew more receptive to proto-fascist nationalist ideas. And among those clinging to the ideal of a Yugoslav society based on equal rights and representation for all identities, communism appeared increasingly attractive. The dictatorship in Yugoslavia was part of a general turn away from democracy in interwar Eastern Europe, where only Czechoslovakia retained fragile democratic rule. Some states, such as Poland, turned to dictatorship earlier than Yugoslavia, and all states incorporated centralization and nationalization into their agendas. Yet King Aleksandar’s Yugoslav project was the only one that from the outset devoted a central place to ideology, insisting that past ethnic identities be replaced by one state-sponsored identity. This enormously ambitious goal, never clearly formulated, proved no match for entrenched political and ethnic interests. Corrupt and often woefully incompetent and under-resourced bureaucrats and law enforcement personnel could not achieve the regime’s authoritarian and at times totalitarian ambitions. The failure of King Aleksandar’s regime thoroughly discredited the idea of a centralizing and nationalizing project in Yugoslavia. Although it is beyond this study to prove so, it seems highly plausible that the spectacular failure of state Yugoslavism during the interwar period contributed greatly to the strong aversion to such an endeavour in socialist Yugoslavia. The years of King Aleksandar’s dictatorship were formative ones for Josip Broz Tito and other leading communists in

250  Making Yugoslavs

the post-1945 state. In November 1943, the Antifašističko vijeće narodnog oslobođenja Jugoslavije (Anti-Fascist Council of the People’s Liberation of Yugoslavia, or AVNOJ) revealed the outlines of the future socialist Yugoslav state. It granted concessions to regional and national identities, and it promised to avoid the “bourgeois nationalisms” and “Serb hegemony” of the interwar years. Except briefly, Tito refrained from trying to create a Yugoslav nation. Indeed, socialist Yugoslavia would in the long run even sponsor the creation of national identities among the Macedonians and the Bosnian Muslims-cum-Bosniaks. Yet Tito and his associates never did resolve a chronic tension between the two principles in the socialist Yugoslav state’s ubiquitous slogan of bratstvo i jedinstvo (brotherhood and unity). Confronted with rising nationalism and the contradictions and weaknesses of official policies on national identity, the socialist Yugoslav regime resorted to a mixture of decentralization and police repression. In the end, this proved just as unsuccessful as had Aleksandar’s tactics. In the years leading up to the violent collapse of socialist Yugoslavia, a striking number of themes from the period of King Aleksandar’s dictatorship came to the fore once again. As the hold of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia weakened, the voices of exclusivist interwar ideologues came to be heard. This was especially the case in Serbia, where a younger generation of historians began to break with the communist historiography’s standard portrait of the interwar period. These younger historians, accompanied by many opportunistic converts from socialist historiography, began to “rehabilitate” Serb nationalism.47 In their accounts, Serbs had been victimized not only in socialist Yugoslavia but also in pre-war Yugoslavia, including during the dictatorship of King Aleksandar. Partly in reaction to this development, and partly owing to analogous processes, many historians in the other Yugoslav republics heeded the siren call of nationalist historiography. Such voices could also be heard with growing frequency in the Yugoslav political arena in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Thus, the rhetoric of Serb nationalists regarding the perceived plight of Bosnian and Croatian Serbs closely mirrored the 1928 debate about “amputation.” And the Bosnian Serb rhetoric of 1991–2, with its strident calls for self-defence in the face of perceived threats to Yugoslavism and Serbdom, mirrored that of Milan Srškić’s Glas Bosne. Similarly, the atavistic rhetoric of blood, victimization, and sacrifice played an increasingly large role in political discourse.48 It is not coincidental that in the years around 1991, both Serb and Croat nationalists sponsored reprintings

Epilogue and Conclusion  251

of nationalist tracts from the interwar period.49 Instead of internalizing the lessons of the interwar period, politicians and other national leaders blatantly repeated many of that era’s most disastrously counterproductive moves.50 State-sponsored efforts after 6 January 1929 to impose a unitary identity on the diverse Yugoslav population had two related malignant effects on the population. First, it drove them into a struggle against the new identity; second, it radicalized them within their own previously held identities. Both processes reinforced the hegemony of competing nationalist narratives and thereby further impeded any methodical attempt to solve the country’s grave socio-economic and political problems.51 Whereas state Yugoslavism’s proponents saw a hegemonic Yugoslav identity as a solution, others – for example, nationalist Croats and Slovenes – began to see the realization of their “national” goals in the same manner. In this sense, state Yugoslavism made a civil dialogue among the nations of Yugoslavia almost impossible to achieve. Moreover, it left the significant non-Slavic populations of Yugoslavia (above all ethnic Albanians) permanently branded as an “anational element” that the Yugoslav state neither intended nor desired to convert to the Yugoslav cause.52 The tragedy of the regime was that, although it administered a strong slap to the face of the people of Yugoslavia (including its politicians), it failed to dispel the misperceptions that had for so long plagued the country. Thus, Croats and other non-Serbs continued to believe they lived under “Serb hegemony” and found plenty of anecdotal evidence to support such assertions. Many Serbs saw themselves as sacrificing much without receiving anything in return and were disenchanted enough with this and with the dictatorship’s style of governance to drift away from Aleksandar and closer to a stronger and more exclusivist Serb nationalism. This became most evident in the rhetoric of the Serb Cultural Club, founded in the late 1930s. Yet there was precious little evidence to support either this view or the later thesis that the dictatorship had turned Serbs into “prisoners” of Yugoslavia.53 Finally, even those – Serbs and non-Serbs – who truly embraced integral Yugoslavism turned to increasingly aggressive and exclusivist ideologies after the death of Aleksandar. The Second World War would unleash many of these ideologies on a disastrous rampage. The level of state coercion, and the synergy between that coercion and official state ideology during King Aleksandar’s dictatorship, eclipsed anything previously seen in southeastern Europe. The regime’s

252  Making Yugoslavs

ham-handed and often brutal efforts to elicit active cooperation in the celebration of Yugoslav holidays and cultural activities often proved counterproductive. Thus, the regime created enemies of sceptics and sceptics of erstwhile believers. No single event caused Yugoslavism to fail. Rather, every day during this period, in a thousand different locations, the notion of a common Yugoslav identity lost currency as a consequence of abrasive encounters between the state and its citizens. The experiment of King Aleksandar’s dictatorship demonstrated the futility of trying to impose from above a unitary identity on an ethnically, culturally, and religiously diverse polity.

Notes

Introduction 1 For a survey of the literature on the dissolution of Yugoslavia, see Jasna Dragović-Soso, “Why Did Yugoslavia Disintegrate,” in State Collapse in South-Eastern Europe: New Perspectives on Yugoslavia’s Disintegration, ed. Jasna Dragović-Soso and Lenard J. Cohen (West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, 2008), 1–39. 2 Mark Biondich, “The Historical Legacy,” in Dragović-Soso and Cohen, State Collapse, 43–74; Ivo Banac, “Historiography of the Countries of Eastern Europe: Yugoslavia,” American Historical Review 97, no. 4 (October 1992): 1084–104. 3 This work thus adopts the periodization used by Todor Stojkov in his seminal work on the politics of the Yugoslav opposition during the dictatorship of King Aleksandar. Todor Stojkov, Opozicija u vreme šestojanuarske diktature, 1929–1935 (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1969). 4 In the literature on the topic, the ideological project to create a unitary Yugoslav identity is also frequently referred to as “integral Yugoslavism.” This work uses “integral Yugoslavism” and “unitary Yugoslavism” as synonyms. As employed here, “state Yugoslavism” refers to the statedriven attempt to create an integral or unitary Yugoslav identity. 5 Andrej Mitrović, Srbija u prvom svetskom ratu (Beograd: Stubovi Kulture, 2004); Jonathan E. Gumz, The Resurrection and Collapse of Empire in Habsburg Serbia, 1914–1918 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). 6 Some Yugoslav ideologues also viewed the Bulgars as a natural part of this Yugoslav amalgamation.

254  Notes to pages 6–7 7 This study focuses on how the South Slav peoples of Yugoslavia received a unitary Yugoslav identity. The non–South Slavic minorities will, therefore, feature only intermittently. 8 “In the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, the process of national formation of the Bosnian Muslims was, because of repressive state measures and the actions of Serb and Croat protagonists of assimilation and ‘nationalization,’ forcibly interrupted, but not destroyed.” Mehmedalija Bojić, Historija Bosne i Bošnjaka (Sarajevo: TKD Šahinpašić, 2001), 171. On Macedonia between the two world wars, see Andrew Rossos, Macedonia and the Macedonians: A History (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2008), 131–77; Vladan Jovanović, Jugoslovenska država i Južna Srbija, 1918–1929. Makedonija, Sandžak, Kosovo i Metohija u Kraljevini SHS (Belgrade: Belgrade: Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 2011); Vladan Jovanović, Vardarska banovina, 1929–1941 (Belgrade: Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 2011). 9 Ivo Banac, The National Question in Yugoslavia: Origins, History, Politics (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984), 406–16. 10 Elisabeth Bakke, Doomed to Failure? The Czechoslovak Nation Project and the Slovak Autonomist Reaction, 1918–1938 (Oslo: Department of Political Science, University of Oslo, 1998). 11 Irina Livezeanu, Cultural Politics in Greater Romania: Regionalism, Nation Building, and Ethnic Struggle, 1918–1930 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995). 12 Caroline Finkel, Osman’s Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire, 1300– 1923 (London: John Murray, 2005), 526–54; Renée Hirschon, Crossing the Aegean: An Appraisal of the 1923 Compulsory Population Exchange between Greece and Turkey (New York: Berghahn Books, 2003). 13 Anastasia N. Karakasidou, Fields of Wheat, Hills of Blood: Passages to Nationhood in Greek Macedonia, 1870–1990 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997). See also Mark Mazower, Salonica, City of Ghosts: Christians, Muslims, and Jews, 1430–1950 (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2005). 14 See, for example, Eugen Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen: The Modernization of France, 1870–1914 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1976). 15 To cite only a few of the most influential works: Banac, The National Question in Yugoslavia; Wolfgang Behschnitt, Nationalismus bei Serben und Kroaten, 1830–1914. Analyse und Typologie der nationalen Ideologie, Südosteuropäische Arbeiten (Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 1980); Milorad Ekmečić, Stvaranje Jugoslavije, 1790–1918, 2 vols. (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1989); Ivo Lederer, “Nationalism and the Yugoslavs,” in Nationalism in Eastern Europe, ed. Ivo Lederer and Peter Sugar (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1994).

Notes to pages 7–9  255 16 The political opposition during the royal dictatorship has received extensive treatment. Ljubo Boban, Kontroverze iz povijesti Jugoslavije: Dokumentima i polemikom o temama iz novije povijesti Jugoslavije, 3 vols. (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1987–90); Ljubo Boban, Maček i politika HSS, 1928–1941. Iz povijesti hrvatskog pitanja, 2 vols. (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1974); Tomislav Išek, Hrvatska seljačka stranka u Bosni i Hercegovini, 1929–1941 (Sarajevo: Institut za istoriju u Sarajevu, 1991); Atif Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija u političkom životu Srba, Hrvata i Slovenaca (Sarajevo: 1974); Stojkov, Opozicija; Jure Gašparič, SLS pod kraljevo diktaturo (Ljubljana: Modrijan, 2007). 17 On interwar Yugoslav foreign policy, see Branislav Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u evropskoj politici (Beograd: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002); François Grumel-Jacquignon, La Yougoslavie dans la stratégie française de l’Entre-deux-Guerres (1918–1935): Aux origines du mythe serbe en France (Bern: Peter Lang, 1999); Enes Milak, Italija i Jugoslavija: 1931–1937 (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 1987); Vuk Vinaver, Jugoslavija i Francuska između dva svetska rata (Da li je Jugoslavija bila francuski “satelit”) (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 1985); Vuk Vinaver, Jugoslavija i Mađarska 1918–1933 (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 1971); Vuk Vinaver, Jugoslavija i Mađarska 1933–1941 (Belgrade: Narodna knjiga, 1976). 18 Neither of the two most ambitious cultural histories focuses in any detail on King Aleksandar’s dictatorship, and Andrew Wachtel’s cultural history barely acknowledges that any significant change took place in Yugoslavia in 1929. Ljubodrag Dimić, Kulturna politika Kraljevine Jugoslavije 1918–1941, 3 vols. (Belgrade: Stubovi kulture, 1996–7); Andrew Wachtel, Making a Nation, Breaking a Nation: Literature and Cultural Politics in Yugoslavia (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998). 19 For an overview of administrative structures in Yugoslavia prior to 1929, see Sabina Ferhadbegović, Prekäre Integration: Serbisches Staatsmodell und regionale Selbstverwaltung in Sarajevo und Zagreb, 1918–1929 (Munich: R. Oldenbourg, 2008). 20 On the historical use of the term “Southern Serbia” and the related term “Stara Srbija” (Old Serbia), see Jovanović, Jugoslovenska država i Južna Srbija, 7–9. On Macedonia, see Andrew Rossos, Macedonia and the Macedonians. 21 “Jugoslavija,” Enciklopedija Jugoslavije, vol. 4 (Zagreb: 1960), 596. 22 Banac, The National Question, 49. 23 Banac, The National Question, 59. 24 Banac, The National Question, 58.

256  Notes to pages 9–15 25 Momčilo Isić, Seljaštvo u Srbiji, 1918–1941, vol. 1: Socijalno-ekonomski položaj seljaštva (Belgrade: Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 2000), 37. 26 For a detailed portrait of socio-economic conditions in Serbia from 1918 to 1941, see Marie-Janine Calic, Sozialgeschichte Serbiens, 1815–1941: Der aufhaltsame Fortschritt während der Industrialisierung (Munich: R. Oldenbourg, 1994), 213–440. 27 Jure Gašparič, SLS pod kraljevo diktaturo; Zlatko Hasanbegović, Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija 1929–1941 (Zagreb: Biblioteka Bosana, 2012); Vladan Jovanović, Vardarska banovina, 1929–1941. By contrast, Rossos completely neglects the impact of the dictatorship in his history of Macedonia. Rossos, Macedonia and the Macedonians. 28 See, for example, Article Three of the September 1931 constitution. “Ustav Kraljevine Jugoslavije,” Službene novine, god. XIII, br. 207 – LXVI, 9 September 1931, 1305–14. For a treatment of the taxonomy of the “official state” language in interwar Yugoslavia, see Dimić, Kulturna politika, Vol. 3, 372–410. 29 The case of the considerable Russian minority, which was largely composed of “White” Russian political and military émigrés who were present as “temporary guests” of the Yugoslav government, is a special one and deviates from that of “indigenous” minorities such as the Albanians and the Hungarians. Toma Milenković, Beloemigracija u Jugoslaviji: 1918–1941, vol. 1 (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 2006). Also unique is the case of Jews in interwar Yugoslavia, who often were culturally associated with the German or Hungarian minorities. Ivo Goldstein, Židovi u Zagrebu (Zagreb: Novi Liber, 2005). 30 As observed by the linguist Wayles Browne, almost any statement about the nature, composition, and geographical reach of the language(s) is contested. Wayles Browne, “Serbo-Croat,” in The Slavonic Languages, ed. Bernard Comrie and Greville G. Corbett (London and New York: Routledge, 1993), 306–8. For an incisive study of the break-up of Serbo-Croatian, see Robert D. Greenberg, Language and Identity in the Balkans: Serbo-Croatian and Its Disintegration (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). Chapter 1 1 Rogers Brubaker, Nationalism Reframed: Nationhood and the National Question in the New Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 7. 2 Brubaker, Nationalism Reframed, 13. 3 Jeremy King, “The Nationalization of East Central Europe: Ethnicism, Ethnicity, and Beyond,” in Staging the Past: The Politics of Commemoration

Notes to pages 15–18  257













in Habsburg Central Europe, 1848 to the Present, ed. Maria Bucur and Nancy M. Wingfield (West Lafayette: Purdue University Press, 2001), 113. 4 King, “The Nationalization,” 123. 5 It should be noted that in the nineteenth century, a whole discourse of classification also developed that distinguished between “nations” and “nationalities.” This distinction was of course also made later in Socialist Yugoslavia. 6 Brubaker, Nationalism Reframed, 7. 7 Robert D. Greenberg, Language and Identity in the Balkans: Serbo-Croatian and Its Disintegration (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). 8 Holm Sundhaussen, Geschichte Serbiens (Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 2007), 240. 9 The case of the Montenegrins is particularly difficult. For a recent examination of the question of the formation of Montenegrin identity, see Pieter Troch, “The Divergence of Elite National Thought in Montenegro during the Interwar Period,” Tokovi istorije 1–2 (2008): 21–37. For a sophisticated study of the formation of identity in the Macedonian hinterland surrounding Thessaloniki, see Anastasia N. Karakasidou, Fields of Wheat, Hills of Blood: Passages to Nationhood in Greek Macedonia, 1870–1990 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997). 10 The following section is based on Wolf Dietrich Behschnitt, Nationalismus bei Serben und Kroaten, 1830–1914: Analyse und Typologie der nationalen Ideologie. Südosteuropäische Arbeiten (München: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 1980), 44–53. 11 Behschnitt, Nationalismus, 47. 12 Behschnitt, Nationalismus, 49–53. 13 Behschnitt, Nationalismus, 51. 14 Behschnitt, Nationalismus, 52. 15 Behschnitt, Nationalismus, 52. 16 The very terminology employed for these uprisings is, of course, teleological. The rebellion known as the First Serb Uprising was at its outset social, not national in character, and was not aimed against the Ottoman Empire. Barbara Jelavich, History of the Balkans: Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 197. 17 On Garašanin, see Behschnitt, Nationalismus, 54–64; Ivo Banac, The National Question in Yugoslavia: Origins, History, Politics (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984), 82–4; David MacKenzie, Ilija Garašanin: Balkan Bismarck (Boulder: East European Monographs, 1985). 18 Banac, The National Question, 79–85. Behschnitt also observes a paucity of Serb intellectuals supporting Yugoslavism. Behschnitt, Nationalismus, 233.

258  Notes to pages 18–19









The štokavian dialect is the dominant among three major dialects (the other two being čakavian and kajkavian) in the territory of present-day Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, and Montenegro. The dialects are named after their distinct terms for the interrogative pronoun “what.” Within štokavian, there are in turn three dialects: ekavian, ikavian, and ijekavian, named after their versions of the old Slavic vowel jat’. Greenberg, Language and Identity, 32–41. 19 Banac, The National Question, 105. 20 Arnold Suppan, “Yugoslavism versus Serbian, Croatian, and Slovene Nationalism,” in Yugoslavia and Its Historians: Understanding the Balkan Wars of the 1990s, ed. Norman M. Naimark and Holly Case (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2003), 119. 21 Peter Vodopivec, “Slovenes and Yugoslavia, 1918–1991,” EEPS 6, no. 3 (Fall 1992): 224. 22 Quoted in Vodopivec, “Slovenes and Yugoslavia,” 221. 23 Carole Rogel, “The Slovenes and Political Yugoslavism on the Eve of World War I,” East European Quarterly 4, no. 4 (1971): 408–418. 24 Cankar’s speech in 1913 was one such exception. Rogel, “The Slovenes,” 417. 25 This view was, however, not shared by the small group of Slovene Liberals, whose Yugoslavism had decidedly pro-Russian and anti-Austro-German elements. The Slovene Liberals’ affinity for the highly conservative Russian Empire must be understood in relation to the pro-Austrian attitude of their Clerical rivals. Rogel, “The Slovenes,” 409–10, 413. 26 Rogel, “The Slovenes,” 418. 27 The “Illyrian Provinces” was the name given by Napoleon to those South Slavic territories incorporated by France through the Treaty of Schönbrunn in 1809. On cultural Illyrianism, see Elinor Murray Despalatović, Ljudevit Gaj and the Illyrian Movement (New York: Columbia University Press, 1975). 28 Banac, The National Question, 85–9; Mirjana Gross, Povijest pravaške ideologije (Zagreb: Institut za hrvatsku povijest, 1973). 29 Banac, The National Question, 89. 30 William Tomljanovich, Biskup Josip Juraj Strossmayer: Nacionalizam i moderni katolicizam u Hrvatskoj (Zagreb: Dom i svijet, 2001). 31 Mirjana Gross, “Croatian National-Integrational Ideologies,” Austrian History Yearbook 15 (1979), 4. 32 Gross, “Croatian National-Integrational Ideologies,” 8. 33 Gross, “Croatian National-Integrational Ideologies,” 22.

Notes to pages 19–22  259 34 Behschnitt, Nationalismus, 232, 234. See also Marko Prelec, “The Origins of Yugoslav Revolutionary Politics: The Nationalist Youth among the Habsburg South Slavs, 1908–1914,” PhD diss., Yale University, 1997. 35 Banac, The National Question, 95–8; Mark Biondich, Stjepan Radić, the Croat Peasant Party, and the Politics of Mass Mobilization, 1904–1928 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000), 94–6. 36 Banac, The National Question, 98. 37 Banac, The National Question, 99. 38 This discussion is based on Mark Biondich’s chapter, “Radić, Croatianism, Yugoslavism, and the Habsburg Monarchy,” in Biondich, Stjepan Radić. 39 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 93. 40 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 100. 41 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 100. 42 Quoted in Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 112. 43 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 113. 44 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 118. 45 Banac, The National Question, 90–1; Ðorđe Stanković, Nikola Pašić i jugoslovensko pitanje (Belgrade: Beogradski izdavačko-grafički zavod, 1985), vol. I. 46 Dragoljub Živanović, “Serbia and Yugoslavia: Past, Present and Future,” in Serbia’s Historical Heritage, ed. Alex N. Dragnich (Boulder: East European Monographs, 1994), 54. 47 Banac, The National Question, 104. 48 Charles Jelavich, “South Slav Education: Was There Yugoslavism?”, in Naimark and Case, eds., Yugoslavia and Its Historians, 95. See also Charles Jelavich, South Slav Nationalisms: Textbooks and Yugoslav Union before 1914 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1990). 49 Jelavich, “South Slav Education,” 98. 50 Branislav Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima za nacionalno oslobođenje (Belgrade: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002), 352. Speaking to R.W. Seton-Watson three years later, Aleksandar repeated his gratitude to Russia but assured Seton-Watson that Serbia “has not the slightest intention of becoming a mere Russian province.” Hugh Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson and the Yugoslavs, Correspondence 1906-1941, vol. I (London: British Academy, 1976), 194. 51 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 377–8. On the role of Serb intellectuals in the creation of the Yugoslav state, see Ljubinka Trgovčević, Naučnici Srbije i stvaranje jugoslovenske države, 1914–1920 (Belgrade: 1986). On Cvijić, see Radomir Lukić, Naučno delo Jovana Cvijića:

260  Notes to pages 22–4













Povodom pedesetogodišnjice njegove smrti (Beograd: SANU, 1982); Milorad Vasović, Jovan Cvijić: Naučnik – javni radnik – državnik (Novi Sad, 1994); Sundhaussen, Geschichte Serbiens, 191–94; on Belić, see Aleksandar Belić, Osnovi istorije srpskohrvatskog jezika: Univerzitetska predavanja (Beograd: Naučna knjiga, 1976); on Nikola Velimirović, see R. Chrysostomus Grill, Serbischer Messianismus und Europa bei Bischof Velimirović (St Ottilien: EOS Verlag, 1998). 52 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 46. 53 Sundhaussen, Geschichte Serbiens, 216. Sundhaussen calls this “the arguably most important turning point in Serbian history in the 19th and 20th centuries,” as “territorial expansion” received priority over internal “socioeconomic development.” 54 Stanković, Nikola Pašić i jugoslovensko pitanje, vol. I, 136. 55 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 354–5. Gligorijević argues that Aleksandar believed the division between Catholicism and Orthodoxy to be more significant than the distinctions between race or linguistic identity. However, Gligorijević does not furnish evidence for this assertion. 56 Ivo Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference: A Study in Frontiermaking (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1963), 4; Banac, The National Question, 116. 57 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 375–6; Banac, The National Question, 118–19. 58 Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 5. 59 Banac, The National Question, 121. 60 Nikola Pašić, Sloga Srbo-Hrvata (Beograd: Publikum, 1995). The historian Ðorđe Stanković, who edited and published Pašić’s tract, dates it to approximately 1887–9. 61 Pašić, Sloga Srbo-Hrvata, 43. In his third hypothesis, Pašić also espoused the theory that the Croats had forsaken their primordial Slavic identity by adopting Roman Catholicism. 62 Pašić, Sloga Srbo-Hrvata, 43. 63 Stanković, Nikola Pašić, vol. I, 89. Cf. Srećko Džaja, Die politische Realität des Jugoslawismus (1918­­–1991) (München: R. Oldenburg Verlag, 2002), 23. The important pre–First World War revolutionary Serb nationalist group Ujedinjenje ili smrt (Unification or Death), also known as the Black Hand, published a newspaper titled Pijemont (Piedmont); it was briefly and unwittingly funded in part by Crown Prince Aleksandar. Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 47–8. Cf. Mijo Radošević, Osnovi savremene Jugoslavije: Nova politika (Zagreb: 1935), 505.

Notes to pages 25–8  261 64 Stanković, Nikola Pašić, vol. I, 186. 65 Ivo Lederer’s brief portrait of Pašić is instructive. Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 91–3. 66 Slobodan Jovanović, Moji savremenici (Windsor, ON: 1962), 167. 67 Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 93. 68 Banac, The National Question, 118. 69 Pašić, Sloga Srbo-Hrvata, 43. 70 Banac, The National Question, 117. 71 Banac, The National Question, 69; Pašić, Sloga Srbo-Hrvata, 57. 72 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 192. 73 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 193; cf. Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 248. 74 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 194. 75 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 238. 76 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 239. 77 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 239. 78 Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 24. 79 Quoted in Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 379. 80 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 380. In fairness to Aleksandar, he may well have calculated that, for soldiers of the Serbian Army, the “liberation of Serbdom” held higher motivational potential than Yugoslav unity. 81 Dejan Djokić, Elusive Compromise: A History of Interwar Yugoslavia (London: Hurst and Company, 2007), 21. 82 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 384. Pašić was at this point labouring under the triple pressure of the loss of Russian support as that empire collapsed, the United States’ professed support for the principle of self-determination, and the declaration by South Slavs in the Austro-Hungarian parliament of support for South Slav unification “under Habsburg aegis.” Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 25; Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 352–53. 83 Sundhaussen, Geschichte Serbiens, 233. 84 Quoted in Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 422; Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 350–1. 85 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 384–7. 86 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 308. 87 “Serbia’s Choice,” The New Europe 8, no. 97 (22 August 1918), reprinted in Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 385–90; Jovan Cvijić to SetonWatson in Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 347–8. 88 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 353.

262  Notes to pages 28–9 89 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 363. 90 Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 41. 91 On the negotiations, see Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 47–9. 92 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 404. An invitation was to be issued to the Kingdom of Montenegro to join this new state. 93 Djokić, Elusive Compromise, 27. 94 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 347. 95 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 406. 96 Seton-Watson, R.W. Seton-Watson, vol. I, 365; Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 42. 97 Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 51. 98 Although Pašić was disgraced for the time being in the eyes of Aleksandar, the structure of the new state was centralized, in accordance with the Radicals’ wishes. At the 1919 Paris Peace Conference, where Pašić headed the Yugoslav delegation, the struggle between Pašić and Trumbić continued. “And, insofar as their personal quarrel often led to a split of delegation ranks into Serb and non[-]Serb elements, it foreshadowed the tragic conflict that overtook internal Yugoslav politics in the years to come.” Lederer, Yugoslavia at the Paris Peace Conference, 110. 99 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u ratovima, 436. 100 Banac, The National Question, 129–31. 101 Quoted in Banac, The National Question, 137. 102 Suppan, “Yugoslavism,” 117. 103 A considerable portion of the Croat peasantry viewed the collapse of the old regime as the inauguration of an uninhibited new era of peasant freedom. The most radical peasants and Habsburg Army deserters, colloquially known as the “zeleni kadar” (green cadre), resisted any attempts – Croat or Serb – to re-establish order, and launched attacks against landlords and Jewish, Hungarian, and German businessmen to expropriate “illegitimately” gained wealth. (Simultaneously, Serb peasants in Bosnia and Herzegovina executed similar attacks against Bosnian Muslim landlords.) Banac, The National Question, 127–31, 147; Ivo Goldstein, Hrvatska 1918–2008 (Zagreb: Novi Liber, 2008), 18–20. 104 Banac, The National Question, 138. 105 The state officially bore the lengthy name “Kraljevina Srba, Hrvata i Slovenaca” (Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes) until 3 October 1929. In everyday usage, both officials and the population at large referred, for reasons of convenience, to the “Kraljevina Jugoslavija”

Notes to pages 30–3  263 (Kingdom of Yugoslavia). Following this colloquial pattern, this study uses the terms “Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes,” “Kingdom of Yugoslavia,” and “Yugoslavia” interchangeably for the pre-1929 period, except when referring to official documents and titles. As Dejan Djokić notes, “the paradox was that the centralists, who strongly opposed any territorial division of the country, wanted the state name to preserve the ‘tribal’ identities, while the anti-centralists, who argued for the protection of individual identities, preferred the name ‘Yugoslavia.’” Djokić, Elusive Compromise, 48. 106 Branko Petranović and Momčilo Zečević, eds., Jugoslavija 1918–1988: tematska zbirka dokumenata, 2nd ed. (Belgrade: Rad, 1988), 136–8. 107 This intervention prompted the Croat politician Josip Smodlaka to speak of a “coup d’état.” Goldstein, Hrvatska, 32. 108 This tendency is present in the historiography as well. Gligorijević thus brands Croat reluctance to enter into a joint kingdom “separatism” even before the state came into existence. 109 Sundhaussen, Geschichte Serbiens, 251–2. 110 Banac, The National Question, 216. 111 Branislav Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor (Belgrade: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002), 10–11, 19–20, 41. 112 Banac, The National Question, 145. 113 Banac, The National Question, 165. 114 Banac, The National Question, 155, 158–60. 115 Branislav Gligorijević, “Stvaranje prečanskog fronta u Hrvatskoj i političke posledice (1927–1941),” Jugoslovenski istorijski časopis, no. 1 (1997), 92. Olga Popović has shown that Stojan Protić, the first prime minister of the new state and the vice-president of the Radicals, took partial exception to this view. This stance contributed to his marginalization in the Radical Party. Olga Popović, Stojan Protić i ustavno rešenje nacionalnog pitanja u Kraljevini SHS (Belgrade: Savremena administracija, 1988). 116 Ðorđe Stanković, Sto govora Nikole Pašića: veština govorništva državnika (Belgrade: Rad, 2007), 42. 117 Banac, The National Question, 162–3; Stanković, Pašić i jugoslovensko pitanje, vol. I, 78–9. 118 Banac, The National Question, 166. 119 For a portrait of Svetozar Pribićević’s early intellectual and political development, and more generally on the development of Serbo-Croat relations in the late Habsburg Empire, see Nicholas Miller, Between Nation and State: Serbian Politics in Croatia before the First World War (Pittsburgh:

264  Notes to pages 33–5 University of Pittsburgh Press, 1997). On Pribićević’s politics during the first ten years of the Yugoslav state, see Hrvoje Matković, Svetozar Pribićević i Samostalna demokratska stranka do šestojanuarske diktature (Zagreb: Sveucilište u Zagrebu/Institut za hrvatsku povijest, 1972). 120 Banac, The National Question, 173. For an incisive short portrait of Pribićević, see Banac, The National Question, 170–3. 121 Banac, The National Question, 178. 122 Banac, The National Question, 219–24. 123 Branislav Gligorijević, “Organizacija jugoslovenskih nacionalista (Orjuna),” Istorija XX veka 5 (1963): 315–96; Ivan J. Bošković, ORJUNA: Ideologija i književnost (Zagreb: Hrvatska sveučilišna naklada, 2006). 124 Goldstein, Hrvatska, 65–8. The list of opponents identified by ORJUNA was broad, including even the entire city of Zagreb! ORJUNA was not an official organization but enjoyed close ties to the state. The main opponent of ORJUNA was the organization Hrvatska nacionalna omladina (Croat National Youth, or HANAO), which availed itself of the same brutal and proto-fascist methods favoured by ORJUNA. It had ties to the HRSS until approximately 1924. A third organization, Srpska nacionalna omladina (Serb National Youth or SRNAO) espoused a more narrowly Serb notion of identity. 125 Banac, The National Question, 169. This view also placed Protić in the minority, although Pašić earlier in his career had himself placed a premium on the notion of liberty. Stanković, Nikola Pašić, vol. I, 48. 126 Banac, The National Question, 167–8. 127 Protić, cited in Dejan Djokić, Elusive Compromise, 46. 128 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 45. 129 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 62–5. 130 On the rebellion, see Banac, The National Question, 248–60; and Bosiljka Janjatović, “Represija spram hrvatskih seljaka, 1918–1921,” Časopis za suvremenu povijest 25, no. 1 (1993): 25–43. Radić was in prison during the rebellion; his release was among the demands of the peasants. 131 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 68–9. 132 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 150. 133 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 172–3. Reflecting the separate historical and political legacies present in Dalmatia, the HPSS did not contest elections there. The strongest party in Dalmatia was the clericalist Croat People’s Party (Hrvatska pučka stranka, or HPS). 134 Banac, The National Question, 227. For complete election results see Banac, The National Question, 387–92. 135 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 160.

Notes to pages 35–7  265 136 Radić, quoted in Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 80–1. 137 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 161. 138 HRSS deputies, quoted in Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 162. 139 Radić, quoted in Banac, The National Question, 232. For a summary of police repression against the HPSS during this period, see Banac, The National Question, 240–1. 140 For overviews of the modern political and ideological development of the Slovenes, see Janko Prunk, Slovenski narodni programi. Narodni programi v Slovenski politični misli od 1848 do 1945 (Ljubljana: Založilo društvo 2000, 1986); Janko Prunk, Slovenski narodni vzpon. Narodna politika (1768–1992) (Ljubljana: Državna založba Slovenije, 1992). 141 On Slovenes in the early years of Yugoslavia, see Momčilo Zečević, Slovenska ljudska stranka i jugoslovensko ujedinjenje, 1917–1921: Od Majske deklaracije do Vidovdanskog ustava (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 1973). 142 For an overview of Korošec’s political career, see Janko Prunk, “Politični profil in delo dr. Antona Korošca v prvi Jugoslaviji,” Prispevki za novejšo zgodovino 31, no. 1 (1991): 35–53. Cf. Momčilo Zečević, “Neki pogledi u Srbiji na političku delatnost dr. Antona Korošca 1918–1940,” Prispevki za novejšo zgodovino 31, no. 1 (1991): 55–74. 143 Zečević, Slovenska ljudska stranka, 479. 144 Jurij Perovšek, Liberalizem in vprašanje slovenstva: Nacionalna politika liberalnega tabora v letih 1918–1929 (Ljubljana: 1996), 274. 145 In the words of the prominent SLS member Ivan Ahčin, “although the liberals were represented in Belgrade by only one or two [parliamentary] deputies – because more were not elected – this sufficed for the Serbs, so that they could say: look, Slovenes are represented in the government, too.” Bojan Godeša and Ervin Dolenc, eds., Izgubljeni spomin na Antona Korošca. Iz zapuščine Ivana Ahčina (Ljubljana: Nova Revija, 1999), 52. 146 For a comparative (but teleological) view of the development of Bosnian Muslim and Albanian identities, see Aydin Babuna, “The Bosnian Muslims and Albanians: Islam and Nationalism,” Nationalities Papers 32, no. 2 (2004): 287–321. 147 Ivo Banac, “Bosnian Muslims: From Religious Community to Socialist Nationhood and Post-Communist Statehood, 1918–1992,” in The Muslims of Bosnia-Herzegovina: Their Historic Development from the Middle Ages to the Dissolution of Yugoslavia, ed. Mark Pinson (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993); Atif Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija u političkom životu Kraljevina Srba, Hrvata i Slovenaca, 3rd ed. (Sarajevo: Bosanski kulturni centar, 1999).

266  Notes to pages 37–8 148 In response to this criticism, Minister of Internal Affairs Pribićević ordered Čaušević to apologize or risk forced retirement. In Pribićević’s opinion, Čaušević exaggerated the scale of the persecution that had taken place. Čaušević refused to apologize or retract his statements. Purivatra, Jugoslavenska, 63–4. 149 The word “pehlivan” was brought to Bosnia-Herzegovina by the Ottomans. It is originally of Persian origin. In Bosnia-Herzegovina it refers to tightrope walkers. However, in Turkish, it can mean either acrobat, wrestler, or hero. Abdulah Škaljić, Turcizmi u narodnom govoru i narodnoj književnosti Bosne i Hercegovine, 2nd expanded ed. vol. II (K–Ž) (Sarajevo: Bilten Instituta za proučavanje folklora u Sarajevu, 1957), 601. 150 The full name of the Cemiyet was Islam Muhafazai Hukuk Cemiyet (Society for the Preservation of Muslim Rights). 151 Babuna, “The Bosnian Muslims and Albanians,” 298. 152 Zlatko Hasanbegović, Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija 1929–1941 (Zagreb: Biblioteka Bosana, 2012), 22. 153 Nusret Šehić, Četništvo u Bosni i Hercegovini (1918–1941): Politička uloga i oblici djelatnosti četničkih udruženja (Sarajevo: Akademija nauka i umjetnosti Bosne i Hercegovine, 1971); Mustafa Imamović, Historija Bošnjaka, 2nd ed. (Sarajevo: Bošnjačka zajednica kulture Preporod, 1998), 489–91; Purivatra, Jugoslavenska, 36–8. 154 Mustafa Imamović, “Pravni položaj i organizacija Srpske pravoslavne crkve u Jugoslaviji, 1918–1941. godine,” Godišnjak Pravnog fakulteta u Sarajevu 41 (1998): 183. 155 This name emerged from the green colour of the candidates’ list for the Montenegrin nationalist candidates in the 1918 Montenegrin National Assembly elections. The pro-Serbian candidates, who appeared on a white list, consequently became known as the bjelaši (Whites). 156 Banac, The National Question, 286. 157 Andrew Rossos, Macedonia and the Macedonians: A History (Stanford: Hoover Institution Press, 2008), 135; Rodney Gallop, “Conditions in Macedonia,” submitted in Kennard to FO, “Situation in Serbian Macedonia,” 21 April 1926. AJ, f. 371, FO 371 11405, C 5022/101/92, frames 92ff. 158 Banac, The National Question, 321–8. 159 According to the census figures, the most numerous ethno-national minorities in Yugoslavia were the Germans (499,969 in 1931), the Hungarians (472,079 in 1921), the Albanians (441,740 in 1921), and the Romanians (72,654 in 1921). Ljubodrag Dimić, Kulturna politika Kraljevine Jugoslavije 1918–1941, 3 vols. (Belgrade: Stubovi kulture, 1996–7), vol. III, 8, 56, 91, 118. However, Joseph Rothschild provides the following figures from the

Notes to pages 39–40  267 1921 census: 505,790 Germans, 467,658 Hungarians, 231,068 Romanians and Vlachs, 439,657 Albanians, and 150,322 Turks. Rothschild, East Central Europe between the Two World Wars (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1974), 203. 160 From the perspective of Nikola Pašić, for example, a large number of the Albanians were actually Serbs whose ancestors had converted both religiously and nationally in order to survive Ottoman rule. Stanković, Nikola Pašić, vol. I, 112. 161 Zoran D. Janjetović, “Državnotvorne ideje Srba, Hrvata i Slovenaca o nacionalnim manjinama,” in Dijalog Povjesničara – Istoričara. Pečuh 20.–22. studenoga 1998, ed. Hrvoje Glavač, Igor Graovac, and Mile Bjelajac (Zagreb: Friedrich Naumann Stiftung, 2000), 174. 162 The consistently negative attitude taken by all interwar Yugoslav governments feeds strong suspicions that the minorities were undercounted in the 1921 and 1931 censuses. “Indeed, the official census reports on Albanians probably halved their number.” Banac, The National Question, 298. 163 See the chapter titled “Kaçaks and Colonists: 1918–1941,” in Noel Malcolm, Kosovo: A Short History (New York: NYU Press, 1998), 264–88. 164 For a solid treatment of the interwar Yugoslav economy, see Jozo Tomasevich, Peasants, Politics, and Economic Change in Yugoslavia (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1955). See also Marie Janine Calic, Sozialgeschichte Serbiens, 1815–1941: Der aufhaltsame Fortschritt während der Industrialisierung (Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 1994); Kemal Hrelja, Kako je živio narod: Bosna i Hercegovina (1918–1941) (Sarajevo: Bosanska knjiga, 1994); Milivoje Erić, Agrarna reforma u Jugoslaviji 1918–1941. god. (Sarajevo: Veselin Masleša, 1958). 165 Tomasevich further notes that “in no other area were the ruling groups as successful in this respect during the interwar period as in Serbia. But that cost the Serbian peasant his political liberty. Second, the ruling groups used the method of delaying the pressing issues of both political and economic nature, making in the meantime as much political capital out of them as possible.” Tomasevich, Peasants, 246, 249. See also the section on the “peasantry as an object of politics.” Tomasevich, Peasants, 249–61. 166 On the breakdown of the vote, see Banac, The National Question, 403; Branislav Gligorijević, Parlament i političke stranke u Jugoslaviji, 1919–1929 (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju – Narodna knjiga, 1979), 110. 167 Banac, The National Question, 403. 168 Jovanović, Moji savremenici, 184. In this and many other respects, Radić’s quixotic struggle against the early Yugoslav state parallels the young Pašić’s fight against the autocracy of the Obrenović dynasty.

268  Notes to pages 41–3 Chapter 2 1 With devastating empirical and analytical force, Olga Popović-Obradović shatters the myth, dominant until recently in Serbian historiography, of a “golden era” of parliamentary democracy in pre–First World War Serbia. Olga Popović-Obradović, Parlamentarizam u Srbiji od 1903. do 1914. godine (Belgrade: Službeni list SRJ, 1998). 2 Todor Stojkov, Opozicija u vreme šestojanuarske diktature, 1929–1935 (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1969), 16. 3 Mark Biondich, Stjepan Radić, the Croat Peasant Party, and the Politics of Mass Mobilization, 1904–1928 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000), 179. 4 Jozo Tomasevich, Peasants, Politics, and Economic Change in Yugoslavia (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1955), 243. 5 Branislav Gligorijević, “Uloga vojnih krugova u ‘rešavanju’ političke krize u Jugoslaviji 1924. godine,” Vojnoistorijski glasnik (1972): 174. 6 Branislav Gligorijević, Parlament i političke stranke u Jugoslaviji, 1919–1929 (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju – Narodna knjiga, 1979), 293. For a more detailed explanation of the flaws of the Vidovdan system, see 269–333. 7 Ivo Goldstein, Hrvatska 1918–2008 (Zagreb: EPH Liber, 2008), 59. 8 No official crowning ceremony was held for Aleksandar, as he did not desire it. Branislav Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u evropskoj politici (Beograd: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002), 178. 9 On the early development of the Radical Party and Serbian parliamentary politics, see Michael Boro Petrovich, A History of Modern Serbia, 1804– 1918, 2 vols. (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1976); PopovićObradović, Parlamentarizam u Srbiji; Andrei Shemiakin, Ideologiia Nikoly Pashicha: Formirovanie i evoliutsiia (1868–1891) (Moscow: Indrik, 1998); Gale Stokes, Politics as Development: The Emergence of Political Parties in Nineteenth-Century Serbia (Durham: Duke University Press, 1990). 10 Tomasevich, Peasants, 251–2. 11 Joseph Rothschild, East Central Europe between the Two World Wars (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1974), 217. 12 The KPJ was known as the Socijalistička radnička partija Jugoslavije (komunista) – Socialist Workers’ Party of Yugoslavia (Communist) until June 1920. On this topic, see Ivo Banac, “The Communist Party of Yugoslavia during the Period of Legality, 1919–1921,” in The Effects of World War I: The Class War after the Great War: The Rise of Communist Parties in East Central Europe, 1918–1921, ed. Ivo Banac (Brooklyn: East European Monographs, 1983), 188–230.

Notes to pages 43–7  269













13 Banac, “The Communist Party,” 199–202. 14 Goldstein, Hrvatska, 62. 15 Banac, “The Communist Party,” 203. 16 Goldstein, Hrvatska, 62. 17 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 173. 18 Goldstein, Hrvatska, 73. 19 Quoted in Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 179. 20 Goldstein, Hrvatska, 75; Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 188–9. 21 Radić fervently expected and hoped for a social revolution in Serbia that would topple the Radicals. Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 182. 22 The term “loyal opposition” here denotes that portion of the opposition – including the Democrats, the JMO, and the SLS – that accepted the Vidovdan Constitution but opposed the Radicals. 23 Rothschild, East Central Europe, 220. 24 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 194–5. 25 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 196–9. 26 Gligorijević, Parlament, 163. 27 In the context of Yugoslav politics in the 1920s, a “koncentraciona vlada” (concentrated government) refers to a multiparty coalition government of national unity. Frequently, the formation of such a government was portrayed as the only way of surmounting chronic partisanship. 28 Hrvoje Matković, Svetozar Pribićević i Samostalna demokratska stranka do šestojanuarske diktature (Zagreb: Sveučilište u Zagrebu/Institut za hrvatsku povijest, 1972), 146. Cf. Gligorijević, “Uloga,” 170. 29 Gligorijević, “Uloga,” 169. Gligorijević states that King Aleksandar made this assessment to representatives of the French government during his November 1928 visit to Paris. The original can be found in Bogdan Krizman, “Trumbićeva misija u inozemstvu uoči proglašenja šestojanuarske diktature,” Historijski pregled 3 (1962): 191. 30 Branislav Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka i politički odnosi u Kraljevini Srba Hrvata i Slovenaca. (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 1970), 379–80; Gligorijević, Parlament, 165. 31 “Opozicioni blok o rešenju krize,” Demokratija, 23 May 1924, 1. 32 Another voice calling for dictatorship was that of the Herzegovinian MP Matej Kordić, who suggested that King Aleksandar appoint Vojvoda Stepa Stepanović as the head of a government of generals, which would cooperate with the parliament and would last until 1927. AJ, 74-11-22-129ff., letter of Matej Petrov Kordić to King Aleksandar, 24 April 1924. 33 “Politička diktatura,” Demokratija, 4 May 1924, 1.

270  Notes to pages 47–9 34 “Pobedionosna akcija Demokratske Stranke na Dalmaciji,” Demokratija, 29 June 1924, 1. 35 Sir Alban reported growing republicanism in the country, even in the heart of Serbia, during the late spring of 1924. Sir A. Young to Mr. MacDonald at FO, 10 June 1924. AJ, f. 371, film 367, FO 371 9955, frame 111, C 9135/123/92. See also Sir A. Young to FO, “Political situation in Jugo-Slavia,” 8 July 1924. AJ, f. 371, film 367, FO 371 9955, frame 120, C 11282/123/92. 36 “Vlada harmonije,” Demokratija, 31 July 1924. Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 409. Hrvoje Matković speculates that the mounting financial pressures on the country forced King Aleksandar to extend a hand to the HRSS. Matković, Svetozar Pribićević, 151. 37 Branislav Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor (Belgrade: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002), 241. 38 Gligorijević, Parlament, 173. 39 “Lažni pojmovi,” Demokratija, 12 September 1924, 1. 40 Demokratija pointed out that the Radicals, seeking cover from an investigation into corruption, preferred to pay lip service to anti-corruption legislation even while they accused the drafters of that legislation of being “state destroyers.” “Da li je baš tako?,” Demokratija, 5 September 1924, 1. See also “Zakon protiv korupcije,” Demokratija, 13 September 1924, 1. 41 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 243. 42 Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 425. 43 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 244. 44 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 251. 45 Matković, Svetozar Pribićević, 157. 46 Davidović actively opposed elements within the Democratic Party who favoured exploiting connections with the Black Hand against the Court and the Radicals. Gligorijević, “Uloga,” 182. For more on the dubious role of the military in the crisis, see Bjelajac, Vojska, 245–6. Several government ministers applied for foreign visas in the wake of the resignation of Hadžić, thereby adding to rumours that the army was preparing the arrest and possible trial of government members for sedition. Sir Alban Young to FO, “Resignation of Jugoslav Minister of War,” 15 October 1924. AJ, f. 371, film 368, frame 9, FO 371 9956, C 16136/123/92. For the king’s self-justifying explanation of his role, see Gavrilo Dožić, Memoari Patrijarha srpskog Gavrila (Belgrade: Sfairos, 1990), 54–5. 47 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 254. 48 Sir A. Young to Mr. MacDonald, 16 October 1924. AJ, f. 371, film 368, FO 371 9956, C 16139/123/92, frame 17. Sir Alban added that the Italian

Notes to pages 49–51  271













Minister at Belgrade had stated that “it is not the case that the generals force the hand of the King: it is the King … who gives the lead to the generals. That is just the question which we are all asking ourselves.” 49 Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 423. 50 Mark Biondich argues that, in spite of vitriolic moments, Radić’s speech on 12 October “contained an underlying conciliatory tone and was in fact on the whole greeted favourably by Davidović’s government. The subsequent collapse of Davidović’s government had less to do with Radić’s speech than with the king’s determination to prevent the HRSS from participating in that cabinet at any cost.” Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 199. 51 Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 426, 431. 52 Gligorijević, “Uloga,” 183. 53 This group allegedly included Milan Srškić, who would become a leading figure in the governments of the royal dictatorship. Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 430–2. 54 The new obznana specifically cited Radić’s October statement as being treasonous. Gligorijević, “Uloga,” 183. A court decision on 12 January 1925 found that the arrests had been improper, but Radić himself was not released. On 14 March 1925, the Skupština invalidated the parliamentary mandates of the HRSS. 55 Sir A. Young to Mr. MacDonald, “Political situation in Jugoslavia,” 30 October 1924. AJ, f. 371, film 368, frame 43, FO 371 9956, C 16706/123/92. 56 It bears remembering that Radić himself was not operating in a vacuum. Within his own party, he was under constant pressure from a more radical and nationalist wing. At the same time, another wing sought compromise with the Radicals. Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 204–5, 210–11. 57 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 206. 58 Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 424. Note that Gligorijević does not repeat this assertion in his more recent biography of King Aleksandar. 59 Gligorijević, Parlament, 276–7. 60 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 250. 61 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 201; Sir A. Young to FO, “Results of Jugoslav elections,” 11 February 1925. AJ, f. 371, film 372, frames 153ff., FO 371 10792, C2220/199/92. 62 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 202. Dejan Djokić astutely observes that the state’s stance on the HRSS foreshadowed the period of the dictatorship, when political parties were officially banned but in fact persisted in their activities to a significant extent. Dejan Djokić, Elusive Compromise: A History of Interwar Yugoslavia (London: Hurst and Comlany, 2007), 61n76.

272  Notes to pages 52–4 63 Sir A. Young to Mr. MacDonald, “Political future of Jugoslavia,” 12 November 1924. AJ, f. 371, film 368, frame 70, FO 371 9956, C 17346/123/92. 64 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 203. 65 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 203. Ljubo Boban, in his book on the HSS politician Tomo Jančiković, argues that Radić did not drop any of the fundamentals of his program, but rather adjusted that program to fit the circumstances. Ljubo Boban, Dr Tomo Jančiković – HSS između zapadnih saveznika i jugoslavenskih komunista (Zagreb: Školska knjiga, 1996), 14. 66 Stjepan Radić, cited in Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpskohrvatski spor, 280. 67 In late May 1926, the Radicals expelled a group surrounding Ljuba Jovanović that had supported the opposition’s calls for anti-corruption legislation. 68 Telegram from Mr Kennard to FO, 5 April 1926. AJ, f. 371, film 375, frame 47, FO 371 11405, C 4170/101/92. 69 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 221–2. 70 Gligorijević, Parlament, 231. 71 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 295. 72 The term “fourth party” was used both in Yugoslavia and abroad for the pro-Court party that would supposedly emerge from factions of the existing parties. Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 475; Matković, Svetozar Pribićević, 206. 73 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 232. 74 Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 478. 75 “Bura u Narodnoj Skupštini,” Politika, 5 November 1927, 1. 76 This is not to suggest, however, that the system of taxation was rational or equitable. On the “extortionist” nature of taxation in interwar Yugoslavia, see Tomasevich, Peasants, 681–702. 77 “Bura u Narodnoj Skupštini,” Politika, 5 November 1927, 1. 78 Prečani (literally, the “people across” [the river]) refers to people from the formerly Habsburg areas. The term was perhaps predominantly used by Serbs, but during this period it appeared frequently in all media in the country and thus had common currency. Sometimes, however, it excluded Bosnia-Herzegovina, which had been under Habsburg control only from 1878 to 1918. 79 There are indications that King Aleksandar fomented discord between Davidović and Radić in an effort to prevent the formation of a united opposition front. Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 507. For the predominant reading of the “prečani front” in Serbian historiography, see Gligorijević, “Stvaranje.” Gligorijević argues that besides Croatia, Pribićević included

Notes to pages 54–7  273









Bosnia-Herzegovina, Vojvodina, Macedonia, and Montenegro in his definition of prečani. 80 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 229. Emphasis in original. 81 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 233. 82 Gligorijević, Parlament. 83 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 233. 84 Radić, quoted in Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 222. 85 Gligorijević, Parlament, 251. 86 “… g. Radić predlaže generala za predsednika vlade,” Politika, 20 February 1928, 1. See also “Jest, hoćemo generala,” Novosti, 25 February 1928, 1. 87 “Audijencija g. Radića,” Politika, 20 February 1928, 1. 88 Gligorijević, Parlament, 251f. For a concise argument that politicians’ frequent calls for dictatorship meant there was no real parliamentary democracy in Yugoslavia, see Dragiša Lapčević, “Mi nemamo parlamentarizma,” Politika, 3 November 1926, 1. Cf. Drag. S. Kojić, “Naš parlamentarizam,” Politika, 5 November 1926, 1; and Popović-Obradović, Parlamentarizam u Srbiji. 89 Radić paraphrasing King Aleksandar in “Audijencija g. Radića,” Politika, 20 February 1928, 1. 90 Gligorijević portrays this as a conscious attempt on the part of the king to drive a wedge between the SDK and the government. Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 508, 512. 91 Cf. “Mandat g. d-r Marinkovića,” Politika, 21 February 1928, 1; and “Kombinacija s generalom,” Politika, 1 May 1928, 1. 92 “Kombinacija s generalom,” Politika, 1 May 1928, 1. 93 “Mandat g. d-r Marinkovića,” Politika, 21 February 1928, 1. “Kombinacija s generalom,” Politika, 1 May 1928, 1. 94 Gligorijević, Parlament, 262. 95 “G. Lj. Davidović o političkoj situaciji,” Politika, 6 May 1928, 2. Cincars are a small Grecophone ethnic group in the Balkans. Also called “MacedoVlachs,” they belong to the larger Vlach group. In Yugoslavia, they were stereotyped as cunning and greedy. 96 “Hrvatski književni jezik i beogradski cincarski žargon,” Politika, 13 June 1928, 1. 97 Kennard to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 12 March 1928. AJ, f. 371, film 385, frame 247, FO 371 288 12981, C 1956/173/92. 98 According to Todor Stojkov, Jedinstvo received secret funding from Velja Vukićević. 99 “Sa svinjama može se samo njihovim jezikom razgovarati,” Jedinstvo, 14 June 1928, 1.

274  Notes to pages 57–9 100 “Vladin list poziva na ubistvo Svetozara Pribićevića i Stjepana Radića,” Riječ, 16 June 1928, 2. 101 For more details on the SDK’s demands during this period, see Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 235–9. The Radical press of course delighted in pointing out the hypocrisy in Pribićević’s protests against police brutality. As Minister of Internal Affairs, he had not hesitated to order the roughing up of antigovernment and opposition demonstrators. 102 Here it should be said that there was again some hypocrisy involved, since Radić’s HSS had proven itself far from immune to such exploitation of the civil service when it had been in government. 103 See, for example, the opposition’s claim that the king supported “broad autonomy” and perhaps even “revision of the constitution.” “Mora doći genaral [sic] …,” Politika, 4 March 1928, 1. 104 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 238. 105 Jedinstvo claimed that Radić had himself employed murderous rhetoric in the Skupština. The paper also quoted the French newspaper Paris-Midi as having wondered in February 1928 why no one had bothered to shut the “maniac’s [Stjepan Radić’s]” mouth, “once and for all.” “Svinje ostaje svinje,” Jedinstvo, 17 June 1928, 1. The government, embarrassed by this kind of rhetoric, belatedly tried to ban Jedinstvo, but the order was struck down by an appeals court in Belgrade. “Zabrana ‘Jedinstva,’” Jedinstvo, 17 June 1928, 2. 106 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 306. Račić had also petitioned the President of the Skupština for an examination of the (mental) health of Stjepan Radić. The request was rejected. 107 Puniša Račić led the Udruženje srpskih četnika Petar Mrkonjić za kralja i otadžbinu (Association of Serb Chetniks for King and Fatherland), which pursued a Great Serbian ideology. (Petar Mrkonjić had been the nom de guerre of King Petar, Aleksandar’s father.) However, on 22 June 1928, a competing Chetnik organization, the Udruženje četnika (Association of Chetniks), issued a statement condemning the “crime” in the Skupština and stating that Račić was a scoundrel and swindler who had no claim to being a “real” Chetnik. Zvonimir Kulundžić, Politika i korupcija u kraljevskoj Jugoslaviji (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1968), 440. 108 “Puniša Račić na govornici,” Politika, 21 June 1928, 2. Politika printed the stenographic records of the June 20 session. Politika’s account matches the official Skupština stenographic records. 109 The Foreign Office, hostile as ever towards Stjepan Radić, laconically remarked that it was “a pity that the excitable radical got the wrong Radić.” C.H. Bateman, minutes on Mr. Roberts to FO, “Disturbances in the

Notes to pages 59–60  275 Yugoslav Parliament,” 20 June 1928. AJ, f. 371, film 385, FO 371 288 12982, C 4799/173/92, frame 37. 110 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 240. Government censors banned the 1 July issue of the Agrarian newspaper Rad in which outrage at the shooting was expressed. For the view of the Serbian Agrarians, whose leader, Dragoljub Jovanović, was the only politician of importance from Serbia to attend the funeral of the deceased HSS deputies, see Nadežda Jovanović, Život za slobodu bez straha (Belgrade: INIS, 2000), 141f. For the argument of collective guilt among the Serb parties, see also “Poslije pokolja hrvatskih zastupnika,” Novosti, 22 June 1928, 2. 111 France Filipčič, “Dr Anton Korošec in marksisti,” Prispevki za novejšo zgodovino 31, no. 1 (1991): 88–9. See also Rothschild, East Central Europe, 232–3, who links Račić to the White Hand. Cf. Momčilo Zečević, “Neki pogledi u Srbiji na političku delatnost dr. Antona Korošca 1918–1940,” Prispevki za novejšo zgodovino 31, no. 1 (1991): 69. 112 “Teška nesreća,” Samouprava, 21 June 1928, 1. 113 On 24 July, the Radical organ attacked Radić for alleged anti-Semitism while at the same time calling him a “Ciganin” (Gypsy). The column was suspended for a brief period following Radić’s death in August but resumed again on 21 August. “Paradoksi!,” Samouprava, 24 July 1928, 1. 114 “Svetozar Pribićević profesionalni ubica,” Jedinstvo, 24 June 1928, 1; “Stjepan Radić,” Jedinstvo, 24 June 1928, 2. 115 Indeed, Vukićević’s government in some ways inflamed passions by intervening openly on the side of the Radicals. For example, the Belgrade police on 22 June banned a declaration of condolence signed by thirtythree representatives of Serb opposition parties. Nadežda Jovanović, “Prilog proučavanju odjeka atentata u Narodnoj skupštini 20. juna 1928,” Časopis za suvremenu povijest 2, no. 1 (1970): 61–77. 116 Stojkov argues that King Aleksandar, well aware of swirling rumours about the alleged role of the Court in the Skupština shooting, consciously avoided proclaiming a royal dictatorship at this point. Stojkov, Opozicija, 54. 117 “Značajne izjave g. Sv. Pribićević,” Politika, 25 June 1928, 2. 118 “G. Pribićević odlučno za reviziju Ustava,” Politika, 26 June 1928. 119 Ljubo Boban, Svetozar Pribićević u opoziciji (1928–1936) (Zagreb: Sveučilište u Zagrebu/Institut za hrvatsku povijest, 1973), 17. 120 Svetozar Pribićević, Diktatura kralja Aleksandra, trans. Dražen Budiša and Božidar Petrač (Zagreb: Globus, 1990), 76. Many historians, including Gligorijević, believe that Pribićević’s long-standing personal antipathy towards Aleksandar, rather than any real allegiance to the SDK, informed

276  Notes to pages 60–2 his stance – and coloured his subsequent written account of this period. Yet the antipathy was undoubtedly mutual. Branislav Gligorijević, “Stvaranje prečanskog fronta u Hrvatskoj i političke posledice (1927– 1941),” Jugoslovenski istorijski časopis no. 1 (1997), 100; Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 329. 121 “Ka ostavci g. V. Vukićevića,” Politika, 26 June 1928, 4; “Demokratski ministri za ostavku vlade,” Politika, 27 June 1928, 4. 122 The Nettuno Conventions encompassed thirty-two agreements regulating a broad series of bilateral questions between Italy and Yugoslavia. Yugoslav opponents of the Nettuno Conventions believed that the agreements had yielded too much ground to Italy, thereby permitting Italian predominance in Dalmatia. The two parties signed the agreement in July 1925, but domestic political opposition delayed their taking effect in Yugoslavia. The HSS, and therefore the SDK, viewed the conventions as a capitulation to Italian demands. When considering the Nettuno Conventions, one must keep in mind that Italy controlled Fiume (Rijeka), Istria, Zara (Zadar), and the Adriatic islands of Cres, Lošinj, and Lastovo. 123 Mr. Patrick Roberts to FO, “Murder of Monsieur Paul Raditch and Monsieur Basaricek,” 27 June 1928. AJ, f. 371, film 385, frame 82, FO 371 288 12982, C 5103/173/92. 124 In general terms, the line in Belgrade was that Radić could and should have accepted the mandate because the king’s support for Radić would have forced the establishment of a concentrated government. “Četvorna koalicija je spremna da prihvati situaciju,” Politika, 8 July 1928. 125 For an outline of the history of the idea of “amputation,” see “Politika ‘amputacije’,” Novosti, 4 September 1928, 1–2. Cf. Gligorijević, “Stvaranje,” 101–4; Goldstein, Hrvatska, 61. 126 Rothschild, East Central Europe, 233. Branislav Gligorijević argues that the “amputation” proposal also resulted from a genuine feeling in Belgrade that a common state encompassing Croats and Serbs could not function. Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 315–21. 127 Kennard to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 6 September 1928. AJ, f. 371, film 386, frames 272-277, FO 371 288 12982, C 6797/173/92. 128 “Zašto je jugoslovenska država u današnjem svom obliku kao jedinstvena država osuđena da se raspadne!,” Politika, 30 July 1928, 3. 129 “Predstavnik SDK u boju na Kosovu,” Politika, 8 July 1928, 8. 130 “Referat g. Sv. Pribićevića,” Politika, 2 August 1928, 2. 131 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 240. 132 Novosti could not resisting noting that Ristović had received the same death sentence that he had wanted for Pribićević and Radić, writing “tko

Notes to pages 62–4  277 vjetar sije, žanje buru ” (he who sows wind, reaps a tempest). “Vladimir Ristović,” Novosti, 6 August 1928, 2. The new editor of Jedinstvo, Miodrag Savković, accused Svetozar Pribićević of standing behind the assassination. “Optužujemo Sv. Pribićevića ubicu Vladimira Ristovića,” Jedinstvo, 9 August 1928, 1. Svetozar Pribićević’s Riječ, meanwhile, alleged that the real purpose of Ristović’s visit to Zagreb had been to plot or carry out an attack on Pribićević. “Ubistvo urednika ‘Jedinstva’ Vlade Ristovića u Zagrebu,” Riječ, 7 August 1928, 2–3. 133 Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 241. 134 Djokić, Elusive Compromise, 68. 135 For a full and reasoned appraisal of Stjepan Radić’s legacy, see Biondich, Stjepan Radić, 245–54. 136 Ljubo Boban, Maček i politika HSS, 1928–1941. Iz povijesti hrvatskog pitanja (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1974), vol. I, 6. 137 There are indications that the government also tried an old trick on the opposition. Government agents disseminated “communist propaganda” in pro-SDK areas in order to show the “real” face of the SDK and thus discredit the opposition. See Kennard to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 6 September 1928. AJ, f. 371, film 386, frames 271ff., FO 371 288 12982, C 6797/173/92. 138 Matković, Svetozar Pribićević, 223–24. 139 Gligorijević, “Stvaranje,” 98. 140 AJ, f. 371, film 386, frame 287, FO 371 288 12982, C 7005/173/92, 11 September 1928. 141 “Srbijanski političari,” Novosti, 4 October 1928, 2. 142 “Ne amputacija nego rastava – ako se ne sporazumemo,” Politika, 8 September 1928, 2. For a well-phrased Serbian response to Maček’s charge of a “conquest mentality,” see Ljub. Stojanović, “Kako Hrvati gledaju na postanak naše države i kako žele da se preuredi,” Politika, 1 October 1928, 1. 143 For an exception, see “Bosna i Hercegovina,” Novosti, 14 November 1928, 2. 144 Ðorđe Stanković, Nikola Pašić i jugoslovensko pitanje (Belgrade: Beogradski izdavačko-grafički zavod, 1985), vol. 1, 108. 145 Ljub. Stojanović, “Kako Hrvati gledaju na postanak naše države i kako žele da se preuredi,” Politika, 1 October 1928, 1. 146 “G. d-r L[azar] Marković o srpsko-hrvatskim odnosima,” Politika, 27 October 1928, 4. 147 Branislav Gligorijević describes Pribićević as an increasingly marginal figure who resorted to ever more radical means to achieve a measure

278  Notes to pages 64–6 of revenge against the Belgrade Serbs (Davidović and King Aleksandar being the most important) who had crossed him. Gligorijević is correct to attack Pribićević’s hypocrisy and his often excessive rhetoric and tactics, but he errs in dismissing discontent among Croatian Serbs as a figment of Pribićević’s imagination. Gligorijević, “Stvaranje.” 148 Ljubodrag Dimić, Srbi i Jugoslavija. Prostor, društvo, politika (Pogled s kraja veka) (Belgrade: Stubovi kulture, 1998), 123–4. 149 In late October, Milan Srškić accused Spaho and the JMO of holding a “chameleonic position.” “G. d-r Srškić protiv g. Spahe i četvorne koalicije,” Politika, 27 October 1928, 5. For the indignant response of the JMO, see “Neopravdana uzbuna,” Pravda, 14 November 1928, 1. Note that the JMO, in this article, defined itself as much more than a political party. In their own eyes, the JMO represented a “narodni pokret” (national movement). 150 Gligorijević, Parlament, 266. 151 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 31. 152 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 345. “The Quai d’Orsay apparently recommended a change of constitution, and something like a federation in order to save Yugoslavia.” Vuk Vinaver, Jugoslavija i Francuska između dva svetska rata (Da li je Jugoslavija bila francuski “satelit”) (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 1985), 148. Yet Todor Stojkov argues that the French had invited Aleksandar to come to Paris for consultations. Stojkov points out that Ante Trumbić, at this time a representative of the SDK, visited Paris and concluded that the French regarded King Aleksandar as the only real authority in Yugoslavia. According to Stojkov, the French therefore did not hesitate to accept King Aleksandar’s plans for a dictatorship. Stojkov, Opozicija, 22. Cf. François Grumel-Jacquignon, La Yougoslavie dans la stratégie française de l’Entre-deux-Guerres (1918–1935): Aux origines du mythe serbe en France (Bern: Peter Lang, 1999), 359. 153 “Ustavnim putem …,” Politika, 13 October 1928, 1. Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 516, 36. 154 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 195. 155 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 346. 156 “Da vlada ima takta, otkazala bi sve proslave,” Novosti, 24 November 1928, 1. 157 “1918–1928: Jugoslavija na pomolu druge decenije Prvoga Decembra,” Politika, 1 December 1928, 1. 158 “U praškoj sudnici ubijen je ubica Cenabega,” Novosti, 1 December 1928, 1.

Notes to pages 66–8  279 159 Mr. Kennard to Sir Austen Chamberlain, “Tenth anniversary of the Union of the Kingdom of the Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes,” 7 December 1928. AJ, f. 371, film 386, frames 122ff., FO 371 288 12983, C 9251/173/92. For a Yugoslav government report on the events of 1 December 1928 see HDA, grupa XXI, kut. 19, inv. br. 1275. 160 Besides Maksimović at Zagreb, there were by this time military officers in command of the regional civil administrations at Bitola and Skopje. 161 On 8 December 1928, the Zagreb prosecutor’s office censored an article in the SDS newspaper Riječ in which it was claimed that Korošec had presented his coalition partners with a choice. Either “that the whole government fall, and that others take our place, maybe only generals – or that I assent to the dispatching of one colonel to those [people], our opponents in Zagreb. I think that I was the interpreter of your feelings and interests, when I rather chose that the colonel go to Zagreb – than that the generals go to Belgrade.” See censored issue of Riječ, 8 December 1928, in HDA, fond Iljka Karamana, knjiga 2, fasc. XV. 162 “Vođe S.D.K. o naimenovanju g. Maksimovića,” Politika, 7 December 1928, 2. See also Mr. Kennard to Sir Austen Chamberlain, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 12 December 1928. AJ, f. 371, film 386, frame 155, FO 371 288 12983, C 9407/173/92. 163 Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 546. 164 “Nemoćne prijetnje 20-junskog režima,” Novosti, 7 December 1928, 1. 165 “Izjava g. Svet. Pribićevića,” Novosti, 7 December 1928, 1. 166 Kennard to FO, “Yugoslav political situation,” 28 December 1928. AJ, f. 371, film 386, frame 198, FO 371 288 12983, C 9853/173/92. 167 Gligorijević points out that Davidović’s timing coincided with accusations of corruption against certain Democrats. Gligorijević, Demokratska stranka, 530. 168 On Drinković, see Banac, The National Question, 352–9. For the most extensive explanation of Drinković’s political views in 1928, see Mate Drinković, Hrvatska i državna politika (Zagreb: Tisak “Tipografije” d.d., 1928). 169 Mate Drinković to King Aleksandar, 10 December 1928, AJ, 335–6. 170 The Croat artist Ivan Meštrović wrote in his memoirs that King Aleksandar chose the Croat ministers in the first government of the dictatorship based on input from the publicist Toni Schlegel and the editor Milivoj Dežman. The monarch admitted that these two figures were not representative of the Croats, but thought that the late Radić’s alleged rapprochement with the king would prevent any outbreak of discontent. Ivan

280  Notes to pages 68–79 Meštrović, Uspomene na političke ljude i događaje (Zagreb: Nakladni zavod Matice Hrvatske, 1961; reprint, 1993), 186. 171 Mate Drinković to King Aleksandar, 10 December 1928. AJ, 335-6. 172 Mate Drinković to King Aleksandar, 22 December 1928. AJ, 335-6. 173 Stojkov, Opozicija, 65–8. 174 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 349. 175 Note that the very fact that the king even tried to find differences between Maček and Pribićević hints that he was looking to avoid a dictatorship, probably by marginalizing the most inflexible member of the SDK duo in favour of a broad concentration government. In a later conversation with the Serbian Orthodox Patriarch Gavrilo, King Aleksandar recalled his discussion with Pribićević. The king accused Pribićević of performing a volte-face that “no intelligent person [niko pametan] can understand” and of sticking a “knife into the back of the rest of the Serbs.” Dožić, Memoari, 52–3. 176 A SANU, Papers of Fedor Nikić, VIII A, narration [kazivanje] of Nikola Uzunović quoted in Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpskohrvatski spor, 354. 177 See the previously cited letters of Drinković and Toni Schlegel to Minister of the Royal Court Drag. Janković, 6 February 1928. AJ, 335–6. 178 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 355. 179 AJ, fond VM, Royal Papers, f. 18, quoted in Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor, 351. 180 “Dve godine Pilsudskog,” Politika, 18 March 1928, 1. For rumours about the influence on Aleksandar of Piłsudski, Primo de Rivera, and other contemporary dictators, see Kennard to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” AJ, f. 371, film 385, frame 247, FO 371 288 12981, C 1956/173/92, 12 March 1928. On the general trends of the period, see Milorad Ekmečić, Osnove građanske diktature u Evropi između dva svjetska rata (Sarajevo: 1967); Andrej Mitrović, Vreme netrpeljivih: Politička istorija velikih država Evrope, 1919–1939 (Belgrade: Srpska književna zadruga, 1974); Rothschild, East Central Europe. 181 This is the argument of Ivo Banac. Banac, The National Question. Chapter 3 1 Royal manifesto of King Aleksandar, 6 January 1929. Službene novine Kraljevine Jugoslavije, god. XI, br. 6, 6 January 1929. Emphasis added. All translations are mine unless otherwise noted. The decision of King Aleksandar to proclaim the dictatorship on Serbian Orthodox Christmas Eve

Notes to pages 79–80  281















has not been widely discussed by historians. However, the symbolism of Jesus Christ’s birth must have weighed strongly on Aleksandar, who was by all accounts deeply religious. Branislav Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u evropskoj politici (Belgrade: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002), 175. 2 Mustafa Imamović provides the best overview of the legislation of the dictatorship. Mustafa Imamović, “Normativna politika šestojanuarske diktature,” Zbornik pravnog fakulteta sveučilišta u Rijeci 12 (1991): 55–64. The workings and effects of these laws are described in detail in chapter 5. 3 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u evropskoj politici, 182–3. 4 Ivana Dobrivojević, Državna represija u doba diktature kralja Aleksandra, 1929–1935 (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 2006), 57. 5 See Službene novine, god. XI, br.9-IV, 11 January 1929, for the following: “Zakon o kraljevskoj vlasti i o Vrhovnoj državnoj upravi,” 53–4; “Zakon zaštiti javne bezbednosti i poretka u državi,” 54–6; “Zakon o izmenama i dopunama zakona o štampi,” 56–7; “Zakon o Državnom sudu za zaštitu Države,” 66–7. 6 On Živković and the White Hand at the time of the proclamation of the dictatorship, see Mile Bjelajac, Vojska Kraljevine Srba Hrvata i Slovenaca/ Jugoslavije, 1922–1935 (Belgrade: Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 1994), 141. 7 “Zakon o kraljevskoj vlasti,” 53f. The Law on Royal Power and High State Administration was originally published in the official gazette on 6 January 1929 and took effect that same day. 8 Mr. Kennard to Foreign Office, “Law concerning the royal power and the supreme administration in the state,” 10 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 322/97/92, frame 92. 9 King Aleksandar, quoted in “Da bi sačuvao jedinstvo i budućnost Svoje Kraljevine,” Politika, 17 January 1929. 10 Imamović, “Normativna politika,” 59. 11 Imamović, “Normativna politika,” 58. 12 Gavrilo Dožić, Memoari Patrijarha srpskog Gavrila (Belgrade: Sfairos, 1990), 60. 13 Todor Stojkov, Opozicija u vreme šestojanuarske diktature, 1929–1935 (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1969), 76. 14 Dragoljub Jovanović, “Protiv diktature – za slobodu,” unpublished manuscript, 195?, 98. For similar complaints, see “Novo stanje,” Nova Evropa, br. 2, 26 January 1929, 41. 15 FO minutes on Kennard to FO, “Creation of a dictatorship,” 10 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 321/97/92, frame 55.

282  Notes to pages 80–2 16 According to Meštrović, this comment made the king burst out in laughter. Ivan Meštrović, Uspomene na političke ljude i događaje (Zagreb: Nakladni zavod Matice Hrvatske, 1961; reprint, 1993), 186. 17 For short biographies of all the ministers in the first government of the dictatorship, see the excerpts from the Almanah Kraljevine Jugoslavije in Ljubodrag Dimić, Nikola Žutić, and Blagoje Isailović, ed., Zapisnici sa sednica Ministarskog saveta Kraljevine Jugoslavije, 1929–1931. (Belgrade: Službeni list SRJ, Arhiv Jugoslavije, 2002), 398–410. 18 Each name is followed by a symbol in parentheses indicating ethnicity (S=Serb, C=Croat, and SL=Slovene). 19 Stevan Savković held this portfolio until 14 January 1929. 20 Acting Consul Kenneth Borden (Zagreb) to Kennard, “Work of new Yugoslav government,” 25 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 722/97/92, frames 174ff. 21 The British Minister, Kennard, wrote that “I have hesitated to place in Živković’s record the fact that he is said to be addicted to unnatural vices. The Italian Legation go so far as to assert that his relations with the King have been of a criminal nature, but this I can hardly believe.” Note by Mr. Kennard to Mr. Sargent, 11 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 280/97/92, frame 57. David MacKenzie in particular provides much speculation on Živković. David MacKenzie, Apis: The Congenial Conspirator. The Life of Colonel Dragutin T. Dimitrijević (New York: Columbia University Press, 1989). For a vivid attack by a Serb historian on the choice of Živković, see Perko Vojinović, Vrbaska banovina u političkom sistemu Kraljevine Jugoslavije (Banja Luka: Filozofski fakultet, 1997), 64. King Aleksandar claimed that he chose Živković because Stjepan Radić had earlier mentioned him as an acceptable “neutral” leader. Dožić, Memoari, 60. However, cf. n22 below. Gligorijević treats Živković’s homosexuality as a fact already well-known by contemporaries. Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u evropskoj politici, 184. 22 Mr. Kennard to Sir Austen Chamberlain, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 18 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, frame 144, C 481/97/92. 23 As in n22. 24 As will be seen in more detail below, the presence of Srškić in the cabinet probably explained the absence of any Muslim politicians from the Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija (Yugoslav Muslim Organization, or JMO), even though this party generally welcomed the dictatorship as a lesser evil than governance by more variations of Radical-led governments. Atif Purivatra notes that the new regime did offer a portfolio to

Notes to pages 83–5  283















one Muslim JMO member, Salih Baljić, who declined it. The offer to Baljić represented an unsuccessful attempt to break the JMO into factions. Yet Baljić would later be of use to the regime in more subtle ways. Atif Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija u političkom životu Kraljevina Srba, Hrvata i Slovenaca, 3rd ed. (Sarajevo: Bosanski kulturni centar, 1999), 299–301. 25 “Hvala Bogu,” Jutarnji list, 8 January 1929. See also “Na novom putu,” Jutarnji list, 9 January 1929. 26 Kennard, telegram to Foreign Office, “Establishment of absolute despotic regime in Yugoslavia,” 8 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 153/97/92, frames 47–8. 27 British Consul at Zagreb to Kennard, “Despatch from Zagreb,” 9 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 321/92/92, frame 89. Tellingly, however, the same report notes that a heavy police presence in the city probably had a counterproductive effect, since it also prevented people from going out and participating in pro-regime processions. 28 On the SLS after 1929, see Jure Gašparič, SLS pod kraljevo diktaturo (Ljubljana: Modrijan, 2007). 29 Editorial from Jutro, 8 January 1929, quoted in Jurij Perovšek, Liberalizem in vprašanje slovenstva: Nacionalna politika liberalnega tabora v letih, 1918– 1929 (Ljubljana: 1996), 274–5. 30 “Izjava Dr Vladimira Mačeka,” Jutarnji list, 7 January 1929, 2. 31 Vladko Maček, In the Struggle for Freedom, trans. Elizabeth and Stjepan Gazi (University Park: Pennsylvania University State Press, 1957), 122. 32 Pravda, controlled by Vojislav Marinković, was the organ of the Democratic Party. It was also generally considered to be the voice of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 33 “Da se razumijemo,” Jutarnji list, 13 January 1929, 2. 34 Police section of city authority of Varaždin to presidential office of the Veliki župan, Zagreb region, 13 January 1929. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 26, inv. br. 1559. 35 Transcript of letter from MUD to Veliki župan, Zagreb, 8 April 1929. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 25, inv. br. 1487. 36 Vladko Maček in Narodni val, 9 January 1929, cited in Ljubo Boban, Maček i politika HSS, 1928–1941 (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1974), vol. I, 45. Boban points out that the censors banned this issue of Narodni val. 37 Vladko Maček, quote in Narodni val, 17 January 1929, cited in Boban, Maček i politika HSS, vol. I, 45n12. 38 On this subject, see Ivana Dobrivojević, “Cenzura u doba šestojanuarskog režima kralja Aleksandra,” Istorija 20. veka 2 (2005): 51–69.

284  Notes to pages 85–7 39 Although there are, as will be seen later, large numbers of citizens’ letters in the archive of the Royal Court, there seem to be relatively few surviving examples of these congratulatory telegrams and letters. In his memoirs, Vladko Maček accused the regime of forging “numerous congratulatory telegrams,” although without citing any specific evidence for this. Maček, In the Struggle for Freedom, 126. 40 “Narod pozdravlja oduševljeno Manifest Njegovog Veličanstva Kralja,” Politika, 10 January 1929, 1. The same issue features greetings from Vojvodina, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Dalmatia, Serbia, and Zagreb. 41 “Pozdravi Nj. V. Kralju,” Politika, 11 January 1929, 2. 42 “Organizacija Jugoslovenskih Nacionalista o Manifestu Nj. V. Kralja,” Politika, 11 January 1929, 4. On the ultra-unitarist ORJUNA, see Niko Bartulović, Od revolucionarne omladine do Orjune (Split: Direktorium Orjune, 1925). Notwithstanding ORJUNA’s enthusiasm and claims to anticipate the dictatorship’s ideology, it was forced to disband later in 1929. The banning of the fanatical ORJUNA indicates that the regime banned even like-minded groups, fearing it might not be able to fully control them. In ORJUNA’s case, the regime also felt that the group was too closely identified with some of the banned political parties. Nedim Šarac, Uspostavljanje šestojanuarskog režima: Sa posebnim osvrtom na Bosnu i Hercegovinu (Sarajevo: Svjetlost, 1975), 196f. 43 Mehmed Džemaludin Čaušević, commonly called Džemaludin Čaušević, was the Reis-ul-Ulema, the head of the Muslim community in Bosnia and Herzegovina from 26 March 1914 until 1930. On Čaušević, see Enes Karić and Mujo Demirović, eds., Reis Džemaludin Čaušević, prosvetitelj i reformator (Sarajevo: Ljiljan, 2002), 2 vols. 44 “Reis-ul-Ulema o novom stanju,” Politika, 17 January 1929, 3. Emphasis added. 45 Šarac, Uspostavljanje, 225n87. 46 On France’s initial foreign policy towards the dictatorship, see François Grumel-Jacquignon, La Yougoslavie dans la stratégie française de l’Entre-deux-Guerres (1918–1935): Aux origines du mythe serbe en France (Bern: Peter Lang, 1999), 370–81. Notwithstanding the onset of the worldwide economic depression, both French and British investors reacted favourably to the new regime and increased their investments in Yugoslavia. Stojkov, Opozicija, 39. 47 C.H. Bateman, minutes dated 7 January 1929 on Kennard telegram, “Creation of a dictatorship in Yugoslavia,” 6 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 97/97/92, frame 35. 48 Kennard, “Creation of a dictatorship in Yugoslavia,” 11 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 287/97/92, frame 53.

Notes to pages 87–90  285 49 Kennard telegram, “Creation of a dictatorship in Yugoslavia,” 6 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 97/97/92, frame 37. 50 Kennard to Foreign Office, “Creation of a dictatorship in Yugoslavia,” 10 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 321/97/92, frames 56, 62. 51 C.H. Bateman in the Foreign Office went so far as to call the Serbs “amongst the most independent free thinking peasants in the world.” Bateman, minutes dated 8 January 1929, on Kennard telegram to FO, “Establishment of absolute despotic regime in Yugoslavia,” 8 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13706, C 153/97/92, frames 47–48. 52 “Da bi sačuvao jedinstvo i budućnost Svoje Kraljevine,” Politika, 17 January 1929, 1. 53 Perhaps in response to the Le Matin interview, Kennard asked Aleksandar how long he thought the dictatorship might last. “His Majesty was less explicit, and when I endeavoured to secure some indication as to how long he thought that the present régime would last, he merely replied with a smile, ‘several long months at least.’” Mr Kennard to Sir Austen Chamberlain, “Creation of a dictatorship in Yugoslavia,” 18 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 288 13706, C 48/97/92, frame 137. 54 “Osnovne ideje vlade generala g. Petra Živkovića,” Politika, 12 January 1929, 1. 55 Most of these are contained in AJ, 74-10. Unfortunately, the deplorable state of the Yugoslav archives makes it impossible to tell what fraction of the letters received were preserved. 56 AJ, 74-10-19, 436. 57 Letter to King Aleksandar from a Mr Dragan[?] Popović, Skopje, January 1929. AJ, 74-10-19, 458. 58 AJ, 74-10-19, 496. 59 Many of these songs can be found in AJ, 74-43-61. 60 The police background check on Palčić identified him as a former soldier and a loyal state servant. General Division of Police, Belgrade City Administration to Royal Chancellery, 23 March 1929; A.M. Palčić, “Čestitka Njegovom Veličanstvu Kralju Aleksandru I.” AJ, 74-43-61, 182–4. 61 Letter to King Aleksandar from A. Jamnik, 5 December 1928. AJ, 74-13-24, 81. 62 Letter to King Aleksandar from A. Jamnik, 8 January 1929. AJ 74-13-24, 91. 63 Letter to King Aleksandar from A. Jamnik, 28 February 1929. AJ 74-13-24, 94. Although a Slovene, Jamnik wrote his first letters in Serbian (ekavian) using the Serbian Cyrillic script. 64 Letter of Sreten Sretenović to King Aleksandar, 30 January 1929. AJ, 74-1019, 439–42.

286  Notes to pages 90–1 65 “Raspis Predsednika vlade i Ministra unutrašnjih dela,” Politika, 16 January 1929, 3. 66 “Državna administracija,” Politika, 22 January 1929, 1; “Državna administracija,” Politika, 23 January 1929, 1. 67 “Zakon o suzbijanju zloupotreba u službenoj dužnosti,” Službene novine, god. IX, br. 78-XXXII, 3 April 1929, 469–72. Note that this law was in fact a reiteration of measures already on the books in the Criminal Code. 68 “Zakon o uređenju vrhovne državne uprave,” Službene novine, god. IX, br. 78-XXXII, 3 April 1929, 465–8. 69 Stojkov, Opozicija, 48. 70 This is the argument of Zvonimir Kulundžić’s mammoth but sensationalist survey of corruption in royal Yugoslavia. Kulundžić quotes the Democrat Milan Grol as saying that the dictatorship was the time in which “the purchasing of consciences was not only not regarded as a sin, but rather was sanctified as a means to rule.” Grol also regarded King Aleksandar as one of the most corrupt individuals in the country. In addition, Kulundžić notes that Prvislav Grisogono, a member of the Royal Legislative Council, later wrote that the regime worked in such a manner that not a single corruption affair or corrupt individual was uncovered or punished. Zvonimir Kulundžić, Politika i korupcija u kraljevskoj Jugoslaviji (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1968), 34, 63. 71 “Zabrana sastanaka plemenskih društava,” Politika, 12 January 1929, 2. 72 As so often in history, this decision had long-term deleterious consequences for historians. Several if not all of the political parties scrambled to destroy party documents before the police could seize control of their party archives. Hrvoje Matković, Svetozar Pribićević i Samostalna demokratska stranka do šestojanuarske diktature (Zagreb: Sveučilište u Zagrebu/Institut za hrvatsku povijest, 1972), 5. 73 For examples of police surveillance reports for Croat politicians, see HDA, f. 145, kut. 1-6. Similar reports for Bosnian politicians can be found in ABH, throughout the confidential files of the KBU of Drina Banovina. Unfortunately, no such relevant archival material has survived for the KBU of Drava Banovina. 74 Šarac, Uspostavljanje, 196. 75 The Yugoslav police carried out their orders to shut down political parties beginning on 20 January 1929. Action was taken against Croat political parties on 20 January, against Slovene parties on 22 January, and against Serb parties on 24 January. For notes on implementation of this policy, see Šarac, Uspostavljanje. Otokar Keršovani states that the dictatorship found it much easier to shut down the Serb political parties than the Croat

Notes to pages 91–3  287













ones. Otokar Keršovani, Povijest Hrvata (Zagreb: Otokar Keršovani, 1971), 128. 76 The small Srpska stranka (Serb Party) was shut down immediately. Šarac, Uspostavljanje, 196. 77 “Raspust političkih stranaka u Zagrebu,” Jutarnji list, 21 January 1929, 1. 78 Nadežda Jovanović, Život za slobodu bez straha (Belgrade: INIS, 2000), 151–2. See also Milan Stojadinović’s comments on political parties in Dobrivojević, Državna represija, 51. 79 HDA, f. 144, kut. 4, br. 81/29. Transcription of telegram from General Petar Živković to the veliki župan of Karlovac District, 23 January 1929. Only a few days later, Živković issued a circular warning that former politicians were exploiting organizational and associational charters to infuse such groups with an illegal political nature. He demanded that appropriate actions be taken to stop this from occurring. General Petar Živković, Minister of Internal Affairs, to administration of the city of Belgrade and to all veliki župans, 1 February 1929. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 26, inv. br. 1547. 80 Šarac, Uspostavljanje, 197; Vojinović, Vrbaska banovina, 65f. For a history of Gajret, see Ibrahim Kemura, Uloga “Gajreta” u društvenom životu Muslimana Bosne i Hercegovine (1903–1941) (Sarajevo: Veselin Masleša, 1986). 81 This topic is treated more extensively in chapter 5. 82 See, for example, the interview with the Dr Krulj, the mayor of Zagreb, in Politika. “Razgovor sa g. dr. Kruljem,” Politika, 27 January 1929, 1. 83 Službene novine Kraljevine SHS, br. 28-XIII, 4 February 1929, 130. 84 “Prvi sastanak Vrhovnog Zakonodavnog Saveta,” Politika, 15 March 1929, 3. 85 Imamović, “Normativna politika,” 57. 86 “Suzbijanje korupcije,” Politika, 20 March 1929, 3. 87 Wrote Kennard, “it is unfortunate that the Supreme Legislative Council, which was instituted to examine draft laws before their approval, rarely examines any of the really important measures and has to be satisfied with passing on minor regulations which are of lesser significance.” Kennard to FO, “Political and economic situation in Yugoslavia,” 18 June 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 288 13707, C 4592/97/92, frame 141. 88 This paralleled the program of sanacja carried out in Józef Piłsudski’s Poland. Joseph Rothschild, Pilsudski’s Coup d’État (New York: Columbia University Press, 1966), 194f. Cf. Ljubodrag Dimić, “Država, integralno jugoslovenstvo i kultura,” Književnost, nos. 1–3 (1994): 172. 89 “Radni program vlade generala g. Petra Živkovića,” Politika, 22 March 1929, 1.

288  Notes to pages 93–5 90 Report of Acting Consul at Zagreb in Mr Kennard, “Attitude of the Croats and Slovenes towards the new régime in Yugoslavia,” 30 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 288 13706, C 905/97/92, frame 208. 91 For an extensive obituary, see Ante Kovač, “Toni Schlegel †,” Riječ, 30 March 1929, 2–3. Cf. Matković, Svetozar Pribićević, 108ff. 92 The asssassins hailed from a group known as the Hrvatski domobran (Croat Home Guard). James Sadkovich, “Terrorism in Croatia, 1929– 1934,” East European Quarterly 22, no. 1 (1988): 65. 93 Josip Horvat, Živjeti u Hrvatskoj, 1900–1941 (Zagreb: SNL, 1984), 302. 94 Sir H.W. Kennard to FO, “Trial of murderers of Monsieur Basaricek, Monsieur Stjepan Raditch and Monsieur Pavle Raditch,” 11 June 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13707, C4322/97/92, frame 123. 95 “The Skupshtina Murders,” Near East, clipping dated 13 June 1929, in ibid. 96 The full name of the Ustaša was “Ustaša – Hrvatska revolucionarna organizacija” (Ustaša – Croatian Revolutionary Organization). At this time, the Ustaša counted at most a few hundred active members, and most of them operated in exile either in Hungary or Italy. For a history of the Ustaša movement during the interwar period, see Bogdan Krizman, Ante Pavelić i Ustaše (Zagreb: Globus, 1986). On the relationship between the HSS and the Ustaša, see Sadkovich, “Terrorism.” 97 For a reproduction of the verdict against Pavelić and Perčec, see Krizman, Ante Pavelić, 59–60. 98 The Radicals had bitterly opposed the holding of local elections in Bosnia-Herzegovina. When these were finally held in October 1928, they confirmed the greater strength of the JMO in Bosnia-Herzegovina and its absolute dominance of the Muslim vote. Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska, 284–96. 99 Draft letter of Mehmed Spaho to King Aleksandar, 9 February 1929, as transcribed in Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska, 427–8. On the consequences of Spaho’s letter, see Šarac, Uspostavljanje, 195. 100 Jovanović, Život, 153. 101 Jovanović, Život, 154. 102 The British argued that the government only risked making a martyr out of Pribićević, whose reputation had until his arrest been in seemingly terminal decline. FO minutes on Kennard to FO, “Situation in Yugoslavia,” 22 May 1929. AJ, film 389, FO 371 288 13707, frame 111. Pribićević remained in Brus until July 1929, when he was transferred to detention in a Belgrade hospital because of illness. He spent the next two years there. At that time, when the government decided to return him to Brus, Pribićević

Notes to pages 95–7  289 went on a hunger strike. As a result of this, he was given a passport. He went into exile in Prague in July 1931. On Pribićević’s activities after 1929, see Ljubo Boban, Svetozar Pribićević u opoziciji (1928-1936) (Zagreb: Sveučilište u Zagrebu/Institut za hrvatsku povijest, 1973). 103 “Rezultati šestomesečnog rada vlade generala g. Petra Živkovića,” Politika, 7 July 1929, 2. 104 Kennard to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 10 April 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13707, C 2649/97/92, frame 71. 105 The Foreign Office wrote that the “situation is most parlous in financial and economic spheres and it is essential for new régime that new loan of considerable magnitude should be negotiated.” See Kennard to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 4 April 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 288 13707, C 2468/97/92, frame 60. On the impact of the Great Depression on Yugoslavia and the Balkans, see John R. Lampe and Marvin R. Jackson, Balkan Economic History, 1550–1950: From Imperial Borderlands to Developing Nations (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982), 434–519. 106 Kennard to FO, “Political and economic situation in Yugoslavia,” 18 June 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 288 13707, C 4592/97/92, frame 141. 107 Martin Mayer, Elementarbildung in Jugoslawien (1918–1941). Ein Beitrag zur gesellschaftlichen Modernisierung?, Südosteuropäische Arbeiten (Munich: R. Oldenbourg, 1995), 74. 108 Charles Jelavich, “Education, Textbooks and South Slav Nationalisms in the Interwar Era,” in Allgemeinbildung als Modernisierungsfaktor. Zur Geschichte der Elementarbildung in Südosteuropa von der Aufklärung bis zum Zweiten Weltkrieg. Beiträge zur Tagung vom 29. Oktober bis 2. November 1990 in Berlin (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1994), 130. See also MarieJanine Calic, “Bildung als Entwicklungsproblem in Jugoslawien (1918– 1941),” in the same volume, 103–26. 109 Mayer, Elementarbildung, 63–4, 73–4. 110 In the Foreign Office itself, C. Howard-Smith opined that “the King is doing his best, but he cannot do it all alone and there is no one to help him.” C. Howard-Smith, minutes on Sir Kennard to FO, “Internal situation in Yugoslavia,” 16 September 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 371 288 13707, C 7092/97/92, frames 175ff. 111 In July 1929, Minister of Trade and Industry Mažuranić resigned and was replaced by another Croat, Juraj Demetrović. At the beginning of August, Korošec left the Ministry of Transportation to go to the Ministry of Forests and Mines, thereby swapping jobs with Lazar Radivojević, a Serb. 112 Daniel Field, Rebels in the Name of the Tsar (Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1989). For the Soviet period, see Nina Tumarkin, Lenin Lives! The Lenin Cult in

290  Notes to pages 97–101 Soviet Russia, expanded ed. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997). On this phenomenon, see also James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), 96–103. 113 Ian Kershaw, The “Hitler Myth”: Image and Reality in the Third Reich (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 104. 114 Dušan Petrović and others to King Aleksandar, 28 November 1929. AJ, 74-35-52, 199–200. Emphasis in original. 115 Letter of thirty-five inhabitants of Cabuna to King Aleksandar, 29 January 1930. AJ, 74-35-52, 271. 116 Administrative Department of KBUDB (non-confidential) to Royal Chancellery, 17 February 1930. AJ, 74-35-52, 271a. 117 On a similar point in the Soviet context, see Vladimir A. Kozlov, “Denunciation in Soviet Governance,” in Sheila Fitzpatrick, ed., Stalinism: New Directions, Rewriting Histories (London: Routledge, 2000), 117–41. 118 “Zakon o nazivu i podeli Kraljevine na upravna područja,”Službene novine, god. XI, broj 233 – XCV, 5 October 1929, 1883–9. 119 The banovinas actually began operating on 11 November 1929. 120 Nedim Šarac provides a brief overview of the formation of the banovinas. Nedim Šarac, “Promjena naziva i podjela na banovine jugoslovenske monarhije 1929. godine,” in Teme naše novije istorije (Istoriografski prilozi), ed. Nedim Šarac (Sarajevo: 1981), 130–9. 121 Going further back, Perko Vojinović sees the origins of the banovinas in the writings of the influential Serb geographer and ethnographer Jovan Cvijić. Vojinović, Vrbaska banovina, 71. 122 The most extensive single source on the fascinating life and ideas of Milan Srškić is the hagiography Milan Srškić (1880-1937) (Sarajevo: Odbor za izdavanje Spomenice pok. M. Srškiću, 1938). 123 On the role of the JMO in the October 1928 local elections, see Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska, 284–96. Milan Srškić and most of the Bosnian part of the Radical Party had stubbornly opposed the holding of these elections. 124 “Glas Bosne,” Glas Bosne, 28 October 1928, 1. Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska, 295. The Bosnian Serbs reviled the Schutzkorps, which they remembered for atrocities committed against Serbs during the First World War. Yet their memory tended to be somewhat selective, as they persisted in believing that only Bosnian Croats and Bosnian Muslims, and not Bosnian Serbs, had served in these units. 125 In the same article, Srškić referred to Spaho as a “national bastard” and criticized Spaho’s “chameleonic behavior.” Milan Srškić, quoted in “G. d-r Srškić protiv g. Spahe i četvorne koalicije,” Politika, 27 October 1928, 5.

Notes to pages 101–3  291 126 Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska, 296. 127 Zlatko Hasanbegović, Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija 1929–1941 (Zagreb: Biblioteka Bosana, 2012), 45–6. On rumours that Mehmed Spaho might personally have taken a more positive opinion of the banovinas, see 71. 128 Minutes of the XXIIIrd Session of Ministerial Council, 3 October 1929. AJ, 138-1-1, 116. 129 “Objašnjenje novoga Zakona,” Politika, 4 October 1929, 1. 130 To avoid confusion between this title and the English word “ban,” the former will appear in italics throughout this work. 131 Going even further back, it is believed that the title of ban is Avar in origin. See Milan Šufflay, “Characteristic Marks of the Croatian Nation,” HDA, f. 832, kut. 2. This kind of symbolic concession to the Croats had a precedent. In January 1928, Aleksandar christened his second-born son “Tomislav,” the name of a celebrated medieval Croat ruler. See “Oduševljenje i razdraganost u Zagrebu radi krštenja novorodjenog kraljevića imenom hrvatskog kralja Tomislava,” Novosti, 26 January 1928, 1. Perko Vojinović argues that the choice of the name “Yugoslavia” was also intended as a concession to the Croats. During the formation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, Nikola Pašić had led Serbian opposition to the name “Yugoslavia,” which many Serbs viewed as a negation or at the very least an unacceptable marginalization of the name “Serbia.” Vojinović, Vrbaska banovina, 70. Yet it might also be pointed out that the abolition of the title veliki župan after October 1929 eliminated one historically Croatian title from the scene. 132 “Zakon o nazivu i podeli Kraljevine na upravna područja,”Službene novine, god. XI, broj 233 – XCV, 5 October 1929, 1883–9. 133 Given the nature of the regime, it was of course hardly possible to comment critically in an open way on this matter. 134 Šarac, Uspostavljanje, 278. 135 This column lists an approximate description of the territory covered by each banovina. For a more detailed description of the geography of the banovinas, see “Zakon o nazivu i podeli Kraljevine na upravna područja,” Službene novine, god. XI, broj 233 – XCV, 5 October 1929, 1883–9. For the first modifications and clarifications of the banovina boundaries, see “Uredba o promenama područja srezova i opština usled određenih banovinskih granica,” Službene novine, god. XI, broj 267-CVII, 14 November 1929, 1971–2. 136 Statistics from Politika, 4 October 1929. The Belgrade district encompassed 377.6 square kilometres. The data on the size of the banovinas represent the districting as of October 1929. Over the following years, a series of

292  Notes to pages 103–6 adjustments were made to the size of the banovinas – which were in any case not precisely delineated in any law until the 1931 constitution. 137 Each name is followed by a symbol in parentheses indicating ethnicity (S=Serb, C=Croat, and SL=Slovene). 138 Jadranska straža was an important Yugoslav cultural organization. Its activities are examined in chapter 4. 139 “Objašnjenje novoga Zakona,” Politika, 4 October 1929, 1. 140 For the official announcement of the establishment of the banovinas, see Ferdo Čulinović, Jugoslavija između dva rata, 2 vols. (Zagreb: JAZU, 1961), vol. II, 13. Joseph Rothschild says that the Croats’ complaints “had at best a symbolic relevance, for the banovinas, in fact, never became significant units of self-government or even of administrative power, let alone of local loyalty.” Yet as Rothschild himself admits, the significance of the banovinas lay in their failure “to assuage ethnic tensions or to ameliorate governmental arbitrariness.” Rothschild, East Central Europe between the Two World Wars (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1974), 238. For a contemporary argument for an increase in the autonomy of the banovinas, see Milutin Jovanović, Preuređenje banovina (Belgrade: Francusko-srpska knjižara, 1938?). 141 “Zakon o banskoj upravi,” Službene novine, god. XI, br. 261-CV, 7 November 1929, 1951–61. 142 Paragraph 9 of the aforementioned Law on Banovina Administration used the term Odsek javne bezbednost (Section of Public Security). However, when the operations of the banovinas began in November 1929, the term Odsek za državnu zaštitu (Section for State Protection) was used. 143 The work of the Section for State Protection, in particular its surveillance activities, will be examined in chapter 5. 144 “Zakon o banskoj upravi,” Službene novine, god. XI, br. 261-CV, 7 November 1929, Article 26, 1953. The councils did not begin functioning until July 1930. For an initial sanguine assessment of the significance of the councils, see Henderson to FO, “Creation of Yugoslav Councils,” 4 July 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, FO 371 212 14441, C 5406/144/92, frames 82–3. 145 Article 135 of the Vidovdan Constitution upheld the historical borders within the Yugoslav state. It was known colloquially as the “Turkish paragraph.” Ivan Lovrenović, Unutarnja zemlja, 2nd ed. (Zagreb: Durieux, 1998), 148. Ljubodrag Dimić, Nikola Žutić, and Blagoje Isailović correctly note that the new political geography of the state also divided Serbia into five banovinas. However, they ignore the establishment of Serb majorities in six of the nine banovinas. Dimić, Žutić, and Isailović, eds., Zapisnici, xxxix.

Notes to pages 107–9  293 146 Data from Kraljevska banska uprava Drinske banovine, Narodno jedinstvo. Ilustrovani zvanični almanah-kalendar Drinske banovine za budžetsku 1930/31 godinu (Sarajevo: Državna štamparija, 1930). Ethnic demographics are not available for this period. Thus, “Catholics” are largely Slovenes and Croats but can include Germans and others. Likewise, “Orthodox” generally encompasses Serbs, but also groups such as Bulgarians and Macedonians – the latter of course not officially recognized. Note that the poor quality of the original chart makes it difficult to discern between “Evangelical” and “Other” for Sava Banovina, and between “Catholics” and “Jews” for Vardar Banovina. 147 Ante Trumbic conversation with Vladko Maček, cited in Boban, Maček, vol. I, 59n90. The word posrbljivanje is derived from the verb posrbiti, “to make Serbian, or to become like a Serb.” Morton Benson, Srpskohrvatskoengleski rečnik , 3rd ed. (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1993), 436. 148 In general, during the interwar period Croat and Slovene politicians rarely challenged the Serbocentric definition of the majority of the inhabitants of Yugoslav Macedonia as “Southern Serbs.” However, prominent Croat politicians, including Vladko Maček, made many statements alluding to Bosnian Muslims as ethnic Croats. 149 Ljubodrag Dimić represents perhaps the most eloquent propagator of this view. Ljubodrag Dimić, Srbi i Jugoslavija. Prostor, društvo, politika (Pogled s kraja veka) (Belgrade: Stubovi kulture, 1998), 124ff. 150 Vojinović, Vrbaska banovina. To be sure, Vojinović agrees with Ljubodrag Dimić that the Serbs were the “victims” of the dictatorship. For Vojinović, the system of banovinas did not do enough to disseminate Serb ideology and dominance. 151 Svetozar T. Milosavljević, Susreti sa Kraljem, 1929–1934, ed. Verica Stošić, Nebojša Radmanović, and Dušan Vržina (Banja Luka: Opština Banja Luka, Arhiv Republike Srpske, 1996), 29. This provides tacit recognition that Aleksandar was aware of the existence of a distinct Muslim identity; it also illustrates his military mentality. I am indebted to the late Olga Popović-Obradović for this point. 152 The article was printed in Serbian (ekavian). P., “Jugoslavija!,” Politika, 5 October 1929, 1. Emphasis in original. 153 “Utisak u unutrašnjosti,” Politika, 5 October 1929, 2. 154 “Reč Dubrovnika,” Politika, 8 October 1929, 1. 155 A. Jamnik to King Aleksandar, 18 December 1929. AJ 74-13-24, 197. 156 See, for example, the telegram by a group of peasants from Zagorje to the Royal Court, attached to District Chief of Zlatar to presidential office of

294  Notes to pages 110–11 veliki župan of Zagreb Region, 7 October 1929. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 25, inv. br. 1483. 157 The name stems from the verb pokloniti, which means “to give [as a present].” The related word poklonik refers to a pilgrim, admirer, or follower. However, that word was not used for members of the delegations. Rather, they were referred to as deputies or delegates. Members of the delegations were paying fealty, or “giving themselves,” to the king and the fatherland in the name of their region and “tribe.” 158 Thus Ljubo Boban, in his otherwise meticulous account of Croat politics during the dictatorship, examines only the origins of the “December delegation” of Croats from Sava Banovina, and the planned attack on this delegation, which this work will address below. Little is said about the actual visits. Boban suggests that the first delegation emerged from the mutual desire of the Royal Court and pro-regime Croats to ameliorate the atmosphere of suspicion that had arisen in the wake of the assassination of Toni Schlegel. In addition, Boban argues that the court used the delegations to polish its image abroad. Boban, Maček, vol. I, 49. 159 KBUDB, Narodno jedinstvo, 91. 160 ARSr, KBUVrB, a.j. 13. In the case of Vrbas Banovina, most of the delegates seem to have been members of political parties before 1929. For the 1930 delegations, more extensive data were sought, including information about the property holdings of delegates (important in an overwhelmingly agrarian society), official medals or honours awarded “before the sixth of January of last year,” and official medals or honours received after the beginning of the dictatorship. For Sava Banovina, see HDA, f. 144, kut. 12, predmet 876/30. Here as well, most delegates appear to have been members of political parties prior to 6 January 1929. This, of course, makes their ritual denunciations of the “party dictatorship” at least slightly hypocritical. For Drina Banovina, cf. Šarac, Uspostavljanje, 203. 161 For examples of such speeches, as well as speeches delivered by delegates at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, at the tomb of King Petar, and to gatherings of Serbs, see AJ, 74-38-56, 1f. The presence of multiple drafts of the peasants’ speeches in the Royal Court archives strongly suggests that these speeches were not delivered ex tempora and that they might even have been drafted or edited by officials of the Royal Court. 162 In the case of a delegation from Zagorje in November, there are some indications that the members of the delegation themselves took the initiative. See Marko C´utić to Marshal of Royal Court, 19 October 1929. AJ, 74-195-273, 218. Boban treats the large delegation organized in December

Notes to pages 111–13  295 1928 by Svetozar Rittig, a Roman Catholic priest and a member of the Zagreb City Council, as the first poklonstvena delegacija. To alleviate the tensions between Belgrade and Zagreb after the assassination of Toni Schlegel, Rittig had reached an agreement with the Court in December to send a delegation of Croats to Belgrade. However, the October and November delegations clearly set a pattern, which the December delegation followed. Boban, Maček, vol. I, 48–49. Cf. Meštrović, Uspomene, 190–1. 163 “Hrvatske zadrugare primio je Nj. V. Kralj i Predsednik Vlade,” Politika, 20 October 1929, 3. 164 “Hrvatski seljaci u Šumadiji,” Politika, 21 October 1929, 3. 165 J[ovan] Dučić, “Reč Jugoslavija,” Politika, 30 October 1929, 1. Emphasis in the original. 166 Ivan Radić, one of Stjepan Radić’s nephews, and a former MP, was among the delegates. AJ, 74-38-56, 20–21, 23. 167 “Reč Nj. V. Kralja,” Politika, 18 December 1929, 4. 168 See “Beograd je svečano dočekao deputacije vardarske i moravske banovine,” Politika, December 25, 1929, 1; “Na grobu Neznanog junaka i Kralja Oslobodioca,” Politika, 27 December 1929, 1; “Danas stižu poklonstvene delegacije Zetske i Vrbaske banovine,” Politika, 28 December 1929, 1; “Svečani doček deputacija Zetske i Vrbaske banovine,” Politika, 29 December 1929, 1; “Delegacije Zetske i Vrbaske banovine primio je juče Nj. V. Kralj,” Politika, 30 December 1929, 1; “Na grobu Neznanog Junaka i Kralja Oslobodioca,” Politika, 31 December 1929, 3. 169 “Poklonstvene delegacije Dravske, Drinske i Dunavske banovine,” Politika, 12 January 1930, 1; “Poklonstvene deputacije na Avali i Topoli,” Politika, 12 January 1930, 1. Although apparently incomplete, a partial list of deputies from Drava Banovina appears in AJ, 74-205-292, 594–5. 170 “U Južnoj Srbiji vlada potpun red, savršena bezbednost i svi krajevi ekonomski napreduju,” Politika, 25 December 1929, 2. 171 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 49. In addition, no one reported that Croat delegates returning home from Belgrade in January 1930 were virtually ignored by local residents. Police report on political conditions in the districts of Vinkovci, Šid, Vukovar, and Županjski, 21 March 1930. ABH, KBUDBpov., 411/1930. Emphasis in original. 172 Aleksandar Jakir, Dalmatien zwischen den Weltkriegen. Agrarische und urbane Lebenswelt und das Scheitern der jugoslawischen Integration, Südosteuropäische Arbeiten (Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 1999), 114; Nikola Žutić, Sokoli: Ideologija u fizičkoj kulturi Kraljevine Jugoslavije, 1929–1941, 41. 173 Claire Nolte, The Sokol in the Czech Lands to 1914: Training for the Nation (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002).

296  Notes to pages 113–15 174 See ARS, f. 641. 175 Žutić, Sokoli, 6–9. 176 Tomaž Pavlin, “Razvoj sokolstva v Sloveniji med leti 1929–1941,” PhD diss., University of Ljubljana, 2000, 37. 177 Pavlin, “Razvoj sokolstva v Sloveniji,” 41. 178 In July 1924, Minister of Education Svetozar Pribićević banned teachers and students at all state schools from membership in “tribal” or “religious” sports societies. This led to protests from the Catholic Orlovi. In August 1924, the new Minister of Education, Anton Korošec, immediately rescinded this order. However, Pribićević returned to the ministry in November 1924 and reinstated the order. Pavlin, “Razvoj sokolstva v Sloveniji,” 60. 179 More militant were the nationalist organizations Narodna odbrana (National Defence), Srpska nacionalna omladina (Serb Nationalist Youth, or SRNAO), Organizacija jugoslovenskih nacionalista (Organization of Yugoslav Nationalists, or ORJUNA), and Hrvatska nacionalna omladina (Croat Nationalist Youth, or HANAO). Their membership often overlapped with that of the Yugoslav Sokol (in the case of SRNAO, ORJUNA, and Narodna odbrana) and with the Croat Sokol (in the case of HANAO). Slovenia had its own Slovene Nationalist Youth organization. All of the aforementioned organizations were anti-communist, and they therefore frequently clashed with striking communists. Branko Petranović, Istorija Jugoslavije, 1918–1988 (Belgrade: Nolit, 1988), vol. I, 161. Branislav Gligorijević, “Organizacija jugoslovenskih nacionalista (Orjuna),” Istorija XX veka 5 (1963): 315–69); Branislav Gligorijević, “Srpska nacionalna omladina (SRNAO),” Istorijski glasnik 2–3 (1964): 3–37. 180 President of Ministerial Council and Minister of Internal Affairs Petar Živković to the veliki župan of Zagreb, confidential, 19 August 1929. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 26, inv. br. 1574. 181 Confidential letter of Sokol Society of Kotor to Brotherly Sokol District in Cetinje, 17 April 1929. AJ, 74-16-28, 25. 182 Already on 21 January 1929, Gangl wrote to King Aleksandar asking him to take no action on matters related to the Sokol movement without first consulting the Yugoslav Sokol Union. Gangl to King Aleksandar, 21 January 1929. AJ, 74-18-31, 127. 183 Yugoslav Sokol Union, letter and draft of law on physical education in schools and the army, to Marshal of Royal Court, 1 March 1929. AJ, 74-438-643, 113–21. 184 Letter of Engelbert Gangl to King Aleksandar, 7 August 1929. AJ, 74-18-31, 113.

Notes to pages 115–18  297 185 Minutes of XVth Session of Ministerial Council, 18 June 1929. AJ, 138-1-1, 90. 186 Minutes of XXVth Session of Ministerial Council, 26 October 1929. AJ, 138-1-1, 119. 187 Engelbert Gangl to King Aleksandar, 7 August 1929. AJ, 74-18-31, 113. 188 Engelbert Gangl to King Aleksandar, 7 August 1929. AJ, 74-18-31, 113–21. Emphasis added. 189 The Chancellery of H.M. the King to Ministers of Justice and Transportation, 5 and 25 October 1929. AJ, 74-18-31, 122–3. 190 Minutes of XXVIIth Session of Ministerial Council, 4 December 1929. AJ, 138-1-1-121. 191 Communiqué, attachment to the Minutes of the XXVIIth Session of the Ministerial Council, 4 December 1929. AJ, 138-1-1-126. 192 “Zakon o osnivanju Sokola Kraljevine Jugoslavije,” Službene novine, god. XI, broj 287 – CXVII, 6 December 1929, 2151–3. 193 Pressure was also applied to members of the Yugoslav Boy Scouts and the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) to join the Sokol. 194 A narodna škola, which actually consists of two four-year elementary schools, corresponds roughly to the German Grundschule. For a detailed description of the Yugoslav educational system after 1929, see Mayer, Elementarbildung, 76–80. 195 “Zakon o narodnim školama,” Službene novine, god. XI, broj 289 – CXIX, 9 December 1929, 2162. 196 See, for example, Nikola Žutić, Kraljevina Jugoslavija i Vatikan: Odnos jugoslovenske države i rimske crkve, 1918–1935 (Belgrade: Maštel Commerce, Arhiv Jugoslavije, 1994); and Nikola Žutić, Rimokatolička crkva i Hrvatstvo od ilirske ideje do velikohrvatske realizacije, 1453–1941 (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 1997). 197 There is ample evidence that the Croat Sokol in particular faced government discrimination by the 1920s. See AJ, f. 74-16-28 and HDA, f. 144 and f. 145. 198 For an explicit example of such an interpretation of this law, see the case of the honorary official Ignac Bobovečki, who was fired from state service when he “manifest[ed] himself as a great opponent of the Sokol” movement. AJ, 74-16-28, 49, anonymous confidential document, Royal Chancellery, n.d., probably 1933. The document quotes the law as relayed in a MUP order of 22 December 1932. 199 See the job evaluation forms in AJ, 66 (pov.)-15-39. Cf. HDA, f. 147, kut. 152b., passim. 200 In a later letter to King Aleksandar in which Gangl suggested the establishment of a ministry for national physical fitness, Gangl referred

298  Notes to pages 118–20 repeatedly to the “democratic Sokol movement.” Sycophantic as ever, Gangl wrote that only the Czechoslovak President Tomáš Masaryk rivalled Aleksandar in his love for the Sokol movement. Gangl to Aleksandar, 20 May 1932. AJ, 74-18-31, 178–81. 201 Žutić’s argument on the non-political nature of the Yugoslav Sokol movement flies in the face of evidence he himself cites. For example, he cites Ante Brozović, the secretary of the Union of Sokols, as writing that “closing our ranks to politics, that does not mean that we must close our eyes to the public and daily events of political life. The Sokol movement especially, as an eminent national institution, must take into account whether our political parties are morally healthy or not … The Sokols need to receive an impact in political parties.” This statement is all the more extraordinary because Brozović made it at a time when all political parties were banned. Ante Brozović, Sokol Kraljevine Jugoslavije (Belgrade: 1930), cited in Žutić, Sokoli, 47f. 202 From 1929 to 1933, the number of girls in the Sokol movement increased from 7,944 to 40,662, while the number of boys rose from 9,081 to 52,122. See charts on Sokol membership in Ante Brozović, ed., Sokolski zbornik: Godina I (Belgrade: 1934), passim. Note, however, that no single reliable estimate of Sokol membership exists. In his study of the Sokol movement in Slovenia and Yugoslavia, Tomaž Pavlin provides dramatically higher numbers than does Brozović. For example, for 1930 Pavlin estimates a total membership (adult and child) of 135,668, and 332,356 for 1934, the peak membership year. Pavlin, “Razvoj,” 135. 203 In 1928, there were 71 Sokol Houses in the kingdom. By 1933, that number had increased to 167, with a further 36 under construction and 101 in the planning stages. Brozović, ed., Sokolski zbornik, chart between 120 and 121. Tomaž Pavlin’s figures again differ. He counts 195 Sokol Houses in 1933. Pavlin, “Razvoj,” 129. 204 See, for example, the petitions in AJ, 74-18-31. 205 “Polaganje kamena temeljca Sokolskog Doma u Banjoj Luci,” Službeni list Vrbaske banovine, 24 December 1931, 4. Emphasis in original. The CPB correspondent present at the ceremony, himself a Sokol member, reported that Milosavljević’s speech “had called forth vivacious and spontaneous applause from the assembled citizenry.” CPB correspondent, Banja Luka to CPB, Belgrade, 20 December 1931. AJ, 38-2-7. 206 “Nj. V. Kralj Jugoslovenskom Sokolu,” Politika, 29 June 1930. 207 Report of the Commissar of Railroad and Border Police in Kotoriba to MUP, Section for State Security, 29 January 1930. AJ, f. 63-pov., kut. 5, fa.

Notes to pages 121–3  299 6, 6-11, 930. The Križari were the semilegal successors to the Orlovi. See chapter 5 for more on the Križari. 208 “Zakon o praznicima,” Službene novine, god. XI, broj 233 – XCV, 5 October 1929, 1884–5. 209 As the legal historian Mustafa Imamović points out, this infringed on the right to freedom of belief, because it constrained the ways in which people manifested their religious beliefs. Mustafa Imamović, “Opšte karakteristike vjerskog zakonodavstva šestojanuarske diktature,” Glasnik Rijaseta Islamske zajednice u SFRJ 2 (1991): 151. 210 HDA, f. 144, kut. 12, predmet 769/29, KBUSB, broj II 769 Pov. 1929, confidential circular to all mayors and police commanders, 25 November 1929. 211 District Chief in Žepče to Royal Banovina Administration of Drina Banovina, Dept. of State Security, 18 December 1929. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 273/1929. Cf. Police Administration in Sarajevo to KBU, 17 December 1929. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 304/1929. 212 “Organizacija štampe i propagande u Jugoslaviji,” n.d. AJ, 38-1-1. 213 S.P., “Nova pobeda,” Politika, 30 November 1929, 1. Pavelić and his partner Gustav Perčec had been condemned to death in absentia in July 1929. 214 “Prvi decembar 1929,” Politika, 1 December 1929, 1. 215 “Proslava 1 Decembra,” Politika, 2 December 1929, 1; “Velike manifestacije u Zagrebu za narodno i državno jedinstvo,” Politika, 2 December 1929, 3. 216 “Kralj i narod,” Politika, 17 December 1929. The article refers in ecumenical style to two rulers of nineteenth-century Serbia (Miloš and Mihajlo), and to two Croats, Franjo Rački and Bishop Juraj Strossmayer, viewed by the regime as having contributed to the development of Yugoslavism. See also “Oduševljenje manifestacije za Kralja, narodno i državno jedinstvo,” Politika, 18 December 1929. 217 See, for example, the leaflets from the Communist Party of Yugoslavia imploring workers to strike on May Day in 1929. AJ, f. 507, Central Committee of the Communist Party of Yugoslavia, 1929/7 and 1929/8. 218 After April 1929, the Justice Ministry had jurisdiction over all affairs formerly controlled by the Ministry of Religion. 219 Letter of Prime Minister Živković to Justice Minister Milan Srškić, 6 January 1931. AJ, f. 63-pov., kut. 9, fa. 8. 220 British Consul at Zagreb, Dispatch of 14 November 1933. AJ, f. 371, film 403, FO 371 213 18452, frames 34ff., C 9632/9611/92. 221 Rastko Nemanjić was the birth name of St Sava. 222 Klaus Buchenau, “Svetosavlje und Pravoslavlje: Nationales und Universales in der Serbischen Orthodoxie,” in Nationalisierung der Religion und

300  Notes to pages 123–6 Sakralisierung der Nation im östlichen Europa, ed. Martin Schulze Wessel (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2006), 203–32. 223 This interpretation of St Sava is also propagated in Murat Sinanagić, “Naš najveći narodni reformator,” Politika, 26 January 1930, 2. This is a rare example of a positive article on St Sava written by a Muslim. For an overview of the cultural impact of St Sava, see the chapter on the “Epoch of the Nemanjićs” in Jovan Deretić, Istorija srpske književnosti, 4th ed. (Belgrade: Prosveta, 2004), 101–65. 224 Mayer, Elementarbildung, 63. 225 KBUDB circular to all district chiefs in Drina Banovina, the mayors in Vinkovci, Vukovar, Sremska Mitrovica, and Sarajevo, the directors of state secondary schools (gimnazije) and teachers’ schools, and the administrations of all state secondary schools (građanske škole) in Drina Banovina, 15 January 1931. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 873/1932. 226 Viktor Novak, Antologija jugoslovenske misli i narodnog jedinstva: 1390–1930 (Belgrade: 1930); Mijo Radošević, Osnovi savremene Jugoslavije: Nova politika (Zagreb: 1935). The historian Aleksandar Jakir also mentions the ideologues Antun Barac, Milan Rešetar, Toma Maretić, Ferdo Šišić, Grga Novak, Milan Prelog, Marko Kostrenčić, and Vladimir Dvorniković. All of these men taught at the University of Zagreb. Cf. Jakir, Dalmatien, 355ff. On ideological battles at the University of Zagreb between Yugoslav unitarists and Croat nationalists, see Milosav Janićijević, Stvaralačka inteligencija međuratne Jugoslavije (Belgrade: Institut društvenih nauka – Centar za sociološka istraživanja, 1984), 128–30. 227 Ministry of Education instructions of 2 December 1928, quoted in transcription of veliki župan of Sarajevo Region to all state and private secondary schools, teachers’, građanski, and primary schools in the Sarajevo region, the school inspector for the city of Sarajevo, and regional school inspectors in Višegrad and Sarajevo, 8 June 1929. AJ, 66 (pov.)-86-234. 228 See the dossier in ABH, KBUDB-pov. 873/1932, and in particular parish priest Valerije Filipović, Tolisa, to Section of the Archbishop, Sarajevo, 25 January 1932; District Chief of Brčko to KBUDB, Educational Department, 6 February 1932; KBUDB to District Chief of Brčko, 5 March 1932. 229 Metropolitan Jovan Georgijević composed the “Hymn to St Sava” in the eighteenth century. I thank Jovo Bakić for providing me with the text of this hymn. 230 Transcription of letter from Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to the Educational Department of KBUDB, 15 January 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov., predmet 627/1930. For a short biography of Džemaludin Čaušević, see Mustafa

Notes to pages 126–7  301 Imamović, “O političkoj aktivnosti reis-ul-uleme Čauševića,” Glasnik Rijaseta Islamske zajednice u SFRJ 1 (1991): 26–34. 231 Transcription of letter from Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to all offices of muftis in Bosnia-Herzegovina, 11 January 1930. AJ, f. 63-pov., kut. 5, fa. 6, 6-7, 19, 27-30-930. 232 Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to KBUDB, 23 January 1930. AJ, 66-258-500. 233 Transcript of Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to KBUDB, Educational Department, 20 January 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 414/1930. 234 Transcript of letter from Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to the directorship of the women’s public school in Sarajevo, 22 January 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 414/1930. 235 Transcript of letter from Reis-ul-ulema Čaušević to the KBUDB Educational Department, 15 January 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 627/1930. 236 Transcript of letter from Reis-ul-ulema Čaušević to all offices of muftis in Bosnia-Herzegovina, 11 January 1930. AJ, f. 63-pov., kut. 5, fa. 6. 237 MUP, ODZ to Cabinet of the Justice Ministry, 24 February 1930. AJ, f. 63pov., kut. 5, fa. 6. Cf. transcript of Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to all muftis. ABH, KBUDB-pov., 414/1930. 238 Telegram from Avdo Hasanbegović, Assistant to ban of Drina Banovina to Cabinet of MUP and the Ministry of Education, 21 January 1930; draft telegram from Minister of Education Božidar Maksimović to KBU of Drina Banovina, 23 January 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-86-254. 239 Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to Minister of Education Božidar Maksimović, 23 January 1930. AJ, 66-258-500; Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to King Aleksandar, 21 January 1930, cited in Karić and Demirović, Reis Džemaludin Čaušević, vol. 1, 316–17. 240 Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to Minister of Justice Milan Srškić, 25 January 1930, cited in Karić and Demirović, 322–5. Čaušević said he would not change his policy even if the government showed him an order to do so signed by Mehmed Spaho. 241 According to Popović, Spaho and Čaušević had sparred over the proposed Law on the Islamic Religious Community, which proposed centralizing Islamic religious authority in Belgrade. Spaho had attacked the draft law as an affront against Bosnia-Herzegovina; Čaušević had travelled to Belgrade hoping to secure the position as Reis-ul-Ulema of all Muslims in Yugoslavia. Yet once negotiations began with the government, Čaušević realized that the new law would completely subordinate the Islamic clergy to the state. He therefore returned to Sarajevo and began attacking the government over the symbolic issue of the St Sava

302  Notes to pages 127–8 Day celebrations. Ban Velimir Popović to Minister of Education Božidar Maksimović, 29 January 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-86-254. 242 Rather than blaming the Serb teacher who had invited students to sing “voluntarily” the “Hymn to St Sava,” the banovina administration put the onus of religious intolerance on the daughter of the Muslim religious instructor in the same school. This girl had allegedly urged other Muslim girls to cover their ears in order to avoid hearing “Vlach songs.” Report of KBUDB, 30 January 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov., 414/1930. 243 Ban Velimir Popović to Minister of Education Božidar Maksimović, 29 January 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-86-254. 244 By contrast, the historian Mustafa Imamović maintains that Čaušević never nurtured any political ambitions. Imamović, “O političkoj aktivnosti,” 26–34. 245 In a statement unusual for its clear condemnation of anti-Islamic sentiment, Ban Popović told the Minister of Education that he had complained – albeit post facto – about the liturgy on St Sava’s Day at the Serbian Orthodox theological seminary in Sarajevo. At the ceremony, which Popović had attended, a seminary student had recited a poem in which the Koran was called a “lie.” Ban Velimir Popović to Minister of Education Božidar Maksimović, 29 January 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-86-254. 246 In another case in January 1930, in Fojnica in Bosnia, the imam Ibrahim Borić was accused by the mayor of spreading hatred and of being a “rebel” after he opposed the observation of St Sava’s Day in the schools. Karić and Demirović, Reis Džemaludin Čaušević, 313. 247 See chapter 5. Some sporadic scuffles did, however, take place between the government and the Roman Catholic Church prior to 1935 with regard to St Sava. For instance, in December 1933, Bauer protested the intervention of Serbian Orthodox officials in the affairs of private Catholic schools with regard to the St Sava’s Day celebration. Serbian Orthodox officials in Slavonska Požega had tried to force the officials of local Catholic girls’ schools to buy icons of St Sava to display in classrooms. At the same time, the government claimed that members of the Roman Catholic clergy were continuing to agitate against the holiday even though some Catholic schools had been allowed to use modified versions of the “Hymn to St Sava.” These versions did not mention St Sava as a Serb figure. Cf. HDA, f. 145, kut. 8, 219/33. 248 Archival documents indicate that Sava, Drina, and Vrbas banovinas were the key battlefields for this holiday. I have not conducted research in Macedonia (i.e., in Vardar Banovina) and few documents are available for Zeta Banovina, so I am unable to make any observations about the

Notes to pages 128–30  303 intensity of conflict around this holiday there. However, in general, the large Muslim populations of those two banovinas were more passive than that of Drina Banovina, which was the hotbed of the JMO. 249 Report of KBUDB, 30 January 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 414/1930. 250 Telegram of the Ministry of Education to KBUDB, 23 January 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 627/1930. 251 Division General Danilo Kalafatović to the Ministry of Army and Navy, 4 February 1930. AJ 63-pov., kut. 5, fa. 6. 252 Čaušević complained that individual Serbian Orthodox priests and Serb civil servants had “threatened” Muslim students and that some of these same officials told their Muslim students “it is necessary to celebrate St Sava, and to know that the only real faith is the Orthodox faith.” Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to Minister of Education Božidar Maksimović, 23 January 1930. AJ, 66-258-500. 253 Needless to say, however, many Serb state officials were blind to any potential contradictions. For them, the holiday could be both a religious holiday and a state holiday. “Zakon o praznicima,” Službene novine, god. XI, broj 233 – XCV, 5 October 1929, 1884–5. The law was signed by King Aleksandar on 27 September 1929. “Zakon o praznicima,” Službene novine, god. XI, broj 233 – XCV, 5 October 1929, 1884–5. 254 See Ulema-Medžlis in Sarajevo to KBU of Drina Banovina, 29 June 1931, which cited a State Council decision of 25 June 1931. However, this ruling by the State Council was never systematically respected. 255 Given the prevalent interwar Serbian assumptions about the “originally” Serbian nature of the Muslim Slavs of Yugoslavia, it is not far-fetched to argue that at least some of the officials would have assumed that the Muslims, as “Serbs,” would not have objected to the Hymn of St Sava. 256 Although the cited case stems from October 1932 – that is, not from the January period of the St Sava celebration – it is germane to the topic as it was found in a police dossier about the holiday. Lalić had raised the ire of Čaušević by questioning the latter’s interpretation of Islam. See transcription of Reis-ul-Ulema Čaušević to the Directorship of the 12th National Elementary School, 29 January 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-86-254. 257 Transcript of complaint filed by Zerif Skender and other Muslim parents, 10 October 1932. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 873/1932. 258 Draft letter from KBUDB to the Eparchial Ecclesiastical Court of the Dabrobosanski Eparchate, November 1932. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 873/1932. See also draft letter from KBUDB to the Office of the Chief Mufti, 24 November 1932. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 873/1932. 259 Mayer, Elementarbildung, 64n38.

304  Notes to pages 130–3 260 In 1932, an official study found that fewer than half of all civil servants in Yugoslavia had an education level qualifying them for their post. Mayer, Elementarbildung, 70. 261 Although it stems from 1931, this report is indicative of the atmosphere for the duration of the dictatorship and, indeed, the entire interwar period. 262 MUP to KBUDB, 30 September 1931. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 2684/1931. “Swabians” referred generically to any German-speaker. Here, it alludes to those Muslims who fought on the side of the Habsburg forces during the First World War. 263 “Banac, The National Question, 214n36. 264 Mustafa Imamović, “Pravni položaj i organizacija Srpske pravoslavne crkve u Jugoslaviji, 1918–1941. godine,” Godišnjak Pravnog fakulteta u Sarajevu 41 (1998): 183. 265 Mustafa Imamović, “Pitanje Konkordata u Jugoslaviji, 1918–1941,” in Zbornik radova o fra Anđelu Zvizdoviću (Sarajevo-Fojnica: 2000). In an imperfect solution, the concordat previously signed between the Kingdom of Serbia and the Holy See remained in effect during the interwar period. 266 This is not to say that relations between the state and the Serbian Orthodox Church were always harmonious. For example, the relationship between King Aleksandar and Patriarch Varnava (elected April 1930) were tested by corruption in the Serbian Orthodox Church and by the latter’s penchant for Russian prostitutes. See A SANU, f. 14387, 9447. On the legal status of the Serbian Orthodox Church in the interwar period, see Imamović, “Pravni položaj i organizacija.” On the question of the concordat, see Imamović, “Pitanje Konkordata.” 267 Imamović, “Pitanje Konkordata,” 534. Only once during the period of the dictatorship did a law refer to the Presidency of the Bishops’ Conference. However, Imamović does not mention that, by communicating regularly with the Conference, the Yugoslav government de facto recognized that body as a legitimate representative of the interests of the Roman Catholic Church in Yugoslavia. 268 Maček had been arrested previously, in September 1929, but had been released immediately. On the plot and the subsequent trial, see Boban, Maček, vol. I, 48–51. Boban argues that the arrival of the second Croat delegation was intended to divert attention from the trial of Maček. 269 “Svi zaverenici su priznali osim g. dr. Vl. Mačka [sic],” Politika, 25 December 1929, 3. 270 Area Inspector, Dubrovnik to Administrative Department of KBU of Zeta Banovina, 4 January 1930. DAD, fond Okružnog inspektorata u Dubrovniku, kut. 79.

Notes to pages 133–8  305 271 The regime’s public optimism did not prevent it from putting the gendarmerie on alert against would-be protesters on 6 January 1930. See, for example, KBUDB circular of 4 January 1930. ABH, KBUDB,-pov., 402/1930. 272 Cf. “Pregled rada Kraljevske Vlade u 1929 godini,” Politika, 2 January 1930, 2; Branko Kaluđerčić, “Šesti januar 1929 i narodno jedinstvo,” Politika, 5 January 1930, 2; “Godinu Dana,” Politika, 6–9 January 1930, 1. 273 Branko Kaluđerčić, “Šesti januar 1929 i narodno jedinstvo,” Politika, 5 January 1930, 2. Emphasis in original. 274 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 50n39. 275 The British were particularly prone to mentioning the fate of the Obrenovićes, and worried persistently about the effect of the regime’s failures on Aleksandar. In his 1930 annual report, the British minister at Belgrade wrote that “dictatorships are a form a [sic] playing with fire, and if persisted in longer than they are really necessary are apt to end in serious disaster. As King Alexander once said to me: ‘All Slavs are anarchists at heart,’ and the greatest defect of all in this dictatorship is the manner in which the King exposes himself to the entire responsibility for government … Nor is the spirit of the army quite as good as it was. It behoves, therefore, the King to walk warily.” Henderson to FO, “Yugoslavia, Annual Report, 1930,” 3 March 1931. AJ, f. 371, FO 371 225 15273, C 1538/1538/92, frame 100. For the long-lasting and negative impression left on Western opinion by the 1903 assassination, see Maria Todorova, Imagining the Balkans (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 118. Chapter 4 1 Quoted in “‘Plemenski nesporazum, verska proganjanja i sve zablude istorijskih provincijalizama imaju da iščeznu za uvek pred velikom Jugoslovenskom [sic] misli’,” Politika, 5 August 1930, 1. 2 On the trial, see Ljubo Boban, Maček i politika HSS 1928–1941. Iz povijesti hrvatskog pitanja (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1974), vol. I, 50–53; Vladko Maček, In the Struggle for Freedom, trans. Elizabeth and Stjepan Gazi (University Park: Pennsylvania University State Press, 1957), 130–3. 3 Henderson to Sargent (FO), “Trial of Doctor Macek,” 16 May 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, FO 371 212 14441, C 3918/144/92, frame 40. 4 On 22 April 1930, King Aleksandar received a delegation of 1,579 Croat peasants. Among Sarajevo Croats, rumours had it that the government was using forged notes from Maček in which he recommended that Croats participate in the delegations. Tomislav Išek, Hrvatska seljačka stranka u Bosni i Hercegovini, 1929–1941 (Sarajevo: Institut za istoriju u Sarajevu, 1991), 44–5. British diplomats also heard that the Croats

306  Notes to pages 138–9









travelling to Belgrade had been promised that the judges would be more lenient towards Maček if large numbers of Croat peasants went to Belgrade to demonstrate their loyalty. Henderson to FO, “Trial of Dr Macek for complicity in bomb outrages at Zagreb,” 22 April 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, frame 22f., FO 371 212 14441, C 3241/144/92. The British Consul at Sarajevo commented scathingly on the composition of the April 1930 delegation, noting that “the most conspicuous figures among the Sarajevo group, which did not include any of the more prominent local Raditchists, were a butcher and an innkeeper, both of whom are reported to be in serious financial straits and heavily indebted to the local inland revenue department.” These delegations were contrasted negatively with the delegations of December 1929 and January 1930. Report of British Consul at Sarajevo in Henderson to FO, “Trial of Dr Macek for complicity in bomb outrage at Zagreb,” 5 May 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, FO 371 212 14441, C 3615/144/92, frame 37. 5 Boban paints a portrait of a principled man who could not be tempted. Boban, Maček, vol. I, 51. By contrast, the British reported that before the trial commenced, King Aleksandar offered Maček the post of ban of Sava Banovina. According to this version, Maček countered by demanding the inclusion of Dalmatia in Sava Banovina and the restoration of a Croatian parliament. The British Consul at Zagreb thought that “Maček was embarrassed by this offer, and had no desire to accept it.” Although the British thought that Maček was innocent, they also worried that the HSS might have turned a blind eye to extremists, especially among Croat youth. British Consul at Zagreb to Henderson, 22 January 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, FO 371 212 14440, C 707/144/92, frame 142. 6 Maček, quoted in Henderson to FO, “Trial of Dr Macek and other Croats for complicity in a terrorist organisation,” 19 June 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, FO 371 212 14441, C 5021/144/92, frame 55. 7 “Završen je pretres zagrebačkim teroristima,” Politika, 8–10 June 1930, 5. 8 S.B., “Ulazak četvorice bivših radićevaca u vladu,” Politika, 21 May 1930, 1. 9 Several of the new Croat ministers apparently also bargained for a redivision of the country into three parts: Croatia, Slovenia, and Serbia. Henderson to Sargent (FO), “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 28 May 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, FO 371 212 14441, C 3615/144/92, frame 49. See also Henderson to Sargent (FO), “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 15 April 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, FO 371 212 14441, C 3106/144/92, frame 12. 10 Dragoljub Jovanović, Političke uspomene: Saznanja (Belgrade: Kultura, 1997), 9, 111.

Notes to pages 139–40  307 11 Rudolf Herceg, a prominent HSS member and editor of the banned proHSS newspaper Narodni val, led Hrvatska sloga. See Ministry of Internal Affairs, Department of Public Security, to veliki župan of Zagreb Region, 9 April 1929. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 26, inv. br. 1973. Cf. Veliki župan of Zagreb Region to the presidential office of the police administration in Zagreb, directors of city police in Varaždin, Sisak, and Križevci, and all district chiefs, 17 August 1929. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 26, inv. br. 1973. For a concise overview of the establishment and platform of Hrvatska sloga, see Presidential Office of the Royal Prosecutorial Office in Zagreb to veliki župan of Zagreb region, 9 April 1929. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 26, inv. br. 1973. 12 Responses from local officials are located in the same dossier. Interestingly, despite official claims about the temporary nature of the regime, the circular sent to local officials on 14 April 1929 expressed explicit concern that the members of Hrvatska sloga exhibited “disbelief in the ability, power, and long duration of this regime.” In addition, the officials were troubled by the “cult of Stjepan Radić” cultivated by Hrvatska sloga. Transcription of VŽZO circular to Royal Prosecutor, all district chiefs, and Royal Prosecutor at Sisak, 14 April 1929. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 26, inv. br. 1973. 13 Kovačević’s full name was Dragutin Karla Kovačević, but he was almost always identified as Karla Kovačević. 14 Report of British Consul at Sarajevo in Henderson to FO, “Trial of Dr Macek for complicity in bomb outrage at Zagreb,” 5 May 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, frame 37, FO 371 212 14441, C 3615/144/92. 15 I thank Mark Biondich for directing my attention to this parallel. 16 “Veličanstvena seljačka skupština u Zagrebu,” Politika 9 December 1930, 1. The newspaper claimed that roughly 150,000 peasants attended the rally. Given the much greater popularity of Stjepan Radić and the estimate that a maximum of 300,000 people attended his funeral in Zagreb in August 1928, this figure for the Kovačević rally seems wildly unrealistic. Mark Biondich, Stjepan Radić, the Croat Peasant Party, and the Politics of Mass Mobilization, 1904–1928 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000), 241. The British Consul at Zagreb estimated attendance at 50,000, and noted that “it is difficult to estimate [the] importance of [the] meeting, preparation of which indicates official inspiration.” Leigh-Smith to FO, “Mass meeting of peasants held at Zagreb on 8 December,” 12 December 1930. AJ, f. 371, FO 371 212 14442, C 9194/144/92, frame 85. On the preparations for the rally, see the circular sent by KBUSB, HDA, grupa VI, kut. 8, inv. br. 381. Karla Kovačević sent a letter to his “friends” on 6 November

308  Notes to pages 140–2













1930 in which he promised that free transportation would be provided to the rally. Still, many district chiefs professed concern that the impoverished peasantry would not be able to attend. Cf. Karla Kovačević to “dear friend,” 6 November 1930; District Chief of Slunj to KBUSB-ODZ, 24 November 1930. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 8, inv. br. 381. 17 See CPB correspondent at Zagreb to Milan Nikolić, Deputy Chief of the CPB, 12 May 1931. AJ, 38-93-224. In 1930, another Croat, Franjo Mežnarić, had formed the Seljački Savez (Peasant Union). This movement made little headway because it was opposed by both the regime and the HSS. Cf. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 8, inv. br. 354. 18 Čika, meaning roughly “sir,” “mister,” or “uncle” is usually used by children addressing adult men. Peasants speaking at the rally often referred to Kovačević as “čika” or “brat” (brother). 19 For a typical official report on the lingering effects of Stjepan Radić’s ideas, see veliki župan of Zagreb region to MUP, Cabinet, “Report on the State of Public Administration in the Month of June 1929,” 6 July 1929. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 24, inv. br. 1424. 20 That is, such as the present one. “Dve poruke pok. Stjepana Radića,” Politika, 18 April 1930. The article was a reprint of a piece from Kovačević’s organ, Seljački glas. 21 Karla Kovačević, ed., Seljačka božićnica. Prosvjetno-gospodarska smotra i kalendar, 1931 (Zagreb: Tisak Jugoslavenske štampe, 1931). 22 Kovačević, ed., Seljačka božićnica, 31. 23 Išek, Hrvatska seljačka stranka, 46. Cf. HDA, grupa VI, inv. br. 230, 395, 443, 541. In addition, see, for example, the cases in AJ, 66 (pov.)-13. 24 Kovačević, ed., Seljačka božićnica, 39. 25 Kovačević, ed., Seljačka božićnica, 32. Even though Kovačević rejected it explicitly, what he was describing was an implicitly Yugoslav corporatist vision of society. Indeed, it is difficult to read this passage by Kovačević without thinking of contemporary corporatist peasantism in Western Europe. Cf. Robert O. Paxton, French Peasant Fascism: Henry Dorgères’s Greenshirts and the Crises of French Agriculture, 1929–1939 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997). 26 Ban of Sava Banovina Ivo Perović to all district chiefs and all city police directorates, 20 April 1931. HDA, f. 145, kut. 3, pr. 201/31-str. pov. The same circular noted that national minorities (“Czechs, Hungarians, Ruthenians, Italians, etc.”) should only be allowed to meet in a non-political manner, and then only to manifest their “love towards His Majesty the King and the Kingdom of Yugoslavia and their satisfaction with the present state of affairs in the state.”

Notes to pages 142–3  309 27 The peasant assemblies organized by Kovačević routinely condemned the activities of Pavelić and other Croat émigrés. For example, see the report on a May 1931 rally by 2,000 people at Pakrac in Cabinet of MUP to CPB, 7 May 1931. AJ, 38-93-224. 28 On the security measures taken to protect Kovačević, see KBUSB to district chiefs, 27 December 1930. HDA, f. 145, kut. 2, pr. 501/30-str. pov. In March 1931, the authorities reported on an alleged émigré plot to assassinate Kovačević, as well as against Ban Ivo Perović. KBUSB circular to area inspectors, Presidential Office of Police Administration in Zagreb, all district chiefs, and all police directorates, 12 March 1931. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 8, inv. br. 387. 29 At an April 1931 rally in Novi Marof, police agents overheard peasants in the audience shouting obscene curses at Kovačević and yelling “Crkao!” (essentially, “May he croak!”) instead of “Živio!” (“Long Live!”) when King Aleksandar’s name was mentioned. Needless to say, the police agents arrested the offending peasants. Area inspectorate at Varaždin to KBUSB, 28 April 1931. HDA, f. 144, kut. 122, 9473/31-pov. 30 Janko Vargović, peasant from Bazije, speaking at a Kovačević rally in Virovitica. Police transcript of rally held 3 May 1931. AJ, 38-93-224. 31 Milan Markušev, peasant from Suhopolje. See also note 30. 32 Police record of Kovačević rally of 3 May 1931 in Virovitica. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 8, inv. br. 387. 33 For an anti-Kovačević point of view, see the anonymous letter sent to the Royal Court by a group of “Croats, who wish this state well.” Calling Kovačević a “peasant good-for-nothing” (seljački propalica), the authors deftly attach almost every aspect of state Yugoslavism and discrimination against Croats in the civil service. The authors highlight their loyalty to the ideas of 6 January but express enormous discontent with the actual evolution of events. Towards the end of their letter, they advise the king that “it is better to have 10 satisfied Croats than 100 unsatisfied Yugoslavs … Then the Serb and Croat people will not need the monkey Karla and the banovina councilors and the others. It will cease to be necessary to hold such a strong police apparatus and so many confidants, who cost heavy millions [teške milijune].” Anonymous letter to Royal Court, 1930[?]. AJ, 74-11-22, 390–400. 34 In February 1931, the KBUSB, acting on orders from MUP, distributed a circular calling for the strictest prosecution of anyone caught spreading “false rumours” about Kovačević. KBUSB to Presidential Office of Police Administration in Zagreb, all district chiefs, all city police directorates, and all commissars of the railroad and border police, 19 February 1931.

310  Notes to pages 143–6



















HDA, f. 145, kut. 40, 115-pov. On rumours about embezzlement, see the KBUSB circular sent 23 February 1931 in the same reference. 35 Thus the gendarmes near Osijek in January 1931 reported that people were saying that “that Karlo [sic] Kovačević is remunerated excellently for his action … but that the popular masses have no faith in him.” Osijek gendarmerie company to regional inspectorate at Osijek, 23 January 1931. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 8, inv. br. 387. 36 This refers to the post–First World War currency reform in Yugoslavia, when the Habsburg areas were forced to give up their Habsburg crowns at a 4:1 ratio for Yugoslav dinars. Croat economists and politicians asserted that this was an unrealistic and unfavourable rate of exchange. 37 Inserted as attachment to District Chief of Senj to KBUSB, 8 January 1931. HDA, f. 144, kut. 89, pr. 784/31-pov. Emphasis in original. 38 “Dve godine rada,” Politika, 6–9 January 1931, 1. 39 Karla Kovačević met an ignominious and tragic end in the Stara Gradiška concentration camp run by the Ustaša during the Second World War. Ilija Jakovljević, Konclogor na Savi (Zagreb: Konzor, 1999), 141–4. 40 Cf. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 5, inv. br. 230; HDA, grupa VI, kut. 8, inv. br. 395. 41 Most of the principle figures gathered around the Adriatic Sentinel had participated actively in Yugoslav national movements before the First World War. 42 Cf. “Neke osnovne misli ideologije Jadranske Straže,” Jadranska straža, god. X (1932), 43–8. This article was reprinted from the almanac of JS from 1925. 43 On the relationship between the Adriatic Sentinel and the Yugoslav Sokol movement, see “Sokolstvo i Jadranska Straža,” Jadranska straža, god. IX (1931), br. 8, 197ff; P. Bogović, “Za širenje naše ideologije,” Jadranska straža, god. X (1932), br. 2, 49ff. See also the Split journal Soko na Jadranu. 44 For somewhat hagiographic portraits of Ivo Tartalja, see Nora MachiedoMladinić, “Dr. Ivo Tartaglia, splitski mecena,” Mogućnosti 10–12 (1996); Nora Machiedo-Mladinić, “Životni put dr. Ive Tartaglie,” Radovi Zavoda za hrvatsku povijest 26 (1993): 281–8. 45 Nora Machiedo-Mladinić, “Jadranska straža – zaboravljena pomorska organizacija,” Adrias 6–7 (1996): 84, 92. At the 1932 annual assembly of the Adriatic Sentinel, Tartalja cited a figure of 100,000 members. “Rezolucija glavne skupštine Jadranske straže u Skoplju 29-31 X 1932,” Jadranska straža, god. X (1932), br. 12, 450. 46 Besides focusing on maritime and naval matters, these publications nurtured a cult of the Karađorđević dynasty. Miloš Crnjanski, “Naslednik

Notes to pages 146–50  311















prestola na Jadranu,” in Almanah jadranske straže za 1928./29. godinu, ed. Stanko Babić (Belgrade: Oblasni odbor Jadranske straže, 1928), 230. 47 Machiedo-Mladinić, “Dr. Ivo Tartaglia,” 288. 48 Silvije Alfirević, “6. januara 1929,” Jadranska straža, god. VII (1929), br. 3, 74ff. See also the two-year anniversary article, “Šesti januar,” god. IX (1931), br. 1, 1ff. 49 Ordinarily, ekavian texts would only appear in Serbian Cyrillic, while ijekavian might appear in either script. 50 AJ 66-477-753, “Kako se osnivaju Sekcije podmlatka Jadranske straže,” Mladi stražar, br. 4, 15 November 1929. 51 Niko Bartulović, “Pobeda rase,” Jadranska straža, god. VII (1929), br. 11, 293–5. Bartulović was a curious character, belonging to the fiercest of pro-Yugoslav Croats. In the 1920s, he had been active in the ultraunitarist Organization of Yugoslav Nationalists (ORJUNA). He would eventually meet his demise while fighting with the Serb nationalist and Royalist forces of Dragoljub (Draža) Mihailović in the Second World War. Cf. Niko Bartulović, Na prelomu (Belgrade: Narodna štamparija, 1929); Niko Bartulović, Od revolucionarne omladine do Orjune (Split: Direktorium Orjune, 1925). 52 Writing later about the first year of the Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, the union’s secretary, Ante Brozović, noted that “the fusion of tribal societies was associated with every possible difficulty. And this prevented its regular work for almost the entire first year.” Ante Brozović, ed., Sokolski zbornik: Godina I (Belgrade: 1934), 227. 53 “Nj. V. Kralj Jugoslovenskom Sokolu,” Politika, 29 June 1930, 1. 54 “Dictatorship in Yugoslavia,” extract from The Times (London), 10 July 1930. Newsclipping in FO document, 10 July 1930. AJ, f. 371, film 393, FO 371 212 14441, C 5716/144/92, frame 102. 55 For a cogent report on the state of the Union of Sokols in one major region of Yugoslavia at this time, see Stenographic Records of Third Meeting, First Session, 22 January 1931. ARS, f. 77, fa. 1. 56 The present analysis of the 4 July 1930 Ministerial Council meeting (Session XVII of 1930) is based on the minutes of that session. AJ, 138-1-1, 210-211. 57 “Značajna sednica Ministarskog Saveta,” Politika, 5 July 1930, 1. 58 Ministerial Council resolution of 4 July 1930 quoted in KBUSB circular to all departments of the KBU, all area inspectorates, all district chiefs, the police administration in Zagreb, all city police directorates, all border police commissars, and all mayors, 30 September 1930. HDA, f. 180, kut. 2, 1006/30-pov.

312  Notes to pages 150–2 59 Ibid. “With this goal [of the fusion of ideology and schooling], the unification of education was implemented through the passage of the Law on Popular Schools [narodne škole] (12 December 1929), the Law on Teacher’s Schools (17 September 1929), [and] the Law on Middle Schools (31 August 1929). Belgrade University…was given a special place in this cultural politics of the regime.” Ljubodrag Dimić, Kulturna politika Kraljevine Jugoslavije, 1918–1941 (Belgrade: Stubovi kulture, 1996–7), vol. III, 339. Cf. Ljubodrag Dimić, “Država, integralno jugoslovenstvo i kultura,” Književnost, nos. 1–3 (1994): 181. 60 Nikola Žutić, Sokoli: Ideologija u fizičkoj kulturi Kraljevine Jugoslavije, 1929–1941 (Belgrade: Angrotrade, 1991), 39. 61 Živković had first raised this issue at the 4 July 1930 meeting. Minutes of Ministerial Council meeting (Session XXIII of 1930, held 25 August 1930). AJ, 138-1-1, 215. The nature of the new “organization” was treated in slightly more detail at the following session. The ministers argued about whether it should emerge “from above” or “from below.” They also voiced the fear that such a move could cause the emergence of a “counter-organization.” See Minutes of Ministerial Council meeting (Session XXIV of 1930, held 4 September 1930). AJ, 138-1-1-, 216. 62 Prime Minister Živković, speech made in Banja Luka at the end of July 1930, quoted in Ljubodrag Dimić, Nikola Žutić, and Blagoje Isailović, ed., Zapisnici sa sednica Ministarskog saveta Kraljevine Jugoslavije, 1929–1931 (Belgrade: Sluzbeni list SRJ, Arhiv Jugoslavije, 2002), lix. 63 Dimitrije Mitrinović, “Vidovdan Jugoslavije,” Politika, 28 June 1930, 2. Emphasis in original. On the life and ideas of Dimitrije Mitrinović, see Predrag Palavestra, Dogma i utopija Dimitrija Mitrinovića: Počeci srpske književne avangarde (Belgrade: Slovo ljubve, 1977). 64 Viktor Novak, Antologija jugoslovenske misli i narodnog jedinstva: 1390–1930 (Belgrade: 1930), xxxix, xli. 65 Mijo Radošević, Osnovi savremene Jugoslavije: Nova politika (Zagreb: 1935), 585, 93. On “modern synthetic Yugoslavism,” see Aleksandar Jakir, Dalmatien zwischen den Weltkriegen. Agrarische und urbane Lebenswelt und das Scheitern der jugoslawischen Integration, Südosteuropäische Arbeiten (Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 1999), 360. 66 See “Radne hipoteze” in Nikola Pašić, Sloga Srba-Hrvata (Belgrade: Publikum, 1995), 34–5. 67 Thus Viktor Novak concluded the polemical introduction to his ostensibly unitarist work, Antologija jugoslovenske misli i narodnog jedinstva, with the signature “In Belgrade on Vidovdan 1930.” Even if his argument had been consistent and attractive to Croats and Slovenes, he wounded it

Notes to pages 152–3  313













mortally at the end by signing the essay on Vidovdan. Novak, Antologija, lxv. 68 Svetozar Pribićević, Diktatura kralja Aleksandra, trans. Dražen Budiša and Božidar Petrač (Zagreb: Globus, 1990), 25. 69 The distinction made by Miloš Crnjanski, a Yugoslav intellectual and diplomat, between “nationalism,” which is positive, and “separatism,” which is negative, is typical. Miloš Crnjanski, Politički spisi (Belgrade: Sfairos, 1989), 80–3. In his study on interwar Dalmatia, Aleksandar Jakir likewise notes that the tendency of Yugoslav officials to distinguish between a “loyal” Serbian Orthodox Church and a Roman Catholic Church allegedly “in the chains of bondage and foreign dictate” pushed the Croats even closer to the latter church. Jakir, Dalmatien, 128. 70 Jakir, Dalmatien, 383. Jakir is here referring to the KBU of Littoral Banovina. 71 Pribićević, Diktatura, 26. 72 “Stare, slavom uvenčane zastave predaju se danas istoriji,” Politika, 6 September 1930, 1; “Nj. V. Kralj predao je juče vojsci nove, jugoslovenske zastave,” Politika, 7 September 1930, 1. 73 See, for example, Serbian Orthodox Patriarch Gavrilo’s account of his disastrous encounter with Petar Živković, which took place in either late 1929 or early 1930 (no precise date is given) before Gavrilo became patriarch. Gavrilo accused Živković of running roughshod over Serbian culture and traditions. In addition, Gavrilo opposed the government’s proposed law on the Serbian Orthodox Church. Gavrilo Dožić, Memoari Patrijarha srpskog Gavrila, 34–8. For an overview of this period from a perspective close to the Serbian Orthodox Church, see Ðoko Slijepčević, Istorija Srpske pravoslavne crkve. II. knjiga: Od početka XIX veka do kraja Drugog svetskog rata (Munich: Iskra, 1966), 610–62. 74 Dimić, Kulturna politika, vol. III, 349. Dimić notes that the most eager supporters of integral Yugoslavism at the University of Belgrade were Serbs from outside Serbia proper and Croats. 75 By contrast, Mijo Radošević, a Croat unitarist, did not hesitate to identify both Nikola Pašić and Stjepan Radić as “demagogues” whose antics had wrought havoc on the Yugoslav body politic. “Serb imperialism” and “hegemony ” had provoked “Croat separatism,” and the conflict generated between these two pathogens threatened to destroy the Yugoslav state. Radošević, Osnovi, 20–34, 504–5. Cf. Crnjanski, Politički spisi, 81f. 76 Ivo Banac, The National Question in Yugoslavia: Origins, History, Politics (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984), 144.

314  Notes to pages 154–7 77 It bears reminding that the editor of the newspaper was the Radical politician Milan Srškić, who served as Minister of Justice after 6 January 1929. 78 “Oni nam prete …,” Glas Bosne, 13 November 1928, 1. 79 Janko Baričević, “Bez srdžbe i bez mržnje,” Politika, 31 August 1928, 1. Emphasis in original. 80 Silvije Alfirević, “6 January 1929,” Jadranska straža, god. VII (1929), br. 3, 74. Silvije Alfirević worked as a schoolteacher and also figured prominently in another “national organization,” the cultural and literary society Jugoslavenska matica. 81 Cited (without date) in Branislav Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u evropskoj politiici (Beograd: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002), 180. 82 A SANU, Papers of Fedor Nikić, VIII A, narration [kazivanje] of Nikola Uzunović quoted in Branislav Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević: Srpsko-hrvatski spor (Belgrade: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002), 207. 83 K., “Vraćanja na ishodnu godinu,” Politika, 26 November 1932, 1. 84 “Nj. V. Kralj predao je juče vojsci nove, jugoslovenske zastave,” Politika, 7 September 1930, 3. 85 “Veličanstvena seljačka skupština u Zagrebu,” Politika, 9 December 1930, 1. 86 Tone Kamenjak, “Krv,” Soko na Jadranu, god. IV (1930), br. 9, 109. Kamenjak wrote this poem on 6 September 1930, that is, Crown Prince Petar’s birthday and the day of the “burial” of the Serbian military colours. 87 “Janez,” “Jovan,” and “Ivan” are, respectively, the Slovene, Serbian, and Croatian forms of the same name. Jos. Boko, “Razvoj mišljenja o vrijednosti tijela čovječjega,” Soko na Jadranu, god. IV (1930), br. 5, 72. 88 Cf. “Pred slikom lipanjskih žrtava,” Dom, 2 April 1930, HDA, fond of Iljko Karaman. 89 L.v. [Ivo Pilar] Südland, Južnoslavensko pitanje: Prikaz cjelokupnog pitanja, trans. Fedor Pucek (Varaždin: Hrvatska demokratska stranka, 1990), 149f. 90 Mladen Lorković, Narod i zemlja Hrvata (Zagreb: Matica Hrvatska, 1939), 46. Mladen Lorković later became a high-ranking official in the Croat fascist state. Cf. Cherubin Šegvić, Die Kroaten und ihre Mission während Dreizehn Jahrhunderte der Geschichte: Historisch-Etnographische Betrachtungen, trans. Peroslav Paskiević (Zagreb: 1941), 22, 33. “One can confirm the truth of the assertion contained in a folksong which says: the Croats are a people of rulers’ blood [Herrenblut] … This blood-drenched land is named Croatia and Dalmatia.”

Notes to pages 157–8  315 91 Mustafa Imamović, Historija Bošnjaka, 2nd ed. (Sarajevo: Bošnjačka zajednica kulture Preporod, 1998), 509. In this attitude, the Reis-ul-Ulema was not alone. In 1930, Patriarch Gavrilo of the Serbian Orthodox Church told Prime Minister Živković that the government could not treat high-ranking Orthodox clergy like students at a lecture. Dožić, Memoari, 36. 92 See the correspondence between the Supreme Mufti and the Ministry of Justice in November and December 1929, which led to a decision to appoint a commission to draft a law on the Islamic religious community. AJ, f. 63 (versko odeljenje), fa. 134. 93 The Supreme Mufti complained to the Ministry of Justice that the ministry had, in the course of drafting the new legislation, given excessive or even exclusive weight to the views of Bosnia and Herzegovina (read: Čaušević). Supreme Mufti to Minister of Justice, 30 December 1929. AJ, f. 63 (versko odeljenje), fa. 134. 94 “Zakon o islamskoj verskoj zajednici,” Službene novine Kraljevine Jugoslavije, god. XII, br. 29-X, 2 February 1930, 105–9. Some small groups of Muslims and members of the Islamic clergy wrote to King Aleksandar wishing to express their thanks for the law on the IVZ. See AJ, 74-75-107, 72–82. 95 “Ustav islamske verske zajednice Kraljevine Jugoslavije,” Službene Novine, god. XII, br. 167-LXIII, 25 July 1930, 1589–99. 96 Mustafa Imamović, “Opšte karakteristike vjerskog zakonodavstva šestojanuarske diktature,” Glasnik Rijaseta Islamske zajednice u SFRJ 2 (1991): 158. 97 Mustafa Imamović, “O političkoj aktivnosti reis-ul-uleme Čauševića,” Glasnik Rijaseta Islamske zajednice u SFRJ 1 (1991): 29. 98 Cf. “Za Reis-El-Ulemu islamske veroispovesti postavljen je g. Čaušević,” Politika, 27 February 1930, 3; “G. Čaušević o svom naimenovanju,” 28 February 1930, 2. Čaušević asked to be retired in April 1930. In June 1930, the state portrayed Čaušević’s retirement as a purely voluntary matter, not mentioning any hint of a dispute. See “Izbor kandidata za reis-ul-ulemu,” Politika, 12 June 1930, 3. 99 Pursuant to the new law on the IVZ, Maglajlić was one of three nominated for the post by a select group of clergy (weighted in favour of Belgrade). King Aleksandar chose among the three nominees in June 1930. See “Izbor kandidata za reis-ul-ulemu,” Politika, 12 June 1930, 3. Cf. “Svečano ustoličenje Reis ul uleme g Maglajlića,” Politika, 30 October 1930, 3. The front page of the same day’s newspaper featured an editorial on Salih Baljić, “G. Salih Baljić, u ime Muslimana[,] pozdravlja delo Nj. V. Kralja.”

316  Notes to pages 158–9 100 Šaćir Filandra, Bošnjačka politika u XX. stoljeću (Sarajevo: Sejtarija, 1998), 59; Imamović, “Opšte karakteristike,” 29. 101 Ibrahim Maglajlić represented the minority of Bosnian Muslims who were politically much closer to Belgrade than was Čaušević. In 1923, Maglajlić had led a faction of the Yugoslav Muslim Organization away from Mehmed Spaho. Maglajlić’s faction had formed the Jugoslavenska muslimanska narodna organizacija (Yugoslav Muslim National Organization, or JMNO). The JMNO subsequently foundered at the polls against the much more popular JMO, and Maglajlić retreated into retirement. Atif Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija u političkom životu Kraljevina Srba, Hrvata i Slovenaca, 3rd ed. (Sarajevo: Bosanski kulturni centar, 1999), 120–6. Filandra, Bošnjačka politika, 82–92. 102 This did not prevent the authorities from investigating links between the JMO and Čaušević. Cf. Police Administration in Sarajevo to KBUDB, 9 June 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov., 2084/1930. 103 This phenomenon of cultural destruction was particularly pronounced in the Vardar and Morava banovinas, that is, in areas referred to by Serbs as “Southern Serbia.” 104 The wakfs were originally lands “often very large in extent, were religious and charitable endowments either granted by the Sultan or bequeathed by the owners of mulk land,” that is, lands granted to individuals by the sultan. Jozo Tomasevich, Peasants, Politics, and Economic Change in Yugoslavia (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1955), 25. 105 Reis-ul-Ulema Ibrahim Maglajlić to Justice Minister Dimitrije Ljotić, 16 June 1931. AJ, f. 63-pov., kut. 10, fa. 11, 11-12-931. 106 Mearif refers to educational activities such as those of the medresas. 107 Wakf Administrative [Vakuf-Mearif] Directorate in Skoplje to the Justice Minister via Reis-ul-Ulema Ibrahim Maglajlić, 11 June 1931. AJ, f. 63-pov., kut. 10, fa. 11, 11-12-931. Cf. Mustafa Imamović, “Pravni položaj i organizacija Srpske pravoslavne crkve u Jugoslaviji 1918–1941. godine,” Godišnjak Pravnog fakulteta u Sarajevu 41 (1998): 183. 108 Reis-ul-Ulema Ibrahim Maglajlić to Acting Minister of Justice Dragutin S. Kojić, 8 November 1934, with response by latter dated 19 November 1934. AJ, f. 63 (pov.), kut. 17., fasc. 17, 17-160-34. 109 See, for example, the comments of the KBU of Littoral Banovina. Commenting on the role of a mekteb (school for elementary Islamic religious instruction) in Livno in Herzegovina, Ban Ivo Tartaglia wrote that “I need not mention how the mektebs hinder the process of making Muslims nationally conscious and the process of bringing them closer to the Orthodox and the Catholics.” To be sure, Tartaglia held equally negative

Notes to pages 160–1  317 opinions about the role of the Roman Catholic clergy in Herzegovina. Ban Ivo Tartaglia to KBU of Littoral Banovina, Department of Education, 22 November 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-22-52. 110 Imamović, Historija Bošnjaka, 508. 111 Lazić here is referring to the main Albanian irredentist organization in the area. Known as Kačaci (singular, Kačak), the members of this and other Albanian guerrilla movements carried out raids on Yugoslav military and administrative posts. They also engaged in a type of (occasionally politicized) highway robbery known as hajdukovanje, as did many groups in the southern Balkans. On the Kačaci, see Banac, The National Question, 291–306. On the cultural meaning of hajdukovanje, see Ivo Žanić, Prevarana povijest: Guslarska estrada, kult hajduka i rat u Hrvatskoj i Bosni i Hercegovini, 1990–1995. godine (Zagreb: Durieux, 1998). 112 Ban Živojin Lazić to Minister of Justice Milan Srškić, 18 March 1930. AJ, f. 63-pov., kut. 5, fa.6, 6-49-30. 113 For example, in the 1922–3 conflict between Mehmed Spaho and the breakaway dissidents around Ibrahim Maglajlić, Baljić had stood firmly on the side of Spaho. Moreover, prior to 1929, Baljić had if anything drifted closer to Zagreb than to Belgrade. Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska, 129–30, 402. 114 It remains unclear what prompted Baljić to shift in favour of the regime. However, he had on occasion warned his fellow Bosnian Muslims against the dangers of “tribalism,” and he feared that the Bosnian Muslim community would be torn asunder if its leaders opted for Serbdom or Croatdom. Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska, 299, 402. 115 Šerif Makarević to King Aleksandar, 6 August 1931. AJ, 74-54-75, 96. Imamović explains that marriage law was formally a state matter, but in reality the religious authorities were still in charge. Imamović, “Opšte karakteristike,” 154. 116 Vicar Mirko Roganović to Chief of the Gornjo-Poljski District (Gostivar), 1 September 1931. AJ, 74-54-75, 97. 117 Making it worse in the eyes of Roganović, Slavka Ðorđević was the daughter of a deceased Serb soldier. 118 Beys and agas were large Muslim landholders during the Ottoman Empire. 119 Arguably, the fanaticism in this case was to be found in Roganović’s behaviour. Along with an assembly of “the most respectable Orthodox citizens” of Gostivar, Roganović had supported a resolution against Slavka Ðorđević. The resolution, passed unanimously by the assembly, called for Ðorđević to be driven out of Gostivar for insulting the “national honor

318  Notes to pages 161–2 of all the Orthodox residents of Gostivar.” Transcript of resolution of 30 August 1931. AJ, 74-54-75, 94. 120 The word arnautluk carries with it a definite pejorative and anti-Albanian connotation. 121 Chief of the Gornjo-Poljski District (Gostivar) to Ministry of Justice, 2 September 1931. AJ, 74-54-75, 97. 122 Ministry of Justice to Royal Chancellery, 4 December 1931. AJ, 74-54-75, 98. 123 The letters of other Muslim Sokol members in the archives show that some of them shared Makarević’s dilemma. For example, the self-described “Serb Muslim” leader of a Sokol company in Kosovska Mitrovica lamented his situation. “To the Muslims I am a Serb, who has only held on to the Muslim name, to the Serbs à la the Serb from K.M. [the anonymous “Serb from Kosovska Mitrovica” who had denounced him], I am a Turk, to the Albanians I am ‘worse than a Montenegrin.’ Only I can know how I feel in this society in which I live, and which I equally love without regard [to this] and with the wish, that from it should be created one soul, and one firm and supportive Yugoslavia in war and in peace.” The plaintiff, Asim Salihamidžić, was also active in the Yugoslav Nationalist Youth movement (JUNAO) and was a member of Narodna odbrana, on the local board of the JNS, and enrolled in the Yugoslav Teachers’ Association. AJ, 66 (pov.)-44-83. 124 The anonymous (police) report on the meeting held by Salih Baljić is filed with Police Administration in Sarajevo to KBUDB, 24 November 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 3203/1930. In 1923, Baljić had openly accused the later Minister of Justice, Milan Srškić, of widening the gap between Serbs and Muslims, and Baljić regularly addressed the topic of crimes perpetrated against Muslims. Notably, in his attacks on the first decade of Yugoslavia, Baljić also did not shy away from drawing attention to the abuses that Muslims had suffered earlier at the hands of the authorities. Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska, 157, 221. 125 Police administration in Sarajevo to KBUDB, 24 November 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 3203/1930. 126 “Skupovi Muslimana u Mostaru i Kosovskoj Mitrovici,” Politika, 15 December 1930, 3. 127 “Dve godine rada,” Politika, 6–9 January 1931, 1. Note that the exact same article began by praising the progress made against the HSS by Karla Kovačević’s movement. 128 Police Administration in Sarajevo to KBUDB, 24 November 1930. ABH, KBUDB-pov. 3203/1930.

Notes to page 163  319 129 Months before Maglajlić took office as Reis-ul-Ulema, his detractors had begun to spread rumours that he had died. The police ordered a complete investigation and fined at least eight individuals for disseminating false news about the demise of Maglajlić. See Police Administration in Sarajevo to KBUDB, 26 June 1930. KBUDB-pov. 2318/30; Police Administration in Sarajevo to KBUDB, 28 June 1930, 2321/30. 130 Purivatra, Jugoslavenska muslimanska, 301. In one of the more fascinating postscripts in Yugoslav history, Salih Baljić would end his career as the honorary consul of the fascist Nezavisna Država Hrvatska (Independent State of Croatia, or NDH) in Ljubljana in the Second World War. After the war, the communist authorities arrested him, tried him as a war criminal, and condemned him to death. This was commuted to a long prison sentence. I am indebted to Zlatko Hasanbegović for this information. 131 On the visits, see, “Ministri na konferencijama u Skoplju, Mostaru i Splitu. Ministri u kontaktu sa narodom,” Politika, 6 October 1930, 1; “‘Partije su luksuz za naš narod i njegov kulturni i ekonomski stupanj’,” Politika, 7 October 1930, 1; “Veliki govor g. dr. Srškića o radu i namerama Vlade,” Politika, 14 October 1930, 1; “Ministri u Banjaluci, Somboru i Starom Bečeju,” Politika, 28 October 1930, 1; “Ministri u Novom Sadu i Sarajevu,” Politika, 29 October 1930, 1; “Ministri u Osijeku, Virovitici i Ogulinu,” Politika, 4 November 1930, 1; “Ministri u Srbiji i u Slovenačkoj,” Politika, 13 November 1930, 1; “Ministri u Kruševcu i Kraljevu,” Politika, 14 November 1930, 1; “Ministri u Čačku i Užicu,” Politika, 15 November 1930, 1; “Ministri u Gornjem Milanovcu i Kragujevcu,” Politika, 16 November 1930. 132 “Govor g. Šibenika,” Politika, 3 November 1930, 1; “Ministri u Belovaru i Gospiću,” Politika, 5 November 1930, 1; “Ministri na Sušaku,” Politika, 6 November 1930, 1. 133 “Govor g. dr. Drinkovića,” Politika, 5 November 1930, 1. 134 Henderson to FO, “Situation in Yugoslavia,” 29 October 1930. AJ, f. 371, FO 371 212 14442, C 8112/144/92, frame 52. 135 Minutes of Session XXXVIII (1930) of Ministerial Council, 11 December 1930. AJ, 138-1-1, 248–50. 136 Henderson to FO, “Situation in Yugoslavia,” 27 November 1930. AJ, f. 371, FO 371 212 14442, C 8787/144/92, frame 77. 137 “Zagreb je sa ogromnim oduševljenjem dočekao Nj. V. Kralja i Kraljicu,” Politika, 26 January 1931, 1. 138 In late 1930, the British minister, Nevile Henderson, had written that “people, and particularly the peasants, still pin their faith on His Majesty, who is regarded by them as the one sincerely disinterested man in

320  Notes to pages 164–5 Yugoslavia … They are ready to give him almost unlimited credit and to believe that such errors as are committed are due to the evil influence and guidance of his Ministers. He, together with the fear of Italy, is regarded as the link which binds together the component parts of this new Kingdom.” Henderson to FO, “Internal situation in Yugoslavia,” 27 November 1930. AJ, f. 371, FO 371 212 14442, C 8787/144/92, frame 76. 139 On Šufflay, see Josip Horvat, Hrvatski panoptikum (Zagreb: 1965), 171–228; on the murder, Bogdan Krizman, Ante Pavelić i Ustaše (Zagreb: Globus, 1986), 78. Cf. Ivo Banac, “Zarathustra in Red Croatia: Milan Šufflay and His Theory of Nationhood,” in National Character and National Ideology in Interwar Eastern Europe, ed. Ivo Banac and Katherine Verdery (New Haven: Yale Center for International and Area Studies, 1995). James Sadkovich implicates the unitarist group Mlada Jugoslavija (Young Yugoslavia) in Šufflay’s death. James Sadkovich, “Terrorism in Croatia, 1929-1934,” East European Quarterly 22, no. 1 (1988): 58. On Croat mnemonists, see Banac, The National Question, 260–70. 140 Banac, “Zarathustra,” 181. 141 Minutes of Session XXV (1930) of the Ministerial Council, 17 September 1930, AJ, 138-1-1, 220–1. 142 Minutes of Session XXV (1930) of the Ministerial Council, 17 September 1930, AJ, 138-1-1, 220–1. For instance, at this meeting, Korošec pressed for a solution that would allow the new party to emerge out of a compromise among previously existing parties, rather than as an entirely new creation unrelated to those parties. Cf. “Uvažena ostavka g. dr. Korošca,” Politika, 29 September 1930, 1. Moreover, Korošec, who like the other ministers had not forgotten his partisan origins, arguably felt threatened by the regime’s attempts to launch a nationwide political party. Todor Stojkov, Opozicija u vreme šestojanuarske diktature, 1929–1935 (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1969), 133f. 143 Tomasevich, Peasants, 668f. 144 See, for example, the report of the CPB correspondent in Vrbas Banovina from June 1931 on “rumors about changes of the regime.” A subsequent report from the same correspondent, dated 3 July, details further rumours that describe almost exactly the nature of the changes which would occur in September 1931. CPB correspondent at Banja Luka to CPB, Belgrade, 1 June 1931; CPB correspondent at Banja Luka to CPB, “Report on Various Combinations or Some Political Changes, Respectively, While Are Allegedly to Follow the 16th of This Month,” 3 June 1931. AJ, 38-2-5. 145 Stojkov, Opozicija, 86.

Notes to pages 165–8  321 146 François Grumel-Jacquignon, La Yougoslavie dans la stratégie française de l’Entre-deux-Guerres (1918–1935): Aux origines du mythe serbe en France (Bern: Peter Lang, 1999), 385. In a conversation with the British minister at Belgrade during the late summer of 1931, King Aleksandar explicitly mentioned that he would not go the way of King Alfonso XIII. Henderson to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 3 September 1931. AJ, f. 371, film 397, FO 371 225 15271, C 6764/304/92, frames 122ff. Cf. Stojkov, Opozicija, 112. 147 “Jedna značajna izjava Nj. V. Kralja,” Politika, 5 August 1931, 1. 148 M.P., “Deset godina vladavine Nj. V. Kralja,” Politika, 16 August 1931, 1. Cf. “‘Zagreb ne gleda u Vašem Veličanstvu svoga narodnog Kralja i Vladara, već i spasitelja naše nacije…[sic]’,” Politika, 17 August 1931, 4. Chapter 5 1 Surveillance, as used here, refers to the collection of information by government agents and agencies for the purpose of determining the political and ideological loyalty of citizens. Surveillance usually assumes covert forms but can on occasion take on transparent and open forms. 2 Historians have tended to focus on these elites: see Todor Stojkov, Opozicija u vreme šestojanuarske diktature, 1929–1935 (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1969); Nedim Šarac, Uspostavljanje šestojanuarskog režima: Sa posebnim osvrtom na Bosnu i Hercegovinu (Sarajevo: Svjetlost, 1975); and Sabrina P. Ramet, The Three Yugoslavias: State-Building and Legitimation, 1918–2005 (Washington: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2006), 79–113. 3 Peter Holquist, “‘Information Is the Alpha and Omega of Our Work’: Bolshevik Surveillance in its Pan-European Context,” Journal of Modern History 69 (1997): 417. 4 For an explicit call for the creation of “a new Yugoslav man,” see Kam. Milošević, “Jugoslovenstvo i osnovna škola,” Jugosloven, November 1931, 11. 5 On the nexus of Stalinist ideology, totalitarian modes of governance, and modernization, see Stephen Kotkin, Magnetic Mountain: Stalinism as a Civilization (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995); and David R. Shearer, Policing Stalin’s Socialism: Repression and Social Order in the Soviet Union, 1924–1953 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009). For a penetrating regional study of terror in the Soviet Alltag, see Hiroaki Kuromiya, Freedom and Terror in the Donbas: A Ukrainian–Russian Borderland, 1870s–1990s (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). Even in the most totalitarian of regimes (e.g., Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union),

322  Notes to pages 168–70













individuals succeed in carving out and maintaining spaces for resistance, however futile such resistance may be. On this phenomenon in the Soviet Union, see Sheila Fitzpatrick, ed., Stalinism: New Directions, Rewriting Histories (London: Routledge, 2000); Jochen Hellbeck, Revolution on My Mind: Writing A Diary under Stalin (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2006); Kotkin, Magnetic Mountain; and Lewis Siegelbaum and Andrei Sokolov, Stalinism as a Way of Life: A Narrative in Documents (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000). For Nazi Germany, see Ian Kershaw, The “Hitler Myth”: Image and Reality in the Third Reich (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987). 6 Irina Livezeanu, Cultural Politics in Greater Romania: Regionalism, Nation Building, and Ethnic Struggle, 1918–1930 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995). 7 Ivo Banac has called Pribićević a would-be “Yugoslav Mussolini.” On Pribićević’s role as Minister of Internal Affairs, see Ivo Banac, “The Communist Party of Yugoslavia during the Period of Legality,” in The Effects of World War I. The Class War after the Great War: The Rise of Communist Parties in East Central Europe, 1918–1921, ed. Ivo Banac (Brooklyn: East European Monographs, 1983), 152–3, 186–8, 217–9, 304. 8 Links between ORJUNA and Pribićević’s SDS were especially close. Branislav Gligorijević, “Organizacija jugoslovenskih nacionalista (Orjuna),” Istorija XX veka 5 (1963); Hrvoje Matković, Svetozar Pribićević i Samostalna demokratska stranka do šestojanuarske diktature (Zagreb: Sveučilište u Zagrebu/Institut za hrvatsku povijest, 1972), 129–35. 9 The First Yugoslav Communist Congress, held in April 1919, led to the establishment of the Ujedinjena socijalisticka radnička partija Jugoslavija [komunista] (United Socialist Workers’ Party of Yugoslavia – Communists, or SRPJ[k]). At the Second Yugoslav Communist Congress, held in June 1920, the party changed its name to the Communist Party of Yugoslavia. 10 The KPJ garnered much of its strongest support from Macedonia and Montenegro. 11 Banac, “The Communist Party of Yugoslavia,” 203. Latinka Perović, Od centralizma do federalizma (Zagreb: Globus, 1984). 12 Banac, “The Communist Party of Yugoslavia,” 210. 13 For the early development of the Communists in Yugoslavia, see Ivo Banac, The National Question in Yugoslavia: Origins, History, Politics (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984), 328–39; and Banac, “The Communist Party of Yugoslavia,” 188–230. 14 Aleksandar’s sister Jelena was married to Prince Ivan Konstantinovich Romanov. She was killed by the Bolsheviks in 1918.

Notes to pages 170–3  323 15 Ljubodrag Dimić, Kulturna politika Kraljevine Jugoslavije, 1918–1941 (Belgrade: Stubovi kulture, 1996-97), vol. III, 135–6. 16 Banac, “The Communist Party of Yugoslavia,” 199. For the text of the obznana, see AJ, f. 63 (zakonodavno odeljenje), fa. 48, a.j. 151. 17 “Zakon o zaštiti javne bezbednosti i poretka u državi,” Službene novine Kraljevine Srba, Hrvata i Slovenaca, god. III, br. 170 A., 3 August 1921. 18 Banac, “The Communist Party of Yugoslavia,” 204. 19 The law, like all legislation related to domestic security, originated in Pribićević’s Ministry of Internal Affairs. 20 The law also proscribed public drunkenness and other relatively minor disorderly acts. An order to form an expert commission to draft such a law had been issued by April 1921; see letter of Ministry of Justice, 19 April 1921, AJ, 63-48-153. Judging from the draft law of 14 June 1921, it appears that the law was originally intended more to combat hajduks (highway robbers) and anarchist activities than communists. 21 Olga Popović-Obradović, Parlamentarizam u Srbiji od 1903. do 1914. godine (Belgrade: Službeni list SRJ, 1998). 22 On the 1920 Croat peasant revolt, see Banac, The National Question, 248– 54; Mark Biondich, Stjepan Radić, the Croat Peasant Party, and the Politics of Mass Mobilization, 1904–1928 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000), 167. 23 Branislav Gligorijević, Parlament i političke stranke u Jugoslaviji, 1919–1929 (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju – Narodna knjiga, 1979), 79f. 24 On Tomo Jančiković, see Ljubo Boban, Dr Tomo Jančiković – HSS između zapadnih saveznika i jugoslavenskih komunista (Zagreb: Školska knjiga, 1996). 25 Tomo Jančiković, “Zakon o zaštiti države,” Nova Evropa 18, no. 7 (1928): 199. 26 Jančiković, “Zakon o zaštiti države,” 202. 27 Dragoljub Jovanović, quoted in Nadežda Jovanović, Život za slobodu bez straha (Belgrade: INIS, 2000), 138f. 28 “Zakon o zaštiti države treba ukinuti,” Riječ, 21 September 1928, 2. 29 Gligorijević, Parlament, 301. 30 According to the 1930 Law on the Gendarmerie, it was an auxiliary force of the Yugoslav army, but it was financed by the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Ivana Dobrivojević, Državna represija u doba diktature kralja Aleksandra, 1929–1935. (Belgrade: Institut za savremenu istoriju, 2006), 156–7. 31 Šarac, Uspostavljanje šesto-januarskog režima, 199. To be fair, this merely marked the regularization of the process in the 1920s, when political parties in power had purged supporters of opposition parties from the civil service.

324  Notes to pages 173–6 32 “Zakon o zaštiti javne bezbednosti i poretka u državi,” Službene novine, god. XI, br. 9-IV, 11 January 1929, 54–6. 33 As in the 1921 law, however, communism, anarchism, and terrorism were specifically mentioned in Article 2, which treated anti-state organizations. 34 The inclusion of this article seemed to be at least partly a moot point, in light of the dispersal of all political parties shortly after 6 January 1929. 35 “Zakon o Državnom sudu za zaštitu države,” Službene novine, god. XI, br. 9-IV, 11 January 1929, 66–7. 36 Mustafa Imamović, “Normativna politika šestojanuarske diktature,” Zbornik pravnog fakulteta sveučilišta u Rijeci 12 (1991): 62. 37 See “Zakon o zaštiti javne bezbednosti i poretka u državi,” Službeni list, god. III, br. 170 A., 3 August 1921, Article 19. 38 C. Howard-Smith, in Minutes to Kennard, “Law regarding the protection of the State,” 18 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 389, frame 153, FO 371 288 13706, C 555/97/92. 39 Slavoljub Cvetković et al., Omladinski pokret Jugoslavije, 1919–1969 (Belgrade: Mladost, 1969), 68. 40 Dobrivojević, Državna represija, 30. 41 Dobrivojević, Državna represija, 30–1. 42 For the 1925 law, see “Zakon o štampi,” Službene novine, god. VII, br. 179-XXXIX, 8 August 1925, 1–10. Milan Srškić, at the time the Minister for the Constitutive Skupština and for the Equalization of Laws, bore the main responsibility for drafting the law. 43 This can be determined on the basis of the large number of banned newspaper articles from the 1920s found in the archival holdings of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. See, for example, AJ, 14-25-64, 14-68-224 and 14-76-273. 44 “Zakon o izmenama i dopunama zakona o štampi,” Službene novine, god. VII, br. 9-IV, 11 January 1929, 56–7. 45 Perko Vojinović, Vrbaska banovina u političkom sistemu Kraljevine Jugoslavije (Banja Luka: Filozofski fakultet, Banja Luka, 1997), 63. 46 Veliki župan of the Zagreb region to Central Press Bureau, 12 July 1929. AJ, 38-86-210. 47 Given the (publicly accessible) contents of the 1929 Law on the Press, and the fact that everyone in the publishing industry and journalism knew about censorship, the rationale behind this secrecy seems hard to understand. The government apparently supported this conceit in the hope of preventing any public criticism of censorship. 48 On 10 January 1929, Minister of Justice Milan Srškić specifically forbade newspapers from publishing such blank spaces. Šarac, Uspostavljanje, 200.

Notes to pages 176–8  325 49 “Zakon o centralnom presbirou,” Službene novine, god. VII, br. 93, 20 April 1929. The law is also available in AJ, 38-1-1. 50 Obaveštajna can mean either “information” or “intelligence.” For example, intelligence services in Yugoslavia were referred to as obaveštajne službe. 51 “Organizacija štampe i propagande u Jugoslaviji,” n.d. AJ, 38-1-1. 52 “Organizacija štampe i propagande u Jugoslaviji,” n.d. AJ, 38-1-1. 53 CPB correspondent, Skopje to CPB, Belgrade, 27 May 1930. AJ, 38-10-40. 54 For two excellent examples of the typical activities of a CPB correspondent over the course of a year, see CPB correspondent at Cetinje (Zeta Banovina) to CPB, Belgrade, Annual Report for 1931, 12 January 1932. AJ, 38-3-14; CPB correspondent at Skopje (Vardar Banovina) to CPB, Belgrade, Annual Report for 1931, 15 January 1932. AJ, 38-10-40. 55 See M.S. Jovanović, CPB correspondent, Skopje, to CPB, Belgrade, 1 July 1933. AJ, 38-9-36. 56 The CPB correspondents occasionally also recommended that special pro-regime literature be distributed. In May 1931, for instance, the correspondent in Banja Luka asked the CPB to send “as many books as possible, which treat various questions of Yugoslav ideology.” He complained that there was not a single public library in the capital of Vrbas Banovina. In a typical and telling answer, the CPB responded that it had no funds to help establish libraries. However, if the citizens themselves founded a library, the CPB would do its best to send appropriate books. CPB correspondent in Banja Luka to CPB, “Pitanje biblioteke,” Belgrade, 11 May 1931; CPB, Belgrade, to CPB correspondent at Banja Luka, 14 May 1931. AJ, 38-2-7. 57 “Dopisnička služba,” December 1931. AJ, 38-1-2. 58 The correspondents did not begin operating immediately in April 1929. For instance, the correspondent at Skopje did not begin work until June 1930. This gives some indication of the initial inefficiency of the system. CPB correspondent at Skopje to CPB, Belgrade, Annual Report for 1931, 15 January 1932. AJ, 38-10-40. 59 There was one correspondent in each banovina, plus one each at Sušak and Osijek. In 1931, they submitted 2,293 reports as well as a “significantly greater” number of telephoned reports. “Almost two-thirds” of the reports were of a political nature. “Dopisnička služba,” December 1931. AJ, 38-1-2. 60 “Zadatak koji treba da ima privredna služba Centralnog presbiroa,” n.d. AJ, 38-1-1. 61 The CPB also worked closely with the official press wire agency, Avala. 62 “Organizacija štampe,” AJ, 38-1-1.

326  Notes to pages 178–81 63 This point of view was regularly seconded by the British Foreign Office. “Zadatak koji treba da ima privredna služba Centralnog presbiroa,” n.d. AJ, 38-1-1. 64 Data from Ðorđe Stanković and Ljubodrag Dimić, Istoriografija pod nadzorom: Prilozi istoriji istoriografije (Belgrade: 1996), vol. I, 196n3. 65 One of the most exhaustive listings of newspapers and journals – a twenty-six-page list covering the period 1932 to 1935 – can be found in AJ, 38-148-295. The Zagreb Novosti counted 976 publications (newspapers, journals, and magazines) in Yugoslavia in June 1932. Mimicking the literacy figures, the greatest concentration of the press was in Sava Banovina, and the lowest in Vrbas Banovina. “Koliko listova ima u Jugoslaviji,” Novosti, 24 June 1932. AJ, 38-244-392. A year later, the World’s Press News offered a more critical and sceptical appraisal of the press in Yugoslavia. It counted only “62 daily newspapers which appear regularly … only some 25 are of real importance” “Where Politics Rules the Press: Jugoslavia’s [sic] 62 Newspapers,” World’s Press News, 11 May 1933. AJ, 38-244-392. 66 The British diplomats in Belgrade estimated that “of the existing newspapers, the ‘Politika’, ‘Vreme’ and ‘Pravda’ are still the most important. Their circulation is roughly as follows: ‘Politika,’ 75,000; ‘Vreme,’ 60,000; ‘Pravda,’ 25,000 … ‘Politika’ is the most objective of the three; it does not definitely belong to any political group.” This vastly overestimated the objectivity of Politika, which always carefully toed the government line on all issues. Annual Report on Yugoslavia of British Ambassador at Belgrade, 3 January 1929. AJ, f. 371, film 390, FO 288 13708, C 99/99/92, frame 76. 67 Dobrivojević, Državna represija, 148–9. 68 Krleža was released after a few days’ detention, because the police had not found any conclusive evidence linking him to the Communist Party of Yugoslavia. Ivan Očak, Krleža-Partija (Miroslav Krleža u radničkom i komunističkom pokretu, 1917–1941) (Zagreb: Spektar, 1982), 178. 69 For the best works on this topic, see Šarac, Uspostavljanje; Ljubo Boban, Maček i politika HSS 1928–1941. Iz povijesti hrvatskog pitanja (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1974); Tomislav Išek, Hrvatska seljačka stranka u Bosni i Hercegovini, 1929–1941 (Sarajevo: Institut za istoriju u Sarajevu, 1991); Jovanović, Život; Stojkov, Opozicija. 70 District chief at Velika Gorica to Royal Banovina Administration of Sava Banovina–Section for State Protection (KBUSB-ODZ), 20 September 1932. HDA, f. 145, kut. 7, Str. Pov. 242/1932. 71 Vladan Jovanović, Vardarska banovina, 1929–1941 (Belgrade: Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 2011), 19.

Notes to pages 181–5  327 72 District chief at Velika Gorica to KBUSB-ODZ, 20 September 1932. HDA, f. 145, kut. 7, Str. Pov. 242/1932. 73 District chief at Velika Gorica to KBUSB-ODZ, 26 May 1932. HDA, f. 145, kut. 7, Str. Pov. 242/1932. 74 Turopoljac had a reputation for being, in the words of one state official, “far from Yugoslav ideology.” Directorate of city police in Slavonska Požega to KBUSB-ODZ, 3 July 1932. HDA, f. 180, kut. 6, pov. 997/32. 75 Police Administration in Zagreb to KBUSB-ODZ, 8 February 1932. HDA, f. 145, kut. 60, Pov. 3453/1932. 76 District Chief in Velika Gorica to KBUSB-ODZ, 26 May 1932. HDA, f. 145, kut. 7, Str. Pov. 242/1932. 77 See the note “ad acta” dated 6 October 1936 on MUP-ODZ to Ministry of Education, 27 November 1934. AJ, 66 (pov.)-15-38. 78 Toth was by no means the only one to attempt this kind of subterfuge against the state and its ideology. For a very similar case, see that of C´iril Maštrović. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-34. 79 District Chief in Velika Gorica to KBUSB-ODZ, 20 September 1932. HDA, f. 145, kut. 7, Str. Pov. 242/1932. 80 Police Chief of Osijek to KBUSB-ODZ, 7 September 1931. HDA, f. 144, kut. 152, 24690/31. 81 Prime Minister Petar Živković to KBUSB, 9 October 1930. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 35, inv. br. 2051. Cf. KBUSB circular to all regional inspectors, district chiefs, directors of city police offices, and the Zagreb police administration, 31 October 1930. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 35, inv. br. 2050. 82 Transcript of District Chief in Slunj to KBUSB-ODZ, 20 April 1930. AJ, f. 63-pov., kut. 5, fa. 6, 6-82-30. 83 See, for example, the dossier (exhaustingly) entitled “Izvještaji sreskih poglavara gradske policije i o održavanju političkih sastanaka po privatnim kućama što je nedozvoljeno i treba spriječiti i o svemu izvještavati,” from 1929, in HDA, grupa XXI-P, inv. broj. 1570. 84 Letter from the township of Andrijevci to the district of Slavonski Brod, 9 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 1. All documents pertaining to this case cited below can be found in this dossier. 85 Transcript of letter from the District Chief of Slavonski Brod to the District Chief of Slavonski Brod, 9 June 1933. Since the sender and recipient of this letter are identical, it appears to be a document of record. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 2. Unless otherwise noted, all transcripts are police transcripts. 86 The establishment of the JRSD by the Yugoslav government took place after the introduction of a uniparty “constitutional” system in September

328  Notes to pages 185–8











1931. The government claimed that only the JRSD properly represented the interests of the new “Yugoslav nation.” Chapter 6 examines this topic in detail. 87 Transcript of interrogation by gendarmerie of Petar Rusić, Andrijevci, 10 June 1933. From the interrogation record, it is unclear when the meeting in Sarajevo took place. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 2a. 88 Transcript of letter from the district chief of Slavonski Brod to the commander of the gendarmerie company at Slavonski Brod, 10 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 2b. 89 Transcript of interrogation by gendarmerie of Stjepan Baumstark, Andrijevci, 11 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 3. 90 Transcript of letter from district chief of Slavonski Brod to KBUSB-ODZ, 11 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 3a. 91 Transcript of letter from gendarmerie station in D. Andrijevci to the district chief of Slavonski Brod, 12 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 4. 92 Transcript of interrogation of Ilija Grgić by the gendarmerie, Slavonski Brod, 13 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 5-8. 93 This was later seconded by the merchant Ivan Benić, who thought that Rusić and the other local JRSD members had planned acts of violence against non-JRSD members. Benić also corroborated all of Grgić’s comments. Transcript of interrogation of Ivan Benić by the gendarmerie, Slavonski Brod, 13 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 9–10. The ploughman Bartol Bošnjaković testified that Pavle Benić had deceived people by getting them to sign up as JRSD members, when they in fact thought that they were signing a petition for a new village road. Bošnjaković and Ilija Grgić thereupon spearheaded an effort to lodge a protest with the banovina administration. Transcript of interrogation of Bartol Bošnjaković by the gendarmerie, Slavonski Brod, 13 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 14. 94 Transcript of interrogation of Ilija Grgić by the gendarmerie, Slavonski Brod, 13 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 5–8. 95 Transcript of interrogation of Ivan Benić by the gendarmerie, Slavonski Brod, 13 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 12. 96 Transcript of interrogation of Andrija Orešković by the gendarmerie, Slavonski Brod, 13 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 20. 97 Testimony (probable transcript) of district judge Dr Josip Rucner given to gendarmerie, Slavonski Brod, 13 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 25–26.

Notes to pages 188–92  329 98 Transcript of testimony of district health clerk Dr Eduard Hrdlička given to gendarmerie, Slavonski Brod, 13 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 27. 99 Transcript of testimony of village elder Lovro Zmaić given to gendarmerie, Perkovci, 18 June 1933, HDA grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476. See also the transcript of the group testimony of the JRSD members of Perkovci, 18 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 38. 100 Transcript of group declarations by citizens of Perkovci to authorities of Perkovci, 18 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 40–1. 101 Transcript of letter from district chief of Slavonski Brod to the commander of the gendarmerie company at Slavonski Brod, 19 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 42. Although it is not stated anywhere explicitly, it is possible that the parties to the dispute in Perkovci reached an agreement at least partly to avoid expensive forced expenditures on the gendarmerie. These villagers would have been familiar with the relevant provisions of the law. 102 Transcript of letter from district chief of Slavonski Brod to gendarmerie station at Andrijevci, 21 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 43. 103 This suspicion was articulated most clearly by Lovro Zmajić. Transcript of testimony of Lovro Zmajić given to the gendarmerie in Perkovci, 18 June 1933. HDA, grupa VI, kut. 10, inv. br. 476, 38. 104 Presidential Office of the Royal Prosecutorial Directorate to General Vojin Maksimović, 26 January 1929. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 25, inv. br. 1456. 105 Ministry of Army and Navy to the Minister of Justice Milorad Vujičić, 10 April 1928. AJ, 63-pov., kut. 4, fasc. 4. 106 The gendarmes were particularly exercised about the director of the school located 200 metres across the border in an Austrian village. Although the director, Josip Zupanc, had a Slovenian name, the gendarmes described him as “a renegade of ours from Maribor … who for our people of this region has no other expression than ‘Slovenian swine.’” Gendarmerie company of Maribor to commander of Drava divisional region, 21 May 1932. AJ, 66-2322-2190. 107 AJ, 66-2322-2190. 108 AJ, 66-2322-2190. 109 See handwritten order dated 21 March 1933, of Chief of Personnel Section, Department for Elementary Instruction, Ministry of Education on Minister of the Army and Navy General Dragomir Ž. Stojanović to Prime Minister Srškić (for eyes only), 9 September 1932. AJ, 66-116-373. 110 Report of Ministry of Education, 1935. AJ, 66-2322-2190.

330  Notes to pages 193–6 111 While the State Court for the Protection of the State did function and try numerous cases each year, the authorities usually resorted to this institution only when prosecuting former politicians, intellectuals, and communist cells. 112 “Govor predsednika vlade,” Politika, 7 August 1930, 2. 113 See, for example, the anonymous denunciation made to the Ministry of Education and Prime Minister Živković in May 1930 by “one who wants that the riffraff be completely excluded from state service and that thus also this [the state service] takes a correct and uncorrupted path.” AJ, 66 (pov.)-34-73. See also the case of the teacher Ljubomir Popović in AJ, 66 (pov.)-44-83. 114 For an eccentric sampling of the variety of such denunciations during Aleksandar’s dictatorship, see Dobrivojević, Državna represija, 145. 115 Dobrivojević, Državna represija, 119. 116 The term “consciously Yugoslav” was in fact used in some petitions. For example, in March 1934, a group of villagers from Gajić near Batina in the region of Baranja asked for a new teacher. They disliked their present teacher, a “magyarized Swabian [ethnic German],” who taught the children that they were Croats and not Yugoslavs. The citizens instead requested that the state forthwith dispatch “conscious Yugoslavs” to the area. Citizens’ petition to the Minister of Education Ilija Šumenković, March 1934. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-34. 117 Minister of Education, Department of Elementary Instruction, to KBU of Danube Banovina, Department of Education, 20 September 1930. AJ, 66 (pov).-13-33. 118 Interrogation record of Matija Tucakov, 8 October 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-33. 119 Interrogation record of Bena Trskić, administrator of elementary school in Bački Breg, 8 October 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-33. 120 School inspector Milutin Nikolić, Sombor, to KBU of Danube Banovina, 10 October 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-33. Tucakov encountered problems again in 1931, when the authorities in Bački Breg suspected him of “belittling the dynasty.” See AJ, 66 (pov.)-44-83. 121 Gendarmerie Station at Lipovljani, criminal arraignment of Gjuro Čaić, 29 October 1932. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-36. 122 Minutes of interrogation of Gjuro Čaić at the office of the district chief of Novska, 7 November 1932. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-36. The accompanying documents make it clear that the teacher Ivan Gjuroković was the confidant in question. 123 District Chief of Novska to Disciplinary Court of Sava Banovina, 18 July 1933. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-36.

Notes to pages 196–7  331 124 Čaić had allegedly sent villagers out to collect construction materials for the building of the local firefighters’ society, of which he was president. KBUSB-ODZ to KBUSB, Department of Education, 25 November 1933. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-36. Čaić had also raised the ire of officialdom by harshly criticizing the school inspector’s evaluation of his teaching and for allegedly cursing a fealty delegation and the royal banovina administration. See KBUSB, Department of Education, to Ministry of Education (unclassified), 15 December 1933; Minutes of interrogation of Adolf Jung, Novska, 18 December 1934. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-36. 125 Čaić’s conduct makes it possible to ascertain whether he was indeed guilty of any of the charges against him. Certainly, his later admission, in 1934, that he cursed the banovina administration makes it possible that his 1932 comment about his “Yugoslav” identity was disingenuous. Yet it is equally plausible that he lashed out at the banovina administration for relentlessly pursuing a minor investigation for so long. By 1935, the Ministry of Education had washed its hands of the matter and decided to let the banovina administration hand out a minor punishment. Minister of Education to KBUSB, Department of Education, 1 April 1935. AJ, 66 (pov.)-13-36. 126 Transcript of notary in the township of Cerna to the district chief at Vinkovci, 11 December 1930. AJ, 66 (pov.)-15-40. 127 See minutes of student interrogations, 10 January 1931, and penal order of the KBU of Drina Banovina, 14 March 1931. AJ, 66 (pov.)-15-40. Note also that these elementary school students were being asked to recall the conduct of a teacher at a rally that had taken place approximately one month before the interrogations. 128 Dobrivojević, Državna represija, 144–6. Dobrivojević notes that even those officials who realized the problems raised by the flood of anonymous and tendentious denunciations themselves faced denunciations by those who found these officials to be insufficiently vigilant. 129 District Chief of Vrbovsko to the Regional Inspector (eyes only) in Ogulin, 13 December 1932. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 53, inv. br. 3289. 130 District Chief of Vrbovsko to the Regional Inspector in Ogulin, 26 January 1933. HDA, grupa XXI-P, kut. 53, inv. br. 3289. Cf. AJ, 66 (pov.)-15-39, for a case in which a Serb teacher in Hrtkovci in Danube Banovina stood accused of “tribal intolerance” against Croats but was not disciplined. 131 Minister of Education, Department for Elementary Instruction, to KBU of Vardar Banovina, 23 March 1931. AJ, 66 (pov.)-15-38. The authorities demanded the “strictest measures” to ensure that this joke would not be further disseminated. Vidić claimed that he had heard the joke from a student in a literacy course he was teaching. In light of Vidić’s previously

332  Notes to pages 198–9 clean record, the ban of Vardar Banovina let him go with a reprimand. Order of Ban Živojin Lazić, 8 June 1931. AJ, 66 (pov.)-15-38. 132 In at least one instance, a banovina councillor raised the issue of denunciations and condemned the practice. This took place in January 1931, when Ivan Štrčin, the president of the township of Kaplja vas in Drava Banovina – who had himself been denounced – spoke out on the topic. “I believe that no offences to the state were intended by this proceeding, and that this was also not intended by the royal manifesto of 6 January. We Slovenes all love our ruler, we love our state and therefore we have to do away with that disgrace – [the practice of] denunciations.” Stenographic Records of Third Meeting, First Session, 22 January 1931. ARS, f. 77, fa. 1. 133 While professing their absolute loyalty to “the idea of Yugoslav unity,” the members of the Drina Banovina Section of the Jugoslovensko učiteljsko udruženje (Yugoslav Teachers’ Association, or JUU) demanded consistency in the handling of disciplinary cases and denunciations. They also asked that “all anonymous accusations be discarded as unworthy and not be taken into [consideration for disciplinary] proceedings.” From Paragraph 27 of the draft resolution (transcription) of the Drina Banovina Section of the JUU, Sarajevo, 5 July 1933. AJ, 66-2321-2188. A similar incident transpired at the 13th Regular Congress of the Jugoslovensko profesorsko društvo (Yugoslav Professorial Society), when a certain Professor Moskovljević opined that “there are too many gendarmes, police officers, and agents. The budget of the Administration of the city [of Belgrade] has 120 agents.” He then added, “and surely there are some of them among you here.” MUP’s report further noted that “a large number” of the delegates present had approved of the tone of Moskovljević’s speech, even though the president of the congress admonished him for raising “political” matters. MUP-ODZ to Cabinet of Ministry of Education, 25 July 1932. AJ, 66-116-373. 134 Jovanović, Vardarska banovina, 207. 135 Dobrivojević, Državna represija, 130. 136 At this time, ca 1933, the Ustaša movement counted, at the very most, a few hundred ragtag followers. Active members in the emigration numbered a few dozen. On the Ustaša in the 1930s, see Bogdan Krizman, Ante Pavelić i Ustaše (Zagreb: Globus, 1986). 137 For a description of the “conversion” of Jelka Pogorelec, and for suspicions that she had been a Yugoslav government agent prior to arriving in Hungary, see Krizman, Ante Pavelić, 102f., 260–1. Vladeta Milićević would later head the Yugoslav government investigation into the assassination

Notes to pages 199–202  333 of King Aleksandar. See Vladeta Milićević, A King Dies in Marseilles: The Crime and Its Background (Bad Godesberg: Hohwacht, 1959). 138 Tajne emigrantskih zločinaca: Ispovijest Jelke Pogorelec (Zagreb: Jugoslovenska štampa, 1933), 3. A copy of the entire pamphlet can be found in AJ, 14-27-72, 201ff. 139 Tajne emigrantskih zločinaca, 4. 140 Tajne emigrantskih zločinaca, 8. Emphasis in original. 141 The Department for State Security of the Ministry of Internal Affairs issued the distribution order. The largest single number of brochures, 2,093, went to Sava Banovina. HDA, f. 145, kut. 9, 11/34 (str. pov.). 142 Draft of KBUSB letter to district and local police and district chiefs. 20 November 1933. HDA, f. 145, kut. 9, 11/34 (str. pov.). 143 KBUSB-ODZ to MUP-ODZ, 1 February 1934. HDA, f. 145, kut. 9, 11/34 (str. pov.). 144 After the assassination of King Aleksandar, a French publisher issued Les secrets des organizations terroristes au service du révisionnisme,” also “written by” Pogorelec. It was essentially the 1933 pamphlet, translated and modified slightly for a foreign audience. The French edition was most likely produced through the good offices of the CPB, MUP, and the Yugoslav Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Les secrets des organisations terroristes au service du révisionnisme (Dévoilés par Melle Jelka Pogorelec) (Paris: Publications La Paix Internationales, 1934?). For the effect of the French-language pamphlet on Yugoslav–Hungarian relations, see Krizman, Ante Pavelić, 209. 145 Martin Mayer writes of the Ministry of Education, “it happened that dossiers were dormant for months or completely disappeared.” This was doubtlessly no less the case in other government ministries and agencies. Mayer, Elementarbildung in Jugoslawien (1918-1941). Ein Beitrag zur gesellschaftlichen Modernisierung?, Südosteuropäische Arbeiten (Munich: R. Oldenbourg, 1995), 70. 146 Here it bears remembering that as of 1932, fewer than half of all civil servants had an education that qualified them for their position in the bureaucracy. Mayer, Elementarbildung. 147 Dobrivojević, Državna represija, 29–30. 148 As quoted by William M. Johnston, The Austrian Mind: An Intellectual and Social History, 1848–1938 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972), 50. 149 It is possible to find documents in which district authorities criticize the gendarmerie for arresting people for “meaningless things” and for referring these matters to the state prosecutor without at first seeking orders from their immediate local superiors. Indeed, in some extreme cases,

334  Notes to pages 203–11 zealous gendarmes even sought to monitor the work of their nominal superiors. See, for example, District Chief of Vrbovski to Gendarmerie Station in Vrbovski, 13 December 1932. HDA, grupa XXI-p, kut. 53, inv. br. 3289. 150 As described in the previous chapter, this combined with the growing use of the rhetoric of blood and sacrifice in all areas of society. 151 AJ, f. 371, film 389, FO 288 13706, frame 208, C 905/97/92, Report of Acting Consul at Zagreb in Kennard to FO, “Attitude of the Croats and Slovenes towards the new régime in Yugoslavia,” 30 January 1929. Chapter 6 1 Minister of Internal Affairs Živojin Lazić to Minister of Justice Božidar Maksimović, 18 July 1934. AJ, f. 63 (pov.), kut. 18, fa. 18, 18-33-934. 2 “Duh novog Ustava,” Politika, 3 September 1931, 4. 3 The constitution contained 120 articles. Its omplete text was published in the official legal gazette on 3 September (br. 200), and again on 9 September 1931. “Ustav Kraljevine Jugoslavije,” Službene novine, god. XIII, br. 207 – LXVI, 9 September 1931, 1305–14. 4 “Ideja narodnog jedinstva u Ustavu,” Politika, 5 September 1931, 2. 5 The electoral law was promulgated by royal decree on 10 September 1931 and came into effect two days later. In its spirit if not in its letter, the new electoral system arguably represented a violation of Article 54 of the constitution, which guaranteed Yugoslav citizens the right to free elections. “Zakon o izboru narodnih poslanika za narodnu skupštinu,” Službene novine, god. XII, br. 218 – LXIX, 21 September 1931, 1341–51. 6 “Smisao novog izbornog zakona,” Politika, 15 September 1931, 1. 7 See the “Zakon o izboru senator,” Službene novine, god. XIII, br. 232 – LXXII, 6 October 1931. 8 Branko Petranović, Istorija Jugoslavije, 1918–1988, 2 vols. (Belgrade: Nolit, 1988), I: 200. 9 The regular reports of the British minister at Belgrade from the early autumn of 1931 speak frequently of a frustrated and even angry popular mood in Yugoslavia. See AJ, f. 371, film 397. 10 Todor Stojkov, Opozicija u vreme šestojanuarske diktature, 1929–1935 (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1969), 135. 11 “Proglas članova Kraljevske Vlade,” Politika, 27 September 1931, 1. 12 Ljubo Boban, Maček i politika HSS 1928–1941. Iz povijesti hrvatskog pitanja (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1974), vol. I, 59. 13 Stojkov, Opozicija, 124.

Notes to pages 211–15  335 14 Transcription of Maček’s leaflet in State Prosecutor at Zagreb to CPB, 2 November 1931. AJ, 38-86-210. 15 Chief of Journalistic Section of CPB Milorad Radovanović, directive to CPB correspondents, 9 September 1931. AJ, 38-1-1. Apparently, this proved insufficient. Six days later, the Deputy Chief of the CPB wrote a letter castigating the pre-election press coverage and the passivity of the CPB correspondents. “Only the sufficiently uninformed or foreign hirelings are able to write about our State today in the manner in which the majority of the press with whom you are accredited writes.” It is not clear whether this missive was sent to all CPB correspondents. Deputy Director of CPB to CPB correspondent(s) (at Sarajevo?), 15 September 1931. AJ, 38-1-1. 16 See Ðurđe Jelenić, “Magna karta Jugoslavije,” Politika, 6 November 1931, 1; “Diktatura ideje,” Politika, 7 November, 1931, 1. 17 “U celoj zemlji glasalo je preko 66 od sto birača,” Politika, 10 November 1931, 1. 18 “Opšti rezultat izbora,” Politika, 10 November 1931, 1. 19 Joseph Rothschild, East Central Europe between the Two World Wars (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1974), 242. 20 “Načelna diskusija o budžetu,” Politika, 2 March 1932, 1–3. 21 Stojkov, Opozicija, 188. 22 “Izjava Predsednika vlade,” Politika, 10 November 1931, 1. 23 “Pobeda,” Jugosloven, December 1931, 5. 24 British Consul at Zagreb Robert T. Smallbones to Henderson, 11 November 1931. AJ, f. 371, film 397, FO 371 225 15272, C 8533/304/92, frame 73. 25 Stojkov, Opozicija, 135. 26 “Program Jugoslovenske radikalno-seljačke demokratije,” Politika, 16 December 1931, 2. 27 Stojkov, Opozicija, 131, 159–64, 170; Henderson to Sargent, “Disturbance at Belgrade University,” 11 December 1931. AJ, f. 371, film 397, FO 371 225 15272, frame 74. 28 Stojkov, Opozicija, 136f. 29 Jozo Tomasevich, Peasants, Politics, and Economic Change in Yugoslavia (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1955), 382. 30 Tomasevich, Peasants, 410. 31 Tomasevich, Peasants, 413. 32 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 77. 33 “Proglas narodu Jugoslavije o osnivanju Jugoslovenske radikalno-seljačke demokratije,” Politika, 5 May 1932, 2. 34 On peasant unrest in the spring and summer of 1932, see Stojkov, Opozicija, 164–77.

336  Notes to pages 215–16 35 Stojkov, Opozicija, 138. Cf. Henderson to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 15 April 1932. AJ, f. 371, film 675, FO 371 225 15996, C 3327/433/92, frame 60. 36 “Interpelacija Dr Nikole Nikića i drugova na ministra unutrašnjih poslova o napadu na Dr. Mila Budaka, advokata i književnika u Zagrebu,” 8 June 1932. Stenografske beleške Narodne Skupštine Kraljevine Jugoslavije, God. 1, knj. 4, XLIX redovan sastanak, 63f. Grga Anđelinović filed a separate interpellation on the same issue. Mile Budak was a member of the right-wing Hrvatska stranka prava (Croat Party of [State] Right), the leader of which, Ante Pavelić, had emigrated and started the Ustaša movement. Budak had served eight months in prison in 1929–30 without being charged with any crime. The circumstances surrounding the assault harked back to the assassination of Milan Šufflay. In March 1933, Budak immigrated to Italy and joined the Ustaša movement, in which he came to play a leading role. Bogdan Krizman, Ante Pavelić i Ustaše (Zagreb: Globus, 1986), 93f. James Sadkovich argues that the attempted assassins hailed from the unitarist group Novi pokret (New Movement). James Sadkovich, “Terrorism in Croatia, 1929–1934,” East European Quarterly 22, no. 1 (1988): 60. 37 Lončarević later alleged that a number of people had been wounded and over 1,000 arrested in the ensuing unrest. Stenografske beleške, god. I, knj. 4, LII redovan sastanak, August 10, 1932, 99. 38 The representatives referred here to Article 4 of the Constitution of the Serbian Orthodox Church, which allowed that church to use the Serbian “tribal” flag as its “official flag.” Interpellation of Nikola Nikić, Ivan Lončarević, Lovro Knežević, Franjo Gruber, and Stjepan Valjavec, 4 August 1932, in Stenografske beleške, god. I, knj. 4, XLIX redovan sastanak, 6 August 1932, 32. 39 Interpellation of Nikola Nikić, Ivan Lončarević, Lovro Knežević, Franjo Gruber, and Stjepan Valjavec, 8 August 1932, in Stenografske beleške, god. I, knj. 4, L redovan sastanak, 8 August 1932, 53. 40 Minister of Internal Affairs Živojin Lazić to the ban of Vrbas Banovina, 3 September 1932. ARSr, KBUVrB, II, a.j. 5. 41 Draft letter of KBUSB-ODZ to MUP-ODZ, 16 August 1933; KBUSB-ODZ to Police Administration in Zagreb, all district chiefs, all city police directorates, and all commissars of border police, 8 August 1933. HDA, f. 145, kut. 140. 42 See, for example, the report of the District Chief of Vinkovci on the visit of Lovro Knežević to the village of Ivankovo. Transcription of District

Notes to pages 217–18  337















Chief of Vinkovci to KBUSB-ODZ, 7 September 1933. HDA, f. 180, kut. 9, 1570/33-pov. 43 Stojkov, Opozicija, 139–41. 44 On the differences between Srškić and Marinković, see Ljubo Boban, Svetozar Pribićević u opoziciji (1928–1936) (Zagreb: Sveučilište u Zagrebu/ Institut za hrvatsku povijest, 1973), 84. 45 Henderson to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 5 July 1932. The British also considered credible reports that Srškić had been behind assassination attempts on opposition politicians such as Mile Budak. AJ, f. 371, film 675, FO 371 225 15996, C 5966/433/92, frame 102. 46 Tomasevich, Peasants, 247. 47 Stojkov, Opozicija, 204. 48 Thus, when informed in the autumn of 1932 that Serb opposition leaders were carrying on talks with Maček and other representatives of the SDK, the king responded that that was “only his job.” Boban, Maček, vol. I, 86. 49 The pamphlet is reprinted in Dragoljub Jovanović, Sloboda od straha: Izabrane političke rasprave (Belgrade: Filip Višnjić, 1991), 276–84. In addition to this anonymous leaflet, Jovanović published articles critical of the government in his Zemljoradničke novine (Agrarian Newspaper). In May, the police arrested him; the State Court for the Protection of the State later sentenced him to serve one year in prison. Nadežda Jovanović, Život za slobodu bez straha (Belgrade: INIS, 2000), 173f. 50 See, for example, the verdict passed against Dragoljub Jovanović by the State Court for the Protection of the State in October 1932. The court found him guilty of making illegal, anti-state statements, including “that the Constitution of 3 September is a big lie.” Transcription of verdict of the State Court for the Protection of the State vs Dragoljub Jovanović et al., 1 October 1932. AJ, 66-137-413. 51 The rebellion was in fact a glorified attack on the local gendarmerie station. Krizman, Ante Pavelić, 94–7. 52 In July 1933, as the other conspirators were sentenced to long terms in prison, King Aleksandar paid a visit to the Lika area in order to project an image of normality. Todor Stojkov, “O takozvanom Ličkom ustanku 1932,” Časopis za suvremenu povijest 2, no. 2 (1970): 175, 179. 53 “Rezolucija Seljačko-demokratske koalicije (Zagrebačke punktacije),” 7 November 1932, in Ljubo Boban, Kontroverze iz povijesti Jugoslavije: Dokumentima i polemikom o temama iz novije povijesti Jugoslavije (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1987–90), vol. I, 34f.

338  Notes to pages 218–20 54 Boban provides a sketch of the different rationales each group had for support of the punktacije. Boban, Kontroverze, vol. II, 56–70. 55 Boban, Kontroverze, vol. II, 56. 56 See “Zagrebačka ‘punktacija,’” Politika, 25 November 1932, 1; K., “Vraćanja na ishodnu godinu,” Politika, 26 November 1932, 1. The SDK had not intended to distribute this document publicly. It first appeared in foreign newspapers – unfortunately for the SDK first in Italy. Only later did the government allow newspapers to write polemics against the document. Stojkov, Opozicija, 216. 57 K., “Vraćanja na ishodnu godinu,” Politika, 26 November 1932, 1. 58 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 89–91. 59 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 94. 60 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 96. 61 “Rezolucija Slovenske ljudske stranke (Ljubljanske punktacije),” 31 December 1932, in Boban, Kontroverze, vol. I, 46f. For detailed treatment, see Jure Gašparič, SLS pod kraljevo diktaturo (Ljubljana: Modrijan, 2007), 164–77. 62 For two of the first attacks on Korošec’s “separatism,” see “Proti separatistični izjavi Koroščeve skupine,” Jutro, 9 January 1933; and “Nihče se ne sme igrati z življenskim narodnimi interesi,” Jutro, 11 January 1933. Cf. “Dve ‘punktacije’ dr Korošca,” Politika, 11 January 1933, 1. 63 Stojkov, Opozicija, 223. 64 Janko Prunk, Slovenski narodni vzpon. Narodna politika (1768–1992) (Ljubljana: Državna založba Slovenije, 1992), 261–3. This period also witnessed a break in the Slovene liberal camp, as a significant faction of the Slovene liberals called for the preservation of a distinct Slovene identity. Janko Prunk, “Liberalni tabor med Ljubljano in Zagrebom” in Slovenska trideseta leta: simpozij 1995, ed. Peter Vodopivec and Joža Mahnič (Ljubljana: Slovenska matica v Ljubljani, 1997), 70. 65 “Rezolucija Jugoslavenske muslimanske organizacije (Sarajevske punktacije),” January 1933, in Boban, Kontroverze, vol. I, 49. The district chief of Visoko reported that all citizens, and especially Serbs, looked at the various punktacije with “bitterness.” As of early February, no one had begun talking about Spaho’s punktacije, which were apparently yet to be distributed. District Chief of Visoko to KBUDB, 2 February 1933. ABH, KBUDB-pov., 444/1933. See also Zlatko Hasanbegović, Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija 1929–1941 (Zagreb: Biblioteka Bosana, 2012), 87–8. 66 The small Republican Party in Serbia issued a resolution on 27 December 1932. The next day, the opposition in Vojvodina passed a resolution. The left wing of the Agrarian Party also promulgated a program in December

Notes to pages 220–2  339









1932. In January 1933, the leader of the Democrats, Ljubomir Davidović sent a programmatic letter to “friends.” Boban, Kontroverze, vol. I, 41–6, 50–4. 67 “Slovenski pretsednici opština protiv deklaracije g. dr. Korošca,” Politika, 10 January 1933. 68 See the indictment presented in the State Court for State Protection against Maček in April 1933. AJ, 37-19-138, 1–3. 69 The British thought that the “prosecution entirely failed to prove its case.” Although a façade of judicial and ethnic impartiality was constructed, “the court was carefully chosen by the Government and two of the Croats were old political enemies of Matchek.” Henderson to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 30 April 1933. AJ, f. 371, film 676, FO 371 213 16828, C 4130/24/92, frames 75f. 70 According to some sources, King Aleksandar wanted to pardon Maček, but his ministers almost unanimously opposed this. Boban, Maček, vol. I, 96f. See the joint resolution condemning the trial signed by the Radicals, Democrats, and Agrarians on 23 April 1933. AJ, 37-10-60-260. 71 Stojkov, Opozicija, 217f. 72 This HSS duumvirate lasted only until 14 July 1933, when Josip Predavec was killed in a personal dispute. 73 Svetozar Pribićević, Diktatura kralja Aleksandra, trans. Dražen Budiša and Božidar Petrač (Zagreb: Globus, 1990). 74 Stojkov, Opozicija, 249–59. 75 For a positive assessment of Bauer’s work by the state, see the June 1929 letter of the veliki župan of Zagreb Region to Prime Minister Živković. The veliki župan notes that “the patriotic work of Archbishop Dr Bauer is known throughout the entire country,” and recommended him for the exclusive Star of Karađorđević. Veliki župan of Zagreb Region to Prime Minister Živković, 26 June 1929. AJ, f. 63, versko odelenje, katolički odsek, fasc. 26. 76 Telegram of Minister of Justice Milan Srškić letter to Archbishop Ante Bauer, 11 February 1930. AJ, f. 63, versko odelenje, katolički odsek, fasc. 26. 77 Janko Prunk, “Anton Bonaventura Jeglič,” in Enciklopedija Slovenije, vol. 4 (Ljubljana: Mladinska knjiga, 1990). 78 Anton Jamnik, “Rožman – Duhovni vodja orlov,” in Edo Škulj, ed., Rožmanov simpozij v Rimu (Celje: Mohorjeva družba, 2009). 79 Mark Biondich, “Radical Catholicism and Fascism in Croatia, 1918–1945,” Totalitarian Movements and Political Religions 8, no. 2 (2007): 388. 80 The Križari movement expanded to an estimated 20,000 members by 1935. Stella Alexander, The Triple Myth: A Life of Archbishop Alojzije Stepinac,

340  Notes to pages 222–4









East European Monographs no. 226 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1987), 41; Nikola Žutić, Sokoli: Ideologija u fizičkoj kulturi Kraljevine Jugoslavije, 1929–1941 (Belgrade: Angrotrade, 1991), 83f. On the authorities’ suspicions about the Križari, see Commissar of Railroad and Border Police at Kotoriba to MUP, ODZ, Belgrade, 29 January 1930. AJ, f. 63-pov., kut. 5, fa. 6, 6-11-930. The same file also contains the statute of the Križari. On Bauer’s intervention and for a copy of the charter of the Križari, see AJ, f. 63 (versko odeljenje), fa. 109. Viktor Novak suggests the existence of direct and regular links between the Ustaša movement and the Križari. However, whatever connections existed between the two organizations were of a minor, if probably sympathetic, nature. Viktor Novak, Magnum crimen: Pola vijeka klerikalizma u Hrvatskoj (Belgrade: Nova knjiga, 1948), 294. 81 The Sokol movement had in 1932 come under the purview of a new ministry, the Ministry for the Physical Education of the People. 82 Josip Srebrnić, Tyršev duh (Goblje: Misijonska tiskarna, 1931). 83 Beginning in 1931, Srebrnić published two polemical tracts against the Sokol movement. On Srebrnić’s opposition to the Sokol movement, see Tomaž Pavlin, “Razvoj sokolstva v Sloveniji med leti 1929–1941,” PhD diss., University of Ljubljana, 2000, 154–8. 84 A police transcription of the pastoral letter can be found in Police Directorate of Ðakovo to Regional Inspectorate of Sava Banovina in Osijek, 9 January 1933. HDA, f. 180, kut. 8, 266/33. 85 As in n84. 86 District Chief of Vinkovci to KBUDB-ODZ, 13 January 1933. HDA, f. 180, kut. 8, 266/33. 87 On Bauer’s refusal, see District Chief of Slatina to KBUSB-ODZ, 20 August 1932. HDA, f. 180, kut. 6, 1244/32. On the dispute in Drava Banovina, see Stenographic Records of Third Meeting of Banovina Council, First Session, 22 January 1931. ARS, f. 77, fa. 1. 88 The most direct admission of the political nature of the Sokol movement can be found in M[iroslav]. Dragić, “Politika Sokolstva,” Politika, 13 November 1932, 4. Significantly, Dragić was also the author of Politika’s January 1933 broadside against the Roman Catholic Church. See Milorad Dragić, “Katolički episkopat o Sokolstvu Kraljevine Jugoslavije,” Politika, 16 January 1933, 1. Dragić claimed that one entire “archbishopric” refused to read the Yugoslav Episcopate’s “unpatriotic act.” He seems to have been referring here to Bishop Ucellini-Tice of the Kotor bishopric, about whom more later. It is clear that a small minority of clerics did refuse to read the pastoral letter and publicly criticized it.

Notes to pages 224–7  341 89 Milorad Dragić, “Katolički episkopat o Sokolstvu Kraljevine Jugoslavije,” Politika, 16 January 1933, 1. In early February, Politika carried a photo of Ante Bauer from 1911 showing him at a Croat Sokol jamboree. See “Nadbiskup g. dr. Bauer sa Sokolima,” Politika, 4 February 1933, 4. The same newspaper printed a “loyal” Catholic criticism of the pastoral letter. See “Interpelacija Ante Kovača i drugova o biskupskoj poslanici,” Hrvatska straža, 19 February 1933. Cf. “Odgovor Saveza Sokola na poslanicu katoličkog episkopata,” Politika, 17 January 1933, 1. Dragić also objected to the way in which the pastoral letter was written, noting that it did not at any point directly quote Tyrš. 90 See, for example, Sokol Society of Donji Miholjac to President of the Ministerial Council, 15 January 1933. HDA, f. 180, kut. 8, 266/33. 91 “Manifestacije državnog jedinstva u Ljubljani,” Politika, 21 January 1933, 2. 92 “Zbor Slovenaca u Beogradu,” Politika, 23 January 1933, 4. Cf. “Zbor Jugoslovenske akcije u Beogradu,” Politika, 30 January 1933, 4. 93 “Biskup Kotarski g. Učelini o biskupskoj poslanici,” Politika, 29 January 1933, 1. During the Second World War, General Nedić would lead the Serbian quisling state established under German occupation. 94 For a pro-Sokol statement by another member of the clergy, see “Don Frano Ivanišević o poslanici katoličkog episkopata,” Politika, 3 February 1933, 2. 95 British Minister Kirkpatrick (Holy See) to FO, 25 February 1933. AJ, f. 371, film 402, FO 371 213 16831, C 1951/1292/92, frame 6. 96 Žutić, Sokoli, 91. 97 “Izjava nadbiskupa g. dr. Bauera o poslanici protiv Sokola,” Politika, 27 January 1933, 3. 98 “Nova poruka nadbiskupa g. dr. Bauera,” Politika, 28 January 1933, 1. 99 In some cases, local officials professed scepticism that the population even understood the nature of the dispute between the Sokol movement and the church. See Police Directorate of City Police in Donji Miholjac to KBU-ODZ, 16 January 1933. 100 Žutić, Sokoli, 97. 101 Ban Ivo Perović to Minister of the Royal Court Milan Antić, 6 May 1933. AJ, 74-16-28. 102 A group of Sokols in Zagreb had filed a court complaint against the archbishop. See “Katolički episkopat riješen zbog poslanice o Sokolu Kraljevine Jugoslavije,” Hrvatska straža, 16 May 1933, 3. 103 Ban Ivo Perović to Minister of the Royal Court Milan Antić, 6 May 1933. AJ, 74-16-28.

342  Notes to pages 227–8 104 Senator Jovan Banjanin was the rare exception on the government side who saw that the Roman Catholic Church did not have a monopoly on “clericalism” or sponsorship of “tribalism” in Yugoslavia. In a March 1933 debate in the Senate, Banjanin stated that “I know for sure that the Orthodox episcopate has once again exhibited a tendency which is not in harmony with the attempt for Yugoslav unification. It is filled with the spirit of religious exclusivity.” Jovan Banjanin, Politika jugoslovenskog jedinstva protiv punktacija, razdora i mržnje: Govor Senatora Jov. Banjanina izrečen u Senatu Kraljevine Jugoslavije prilikom pretresa budžeta za 1933/34 god. 28. marta 1933. godine. (Belgrade: Narodna štamparija Mirko Drobac, 1933), 29. 105 Unfortunately, the extremely controversial role of Archbishop Alojzije Stepinac in the Second World War tends to project ahistorically backwards into any treatment of his role in the 1930s. On Stepinac, a mound of polemical tracts exists, and has been growing steadily. Most of this is not worth citing here. Given the lack of a more reliable alternative, see Alexander, The Triple Myth. 106 According to Stella Alexander, Stepinac informed King Aleksandar in an audience in July 1934 that “the Croats must not be improperly provoked and even forbidden to use the very name of Croat, something which I had myself experienced.” Alexander, The Triple Myth, 25–6. 107 On Catholic Action in Croatia, see Alexander, The Triple Myth, 39–45. 108 “Prilike u Hrvatskoj,” report of the Central Press Bureau of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, 25 August 1934. AJ 74-11-22. 109 See, for example, the pamphlet of Janko Šimrak, the Greek Catholic co-founder of Hrvatska straža. Dr K.B. [Janko Šimrak], “Sluge antikrsta,” Jeronimsko svijetlo 10, 25 March 1935, 3–29. 110 For an expression of the very conservative theological position taken by the Roman Catholic Church at this time, see the 1931 pastoral letter quoted in Army General of Fourth Army Region, Zagreb, to Minister of the Army and Navy, 17 November 1931. AJ, 63 (pov.)-12-12, 12-91-932. It should be noted that even the pro-Yugoslav Catholic newspaper Hrvatska straža attacked the radical Yugoslav organization Jugoslovenska akcija (Yugoslav Action), which was allegedly part of an anti-Catholic conspiracy of Rotary Club and Freemasonry. Jugoslovenska reč, the newspaper of Yugoslav Action, regularly responded in kind. “Masonerija, rotarijanstvo i jugoslavenska akcija,” Hrvatska straža, 17 January 1933, 2. Cf. “Na adresu ‘Hrvatske straže’,” 8 October 1932, 1. 111 Macrae at Zagreb to Henderson in Henderson to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 24 December 1933. AJ, f. 371, film 402, FO 371 213 18452, frame 31.

Notes to pages 229–32  343 112 See, for example, Commandant of the Fourth Military Region to Minister of the Army General Dragomir Ž. Stojanović, 2 November 1932. See also the ensuing correspondence with the Ministry of Education. 113 See the report on “narodno prosvećivanje” for the first half of the 1933–4 school year in District Chief of Korčula to KBU of Littoral Banovina, 10 March 1934. AJ, 66-269-512. 114 District of Senj, list of teachers and elementary schools with data on work on “narodno prosvećivanje” for the first half of the 1933–4 school year. AJ, 66-271-512. 115 Maček leaflet to the “Croat people,” Easter, 1933. HDA, f. 145, kut. 120, 1984/33. On SDS objections to the previous Easter leaflet, in 1932, see Stojkov, Opozicija, 210. 116 “Diskusija o deklaraciji Narodnog kluba senatora,” Politika, 22 February 1933, 2. 117 Banjanin also dismissed as fantastic the analogies that Mažuranić had drawn between Scandinavia and Yugoslavia. “There is no need for us to sail on distant seas with Vikings and Normans, with Swedes, Danes, and Norwegians, so that we find an interpretation for our own unity. Because all that may be interesting from the perspective of science, but it is in no way interesting for the solution of our national problem.” Banjanin, Politika jugoslovenskog jedinstva, 37–9. 118 Banjanin, Politika jugoslovenskog jedinstva, 47. 119 Perhaps as many as 200,000 people travelled to Niš. The resulting bill for the state railways was enormous – and this at a time of economic depression. Banjanin, Politika jugoslovenskog jedinstva, 60. 120 “Vođstvo JRSD o niškom zboru,” Politika, 30 April 1933. In a dazzling combination of volte-face and hypocritical nonchalance, Uzunović would claim at a meeting in Niš in August 1934 that the regime party would no longer hold large rallies because “we do not especially need to refute the calumnies and insinuations which our opponents from various sides have planted against us.” “Veliki govor pretsednika vlade g. Nikole Uzunovića na konferenciji JNS u Nišu,” Politika, 23 August 1934, 1. 121 Stojkov, Opozicija, 238f. 122 Gavrilo Dožić was elected patriarch of the Serbian Orthodox Church in February 1938. At the time of these conversations, he was the metropolitan of Montenegro. 123 Gavrilo Dožić, Memoari Patrijarha srpskog Gavrila (Belgrade: Sfairos, 1990), 79–81. 124 Henderson to FO, “New Yugoslav electoral law,” 20 February 1933. AJ, f. 371, film 676, FO 371 213 16828, frame 1. “Zakon o izmenenama i dopunama Zakona o izboru narodnih poslanika za Narodnu skupštinu

344  Notes to pages 232–4 od 10 septembra 1931 godine sa izmenama i dopunama od 26 septembra 1931 godine,” Službene novine, god. XV, br. 85-XXVI, 15 April 1933, 505–11. Roughly speaking, the revised election law eliminated half of the complex registration procedure for candidate registration delineated in the September 1931 election law. Joseph Rothschild aptly called this the “ephemeral carrot” accompanying the “more palpable stick” of arrests of opposition politicians. Rothschild, East Central Europe, 244. 125 Ban Ivo Perović of Sava Banovina to all district chiefs, 15 July 1933. HDA, f. 144, kut. 215, 4637/33. 126 See anonymous report, “Opštinski izbori u Dravskoj banovini, 15. oktobra 1933.” October [?], 1933. AJ, 37-8-45, 365–7. 127 See the two anonymous reports titled, respectively, “Stvarna istina o opštinskim izborima u Dravskoj banovina” and “Nezapamćeni teror upravnih organa, žandarmerije i narodnih poslanika u Dravskoj banovina,” October[?] 1933. AJ, 37-8-45, 328f. and 353f. 128 Anonymous report, “Opštinski izbori u Dravskoj banovini, 15. oktobra 1933,” October[?] 1933. AJ, 37-8-45, 366. 129 FO Minute to Henderson, 5 December 1933. AJ, film 676, FO 371 213 16828, C 10608/181/181/G, frame 137f. 130 Flyer containing stenographic notes of the speech of Ivan Lončarević at the parliamentary session of 17 October 1933. October[?] 1933. AJ, 37-8-45, 327. 131 For the investigation into the interpellation by Ivan Lončarević et al. see HDA, f. 144, kut. 215, 5010/33. Cf. investigation into the interpellation by representative Milan Metikoš, HDA, f. 144, kut. 218, 5913/33. 132 The official election results are reproduced in Henderson to FO “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 16 October 1933. AJ, film 676, FO 371 213 16828, C 9144/24/92, frames 131-137. Cf. FO Minute to Henderson, 5 December 1933. AJ, film 676, FO 371 213 16828, C 10608/181/181/G, frame 137f. 133 In an earlier section of the same report, Mr. Macrae had arrogantly noted that “the great agricultural population is as violently anti-Serb as their limited intelligence and habitual indolence will permit them to be.” British Consul Macrae at Zagreb to Henderson in Henderson to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 24 December 1933. AJ, f. 371, film 402, FO 371 213 18452, frame 33. 134 Branislav Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u evropskoj politici (Beograd: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002), 139–41. 135 Henderson to FO, 18 December 1933. AJ, film 676, FO 371 213 16828, C11308/24/92, frame 162.

Notes to pages 234–6  345 136 In March 1934, the State Court for the Protection of the State sentenced Oreb and Begović to death. They were executed shortly thereafter. Krizman, Ante Pavelić, 130. 137 “Zagreb je sa neizmernim oduševljenjem dočekao juče po podne Nj. V. Kralja i Kraljicu,” Politika, 17 December 1933, 1. 138 The British Counsel at Zagreb observed that once again all houses had to display flags, and many people were turned out. Report of British Counsel at Zagreb, Mr. Macrae, in Henderson to FO, “Visit of King and Queen of Yugoslavia to Zagreb,” 29 January 1934. AJ, f. 371, film 404, FO 371 213 18456, frames 38f. 139 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 104–5. 140 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 111. 141 Henderson to FO, “Resignation of the Yugoslav Government,” 24 January 1934. AJ, f. 371, film 403, FO 371 213 18452, R 467/30/92, frame 75. 142 The king had reportedly first thought of returning the sickly Vojislav Marinković to office, and had then considered Kosta Kumanudi, the president of the Skupština. Henderson to FO, “Yugoslav political situation,” 30 January 1934. AJ, f. 371, film 403, FO 371 213 18452, R 906/30/92, frame 92. 143 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 112. 144 “U današnjim prilikama nije jeres biti za javno glasanje,” Politika, 7 March 1934, 2. 145 See, for example, Uzunović’s comments in “Pretsednik vlade g. Uzunović o Jugoslovenstvu,” Politika, 22 March 1934, 1–2. Minister Henderson had reported at the end of December 1933 that King Aleksandar’s visit to Zagreb had persuaded him of the merits of decentralization. The analysts in the Foreign Office, by this time immune to such optimism, registered their resounding doubt. See Henderson to FO (and minutes on same), “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 28 December 1933. AJ, f. 371, film 403, FO 371 213 18452, R 47/30/92, frame 41. 146 The reshuffle seems to have been motivated by an attempt to shed some of the figures most objectionable to the opposition, thus smoothing the path for limited cooperation. Henderson to FO, “Political situation in Yugoslavia,” 7 May 1934. AJ, f. 371, film 403, FO 371 213 18452, frame 127. 147 Ivan Šubašić had fought as a volunteer with the Serbian Army during the First World War. Owing to his wartime experience, he enjoyed the confidence of King Aleksandar. Almost as soon as Maček had been sentenced to prison, the king had approached Šubašić and asked him to act as an intermediary. Boban, Maček, vol. I, 98.

346  Notes to pages 236–7 148 Henderson to FO, “Situation in Yugoslavia,” 6 May 1934. AJ, f. 371, film 403, FO 371 213 18452, R 2935/30/92, frame 136. 149 Stojkov, Opozicija, 272. 150 Boban, Maček, vol. I, 119–20. 151 Dožić, Memoari, 81. Dožić’s account corroborates that of Ivan Meštrović. Ivan Meštrović, Uspomene na politićke ljude i događaje (Zagreb: Nakladni zavod Matice Hrvatske, 1961; reprint, 1993), 233–6. 152 The French historian François Grumel-Jacquignon notes disapprovingly that, notwithstanding the Franco-Yugoslav alliance, King Aleksandar had not obtained an official invitation to visit France. Rather, he had travelled incognito to Paris no less than eight times. François Grumel-Jacquignon, La Yougoslavie dans la stratégie française de l’Entre-deux-Guerres (1918–1935): Aux origines du mythe serbe en France (Bern: Peter Lang, 1999), 467. 153 Grumel-Jacquignon, La Yougoslavie, 468–70. 154 Conspiracy theories veritably flourish around assassinations of major political leaders. In this respect, King Aleksandar’s death in Marseilles is no exception. Over the years, various historians and publicists have asserted that the Soviet Union, Nazi Germany, Freemasons, and so on were involved in the plot to kill Aleksandar. Consideration of such allegations is of little use to the present work. Readers wishing to sample some of these conspiracies might peruse Vladimir Konstantinovich Volkov, Operatsiia “tevtonskii mech” (Moscow: Izdatel’stvo “mysl’,” 1966); and Zoran D. Nenezić, Masoni u Jugoslaviji (1764–1980): Pregled istorije slobodnog zidarstva u Jugoslaviji. Prilozi i građa, 3rd ed. (Belgrade: Zodne, 1988), 413–21. 155 This apocrypha apparently originated with Foreign Minister Bogoljub Jevtić, who was riding in the car behind Aleksandar, and who dashed towards the king’s car as soon as the shooting had ended. Given the nature of his wounds, the king had in all likelihood expired before Jevtić reached the car. Milan Stojadinović, Ni rat ni pakt: Jugoslavija između dva rata (Rijeka: Otokar Keršovani, 1963), 282. See Royal Proclamation of 10 October 1934, quoted in Minister of the Army and Navy, General Milan Ž. Milovanović to First Adjutant of the Royal Court, 10 October 1934. AJ, 74-438-643, 63. Politika also printed these words on its front page on 10 October. Henderson wrote that “the words ‘Preserve Yugoslavia,’ which have been announced here as being his dying utterance, may be apocryphal, but I have no doubt whatever that he would have said them had he been able to.” Rather more problematically, he added a few weeks later that “it has been, not inaptly, suggested that they should form the Yugoslav equivalent of ‘Heil Hitler!’” See Henderson to FO, “Situation in Yugoslavia,” 13 October

Notes to pages 237–40  347 1934. AJ, f. 371, film 403, FO 371 213 18452, R 5743/30/92, frame 151b; Henderson to FO, “Situation in Yugoslavia,” 1 November 1934. AJ, f. 371, film 403, FO 371 213 18452, R 6068/30/92, frame 178. 156 Boban, Kontroverze, vol. I, 131, vol. II, 89. 157 Henderson to Sargent (FO), 22 October 1932. AJ, f. 371, film 675, FO 371 225 15996, frame 142, C 1955/433/92. 158 Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u evropskoj politici, 216. Epilogue and Conclusion 1 Ljubo Boban, Maček i politika HSS, 1928–1941. Iz povijesti hrvatskog pitanja (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1974), vol. I, 105. 2 Stojkov writes that Živković and Pavle had had to threaten Uzunović with the use of military force before the latter would accept the king’s testament. Todor Stojkov, Opozicija u vreme šestojanuarske diktature, 1929–1935 (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1969), 277. 3 Politika estimated that 80,000 people passed by the royal casket during the hours it spent in Zagreb. “Na način koji uopšte nije zapamćen, narod je juče u Zagrebu pokazao svoju žalost za Kraljem Aleksandrom,” Politika, 16 October 1934, 3. 4 Stella Alexander, The Triple Myth: A Life of Archbishop Alojzije Stepinac, East European Monographs, no. 226 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1987), 41. 5 Perhaps one of the most exemplary is the article of the unitarist ideologue Niko Bartulović, “Od Kneza Arsena do najmlađeg mornara i najmanjeg đaka, svi su plakali na splitskoj obali,” Politika, 15 October 1934, 2. 6 The condolences from organizations, societies, and associations are located in AJ, 74-23-40. See also the traumatic, grieving report written by the CPB correspondent for Vrbas Banovina. Correspondent of CPB, Banja Luka, to CPB, 4 October [sic] 1934. AJ, 38-2-5. 7 See “Izjave saučešća g. dr. Antona Korošeca,” Politika, 13 October 1934. 8 Report of British Consulate at Zagreb in Henderson to FO, “Situation in Yugoslavia,” 18 October 1934. AJ, f. 371, film 403, FO 371 213 18452, R 5744/30/92, frame 163. 9 District Chief of Trnavsko (Čačak) to Director of Secondary School at Čačak, 15 October 1934. ABH, KBUDB-pov., 3601/1934. 10 Record of interrogation of Danica Popović at the Secondary School at Čačak, 16 October 1934. ABH, KBUDB-pov., 3601/1934. 11 Director of Secondary School at Čačak Drag. Marković, 16 October 1934. ABH, KBUDB-pov., 3601/1934.

348  Notes to pages 240–2 12 The ministry granted the request, of course. Yugoslav Teachers’ Association to Ministry of Education, Division for Elementary Instruction, 17 November 1934. AJ, 66-2053-2041. 13 “Svog velikog sina, voždovog praunuka dočekala je Šumadija na kolenima,” Politika, 19 October 1934, 13. 14 It should be noted that work on the memorandum began in September 1934. Ljubo Boban, Kontroverze iz povijesti Jugoslavije: Dokumentima i polemikom o temama iz novije povijesti Jugoslavije (Zagreb: Stvarnost, 1987– 1990), vol. II, 90. The full text of the memorandum written to the regents is located in AJ, 37-10-58, 1–4. 15 Other prominent signatories included Archbishop Ante Bauer, his deputy and successor Alojzije Stepinac, Milan C´určin, the editor of the Zagreb journal Nova Evropa (New Europe), former ban Ivo Tartaglia, SDS politician Hinko Krizman, and Senator Želimir Mažuranić. The Croat nationalist intellectual and contemporary Josip Horvat describes the heterogeneous group of signatories as “predominantly collaborators and fellow travelers of the dictatorship, casual representatives of corporations and societies and, it seems, only two genuinely ‘uncompromised men,’ consistent opponents of the dictatorship: Dr. Ivo Politeo and Dr. Milan C´určin.” Josip Horvat, Hrvatski panoptikum (Zagreb: 1965), 164. 16 The full text of the Zagreb Memorandum was finally published in 1935 in Nova Evropa. The circumstances and mishaps surrounding the Zagreb Memorandum are virtually analogous to those surrounding the Zagrebačke punktacije. 17 Indeed, the memorandum quoted Louis XIV. “The truth is always well received when it is brought to me with respect and without passion.” Boban, Kontroverze, vol. II, 95. 18 In December, a group of intellectuals in Belgrade signed a similar but more weakly formulated memorandum. Boban, Kontroverze, vol. II, 113–14. The memorandum can be found in AJ, 37-10-58, 6. 19 Boban, Kontroverze, vol. 2, 116–19. Politika did, however, let some of the signatories explain their stance in their own words. See Želimir Mažuranić, Ivo Politeo, and Ivo Tartalja, “Potpisnici zagrebačkog memoranduma o sadržini i cilju svoje peticije,” Politika, 15 December 1934, 1. 20 Stojkov, Opozicija, 289. 21 See, for example, Želimir Mažuranić, Ivo Politeo, and Ivo Tartalja, “Potpisnici zagrebačkog memoranduma o sadržini i cilju svoje peticije,” Politika, 15 December 1934, 1. 22 Boban, Kontroverze, vol. II, 94. 23 “Ministar unutrašnjih poslova g. Velimir Popović govorio je sinoć preko radia o jugoslovenskom nacionalnom jedinstvu,” Politika, 10 March 1935, 2.

Notes to pages 243–6  349 24 Viktor Novak, “Na praznik Jugoslovenskog ujedinjenja,” Politika, 1 December 1934, 1. 25 Milorad Dragić, “Naš narod i država,” Politika, 1 January 1935, 1. Cf. Niko Bartulović, “Kralj Jugosloven,” Jadranska straža, br. 11, 1934, 458–465. This entire issue of Jadranska straža is filled with poetry and articles dedicated to “the memory of H.M. the Noble King Aleksandar I the Unifier.” 26 In September 1935, Jugoslovenska straža reported that there were 360,000 Chetniks in 550 branches spread throughout the country. According to the newspaper, these men fought against “various destructive, a-national, and separatist elements … We are those who will enter into battle with all internal, destructive elements and with foreign, enemy pretensions.” Četnik-Omladinac, “Mi smo ti!…,” Jugoslovenska straža, 15 September 1935. Emphasis in original. 27 Nusret Šehić, Četništvo u Bosni i Hercegovini (1918–1941): Politička uloga i oblici djelatnosti četničkih udruženja (Sarajevo: Akademija nauka i umjetnosti Bosne i Hercegovine, 1971). 28 “Zar ćemo po svima našim školama slaviti sve naše zaslužne ljude, a izostaviti Svetog Savu?,” Politika, 9 February 1935, 6. 29 Note in particular the use of the rhetoric of blood and sacrifice in “Izborni proglas vlade g. Bogoljuba Jevtića,” Politika, 27 February 1935, 1. 30 Jevtić ran his own list, not a JNS list. The JNS did not put up its own list, but rather let its individual members choose whether they wanted to join other lists. “Glavni odbor J.N.S. odlučio je da stranka ne izlazi na izbore,” Politika, 16 February 1935, 1. 31 Maksimović led a list of disgruntled JNS members. Ljotić was the leader of the proto-fascist, anti-Semitic, and unitarist Jugoslovenski narodni pokret Zbor (Yugoslav National Movement “Assembly”). See Mladen Stefanović, Zbor Dimitrija Ljotića (Belgrade: 1984). 32 This occurred on 19 and 20 February 1935. The gendarmerie tried to disperse a group of HSS supporters in the village of Sibinje. When the gendarmes opened fire on the crowd, several individuals were killed. Enraged peasants reacted by taking a government inspector hostage in nearby Slavonski Brod. When the gendarmerie and the military intervened, more peasants were killed in the ensuing gunfight. Vladko Maček, In the Struggle for Freedom, trans. Elizabeth and Stjepan Gazi (University Park: Pennsylvania University State Press, 1957), 161; Stojkov, Opozicija, 292. 33 Maček, In the Struggle for Freedom, 162. 34 “Ministri g.g. Janković, Hasanbegović i C´irić govorili su na zboru u Banjoj Luci,” Politika, 15 April 1935, 1. 35 This phrase was used by Minister of Internal Affairs Velimir Popović at an election rally in Sarajevo on 14 April 1935. “Na zboru u Sarajevu

350  Notes to pages 246–50















govorili su ministri g.g. V. Popović i M. Kožulj,” Politika, 15 April 1935, 3. 36 Milan Stojadinović, Ni rat ni pakt: Jugoslavija između dva rata (Rijeka: Otokar Keršovani, 1963), 314. Readers will recall that King Aleksandar was buried at Oplenac and that Janka Puszta served as an Ustaša terrorist training camp. 37 AJ, 37-10-60, 522. 38 AJ, 37-10-60, 523. 39 In evaluating this quote, keep in mind that Vukovar was an area with a heterogeneous population of Serbs, Croats, and national minorities. Both Dušan Čirić and Žarko Tomašević were Serbs. Record of electoral rally at Gaboš, 23 March 1935, filed at Gaboš township by Dušan Čirić, Dušan R. Bošnjak, Branko Polić, Lazar Stanisavljević, and Blagoje Stanisavljević, 7 April 1935. AJ, 37-4-24, 101. 40 To cite but one egregious example, the ban of Zeta Banovina ordered all government employees not only to vote for the government list, but also to help this list “actively.” Reports were to be submitted on anyone who violated this order. For good measure, the ban advised that no “sentimentality” should be given to offenders, “because general state and national interests, which every official and pensioner is primarily obligated to defend and help, are at stake.” District Chief of Podgorica, April [?] 1935. Emphasis in original. AJ, 37-4-24, 99. 41 AJ, 37-4-24, 180. 42 Joseph Rothschild, East Central Europe between the Two World Wars (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1974), 249. 43 Archbishop Bauer was especially exercised by reports of torture and killings by the gendarmerie, the details of which he relayed in an audience with Prince-Regent Pavle. Archbishop Ante Bauer to PrinceRegent Pavle, document personally presented on 25 May 1935. AJ, 37-22-193, 1-7. 44 See “The Building of Skadar” in Ivo Banac, The National Question in Yugoslavia: Origins, History, Politics (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1984), 406–16. 45 Nedim Šarac, “Promjena naziva i podjela na banovine jugoslovenske monarhije 1929. godine,” in Teme naše novije istorije (Istoriografski prilozi), ed. Nedim Šarac (Sarajevo: 1981), 138. 46 “Yugoslavia. Annual Report, 1933.” AJ, f. 371, film 404, FO 371 213 18454, R 488/488/92, frame 213. 47 Olivera Milosavljević has provided the best documentation of this trend. Milosavljević, U tradiciji nacionalizma ili stereotipi srpskih intelektualaca XX

Notes to pages 250–1  351









veka o “nama” i “drugima” (Belgrade: Helsinki Committee for Human Rights in Serbia, 2002). 48 To mention but two blatant examples, the ultra-nationalist Serbian magazine Novo videlo [New Light] in 2001 printed a paraphrased version of the Chetnik proclamation (without attribution) in Jugoslovenska straža on 15 September 1935. See n34. Novo videlo, br. 8 (March/April), 2001. And on the former “Marx and Engels Square” in Belgrade, now renamed “Nikola Pašić Square,” a major bookstore – located next door to several major historical institutes – does a brisk business selling the tracts of interwar Serb nationalists. The same bookstore, under the same management, used to purvey Marxist texts and socialist works of history. 49 For example, in Serbian bookstores, readers in the 1990s could browse shelves buckling with books by Dimitrije Ljotić, Jovan Dučić, and Milan Nedić. Also popular were books by the Serbian Orthodox theologians Nikolaj Velimirović and Justin Popović, who in the interwar period articulated a purer and more austere version of Orthodoxy and messianic nationalism, known as Svetosavlje. Similarly, Croat readers had the opportunity to purchase new editions of works written by Croat nationalists of the interwar period. On Velimirović and Popović, see Thomas Bremer, Ekklesiale Struktur und Ekklesiologie in der Serbischen Orthodoxen Kirche im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Würzburg: Augustinus-Verlag, 1992), 107–252. On Svetosavlje, see Klaus Buchenau, “Svetosavlje und Pravoslavlje: Nationales und Universales in der Serbischen Orthodoxie,” in Nationalisierung der Religion und Sakralisierung der Nation in Ostmittel-, Südost- und Osteuropa im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert, ed. Martin Schulze-Wessel (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2006), 203–32. 50 One could also mention the return of the Karađorđević family to the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in 2000–1. Only a minority of voices called for Yugoslavia to return to monarchy. But it is indicative that many of those who are most actively engaged in the movement for a monarchical renaissance are precisely the ones who least understand the underlying mistakes of the interwar monarchy. 51 Nor, as noted in previous chapters, were “sufficient” financial resources brought to bear in the Yugoslav unitarist cultural program. Ljubodrag Dimić correctly highlights this deficiency of the dictatorship’s cultural politics. However, his tacit assumption – that the dictatorship’s cultural program might have succeeded if “sufficient” economic resources had been forthcoming – downplays the political and ideological reasons for the program’s failure. Ljubodrag Dimić, Kulturna politika Kraljevine Jugoslavije, 1918–1941 (Belgrade: Stubovi kulture, 1996–7), vol. I, 109.

352  Notes to page 251 52 See the indicative parliamentary speech on the correction of the anational versus the national element, quoted in Vladan Jovanović, Vardarska banovina, 1929–1941 (Belgrade: Institut za noviju istoriju Srbije, 2011), 88. 53 One of the milder articulations of this thesis is that of Branislav Gligorijević: “The greatest mistake of King Aleksandar was that he severed his moral exchange [saobraćaj] with the nation by introducing his personal regime … Although he knew that the ministers whom he nominated did not represent anyone among the people, he maintained them in power. Moreover, he sometimes worked under pressure from them, because he had no other choice … He thought that his personal regime would strengthen the Serb entity in the state, but the result was the disintegration of Serb political and party life. And everything went in an undesirable direction: while it strengthened the national movement among Croats … the Serbs became the prisoners of Yugoslavia, in which their national idea, drowned in Yugoslavism, became ever weaker.” Gligorijević, Kralj Aleksandar Karađorđević u evropskoj politici (Beograd: Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, 2002), 216. Not surprisingly, Serb nationalist ideologues in the 1980s and 1990s also labelled Tito’s Yugoslavia the tamnica srpskog naroda (“prison of the Serb nation”). See the discussion on the collapse of Yugoslavia on Radio Free Europe by Latinka Perović, Ivo Banac, Dubravko Lovrenović and Omer Karabeg, http:// www.danas.org/content/article/1045353.html, accessed on 3 March 2011.

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354 Bibliography Arhiv Republike Srpske (ARSr)1 [Archive of Republika Srpska], Banja Luka Kraljevska banska uprava Vrbaske banovine, Upravno odjeljenje [Royal Banovina Administration of Vrbas Banovina, Administrative Department] Arhiv Srpske akademije nauka i umetnosti (A SANU) [Archive of the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts], Belgrade Fond 14837, Ostavština Milana Antića [Papers of Milan Antić] Državni arhiv u Dubrovniku (DAD) [State Archive in Dubrovnik] Okružni inspektorat, Dubrovnik [Area Inspectorate, Dubrovnik] Hrvatski državni Arhiv (HDA) [Croatian State Archive], Zagreb Analytical inventories: Group VI – Građanske stranke [Bourgeois Parties] Group XXI-P – Politička situacija [Political Situation] Fond 144 – Savska Banovina, Upravno odjeljenje. [Sava Banovina, Administrative Department] Fond 145 – Savska Banovina, Odjeljak za državnu zaštitu. [Sava Banovina, Section for State Protection] Fond 179 – Okružni inspektorat, Ogulin/Zagreb [Area Inspectorate, Ogulin/ Zagreb] Fond 180 – Okružni inspektorat, Varaždin [Area Inspectorate, Varaždin] Fond 832 – Milan Šufflay Contemporary Periodicals Demokratija (Belgrade) Glas Bosne (Sarajevo) Hrvatska smotra (Zagreb) Hrvatska straža (Zagreb) Jadranska straža (Split) Jedinstvo (Belgrade) Jeronimsko svjetlo (Zagreb) Jugosloven (Belgrade) Jugoslovenska reč (Zagreb)

1 The Arhiv Republike Srpske was known as the Arhiv Bosanske Krajine [Archive of the Bosnian Krajina] until 1992. Since the present name of the archive officially uses the same acronym as the Arhiv Republike Slovenije, a state archive, I use the acronym ARSr for reasons of clarity.

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Index

administrative system and reform, 8, 42, 48, 96, 100–10, 231, 235; legislation, 79, 91, 93, 208. See also banovinas Adriatic Sentinel (patriotic society), 145–7, 153, 155, 156, 177, 243, 292n138, 310n41, 310n45 Agrarian Party, 40, 43, 56, 59, 91, 95, 211, 245, 338n66. See also Jova­ nović, Dragoljub Ahčin, Ivan, 265n145 Alaupović, T., 82 Albania, 49, 70, 177, 190 Albanian minorities, 11, 37, 38–9, 160, 251, 256n29, 266–7n159, 267n160, 318n120 Aleksandar I (king of Yugoslavia): assassination, 236–7, 239, 240, 332–3n137, 346n154, 347n6, 350n36; on banovinas, 108, 231; birthday, 120, 121, 122; on Church, 260n55, 304n266; on communism, 169–70; coronation, 268n8; corruption, 286n70, 304n266; domestic visits, 163–4, 234, 337n52, 345n145; dying words, 237, 240, 244, 246, 346n155; fealty delegations to, 110–13; in First World War, 6, 22,

23, 26–7; foreign relations, 22, 231, 233–4, 236, 259n50; identification with Serbia, 70, 152–3, 238, 314n86; letters and appeals to, 88–90, 97–9; Maček vs, 64, 68, 217, 236, 280n175, 339n70; Pašić vs, 25, 27, 29, 30, 262n98; policy before First World War, 22–3; Pribićević vs, 59–60, 64, 275–6n120, 278n147, 280n175; Radić vs, 140–1, 279n170; role in parliamentary crises, 47, 48–50, 58, 59, 64–5, 67–71; role in parliamentary politics, 30, 48–9, 51, 231, 233, 234, 272n79, 273n90, 279n170; Royal Manifesto, 77–9, 84, 98–9, 137–8, 150, 154–5, 173, 207; safety, 170, 234, 239, 325n271; on Sokol, 117, 120, 243; on territorial “amputation,” 61; testament, 239, 347n2; youth, 22; Živković vs, 82, 282n21. See also dictatorship Aleksandar I (Obrenović, king of Serbia), 17, 87, 90, 134, 305n275 Alexander, Stella, 342n106 Alfirević, Silvije, 155, 314n80 Alfonso XIII (king of Spain), 165, 321n146

368 Index “amputation,” territorial, 61, 63, 154, 276n126 Anđelinović, Grga, 336n36 Andrijevci, 184, 188 Antić, Milan, 226 Anti-Fascist Council of the People’s Liberation of Yugoslavia (AVNOJ), 250 appeal, right of, 175, 176 Arko, Ivan, 232 army, 55, 152, 171; in civil administrations, 279n160; in 1924 crisis, 49, 270n46, 270–1n48; physical education, 115; Serbian, 27, 29, 38, 70, 142, 154, 171, 261n80; surveillance by, 203 assassination of Aleksandar, 236–7, 239, 240, 332–3n137, 346n154, 347n6, 350n36 Assembly. See Skupština Associated Opposition (UO), 245–7 association, right to, 183–4 Association of Chetniks, 243–4, 274n107 Association of National Workers in Southern Serbia, 88 Association of Serb Chetniks for King and Fatherland, 274n107 Austro-Hungarian Empire, 18, 20, 23, 24, 29, 258n25 AVNOJ (Anti-Fascist Council of the People’s Liberation of Yugoslavia), 250 Baljić, Salih, 160–1, 162–3, 283n24, 315n99, 317n114, 318n124, 319n130 Balkan peace, 233, 236 Balkan Wars, 8, 18, 23, 38, 39, 111 Banac, Ivo, 8, 20, 322n7 Banjanin, Jovan, 230, 342n104, 343n117

banovinas (provinces), 4, 100–10, 103tab., 137, 149, 178, 290n120, 291n135–6; autonomy, 208, 235, 236, 292n140; Councils, 106, 209; departments and sections, 104–6, 173, 292n142; elections, 231–3, 234; elimination, 210, 218, 220; Law on Banovina Administration, 104, 292n142; literacy, 178tab., 179; origins, 100–1, 290n121; religious demographics, 107tab.; response to, 108–9; Serb dominance in, 106–8, 292n145, 293n150 bans (governors), 102, 103–4tab., 291n131 Barac, Antun, 300n226 Baričević, Janko, 154 Barthou, Louis, 236, 237 Bartulović, Niko, 147, 243, 311n51, 347n5 Bateman, C.H., 285n51 Battle of Kosovo, 153, 155, 244 Bauer, Ante, 227, 239, 247, 348n15; on gendarmerie, 350n43; orders, 221, 339n75; on St Sava’s Day, 126, 128, 244, 302n247; on Sokol, 223, 225, 226, 341n102; state vs, 221, 222, 226. See also Roman Catholic Church Baumstark, Stjepan, 186, 187 Bedeković, Josip, 180 Begović, Josip, 234, 345n136 Behschnitt, Wolf Dietrich, 16–17, 19, 257n18 Belgrade, 42, 100, 110–13, 291n136 Belgrade Memorandum, 348n18 Belić, Aleksandar, 22 Benić, Ivan, 181–2, 328n93 Benić, Pavle, 187

Index 369 Biankini, Juraj, 145 Biondich, Mark, 20, 42, 55, 271n50 Birtić, Pavle, 184–90 Bishops’ Conference, 132, 304n267 Black Hand (Serbia), 23, 56, 260n63, 270n46 Blagojević, Drag., 128–9 Blatnik, Matija, 232 blood rhetoric, 153–7, 164, 212, 243, 250, 314n90 Boban, Ljubo, 62, 237, 294n158, n162, 306n5, 338n54 Bobovečki, Ignac, 297n198 Boric, Ibrahim, 302n246 Boris III (king of Bulgaria), 234, 236 Bosiljevo, 197 Bosnia and Herzegovina, 23, 26, 37, 38, 101, 154; autonomy, 69, 101, 219; during dictatorship, 157; elections, 101, 212, 288n98, 290n123; Jews in, 130–1; landowners in, 37, 39–40, 262n103; literacy, 72; peasants in, 39, 262n103; regional identity, 106, 157, 158, 250, 254n8; Srškić policy on, 94–5, 100–1, 134, 157, 158. See also JMO; Law on the Islamic Religious Community Bosnian Muslims, 6, 38, 39, 157, 293n148; in government, 56; identity, 16, 37, 254n8; persecution, 37, 38, 131, 161, 266n148; on St Sava, 128, 130, 132; support to regime, 86, 160, 162. See also Čausević, Džemaludin Bosnian Serbs, 250, 290n124 Bošnjaković, Bartol, 328n93 Browne, Wayles, 256n30 Brozović, Ante, 298n201, 311n52 Brubaker, Rogers, 16 Budak, Mile, 215, 336n36

Bulgaria, 23, 191, 236; Bulgarians, 253n6, 293n146 bureaucracy, 118, 297n198 Cabuna, 98–9 Čaić, Gjuro, 195–6, 331n124, 331n125 Cankar, Ivan, 18 Catholic Action (movement), 221, 227 Čausević, Džemaludin, 37, 284n43, 301n241, 303n256, 315n98, 316n101; on dictatorship, 86, 157–8; on IVZ, 157, 301n241; on persecution, 37, 131, 266n148; political ambitions, 128, 158, 302n244; on St Sava’s Day, 125–8, 131, 157, 244, 301n241, 303n252 Cemiyet (Society for the Preservation of Muslim Rights), 37, 266n150 censorship, 175–9, 324n47–8 Central Press Bureau for General State Information Service. See CPB Černozemski (Veličko Georgi Kerin), 237 Chetniks, 131, 241, 243–4, 274n107, 349n26, 351n48. See also Račić, Puniša choral groups, 182–3 Cincars, 273n95 Čirić, Dusan, 246, 350n39 citizens: fealty delegations, 110–13; participation in Yugoslavism, 138; reception of dictatorship, 97–9, 248, 284n39; surveillance, 167, 173, 197–8 civil servants: education, 96, 304n260, 333n146; surveillance, 183–4, 191. See also corruption communism, 4, 43–4, 66, 94, 169–70, 171, 296n179

370 Index Communist Party of Yugoslavia. See KPJ concentrated government, 46, 55, 60, 269n27, 276n124, 280n175 Constitution (3 September 1931), 207, 208, 211, 334n3 constitutional monarchy, 41 Corfu Declaration (1917), 27 corruption, 49, 55, 72, 214; Aleksandar, 286n70, 304n266; Democrats, 67, 279n167; during dictatorship, 83, 89, 90–1, 93, 95, 231; legislation, 91, 93; Radicals, 48, 52, 53, 73, 270n40, 272n67 CPB (Central Press Bureau for General State Information Service), 111; on change in regime, 320n144; correspondents, 177–8, 203, 325n54, 325n58, 325n59; on elections, 211, 335n15; on festivities, 119, 121; on Roman Catholic Church, 227–8; sections, 176–7 crimes, 179–80, 184–90 Crnjanski, Miloš, 313n69 Croat Federalist Peasant Party, 62 Croat Home Guard, 288n92 Croatia: autonomy, 35, 69, 84, 210; before First World War, 20; Croat-state relations, 226, 227, 228; nationalism, 16–17, 19, 20–1, 22; Parliament, 42; Serbs in, 65 Croatian Harmony, 139, 307n11–12 Croat identity, 117, 221, 223, 225, 229 Croat National Youth (HANAO), 264n124, 296n179 Croato-Serb Coalition (HSK), 20 Croat Party of the Right, 62, 336n36 Croat Peasant Party. See HSS Croat peasants, 20; fealty delegations, 111–12, 140, 305n4; recep-

tion of dictatorship, 85, 143–4; uprisings, 29, 34–5, 171, 215, 218, 262n103. See also HPSS; HRSS; HSS; Yugoslav Peasant Movement Croat People’s Party (HPS, Dalmatia), 264n133 Croat People’s Peasant Party (HPSS), 35 Croat Republican Peasant Party. See HRSS Croats, 19; anti-Croat sentiments, 243, 331n130; on banovinas, 108; fealty delegations, 111–13, 138, 295n162, 295n171; opposition to regime, 34–5, 122–3, 133, 230; pro-Yugoslav, 311n51, 313n75; reception of dictatorship, 83, 85, 87; rhetoric, 156–7. See also Croat peasants; HRSS; HSS Croat Sentinel, The (Catholic newspaper), 176 Croat separatism, 132, 182, 197, 217, 263n108, 313n75 Croat-Serb relations, 85, 97, 114, 245; territorial “amputation,” 61, 63, 154, 276n126 Croat Sokol, 113–14, 115, 147, 297n197 Croat state right, 25, 26, 34, 63, 65, 69, 84; Radić on, 20, 21, 35, 44 Croat Union (HZ), 35 Croat unitarists, 124, 131, 151, 313n75 cultural consolidation, 113, 120. See also Yugoslav Sokol Movement currency reform, 310n36 Cvijić, Jovan, 22, 26, 28, 29 Czechoslovakia, 7, 165, 168, 249 Daily Express (newspaper), 87 Dalmatia, 42, 45, 61, 63, 145, 229, 264n133, 276n122

Index 371 Dalmatian unitarists, 145 Danube Banovina, 109, 112 Davidović, Ljubomir, 34, 55, 270n46, 279n167; in Associated Opposition, 245, 246; Davidović government, 47–50; Korošec vs, 67; Pribićević vs, 46, 54, 278n147; Radić vs, 50, 54, 55, 271n50, 272n79 Deak, Francis, 83 delegations to Royal Court, 110–13, 132, 294n157, 294n160, 294n161, 295n162, 295n171; peasants, 111–12, 140, 305n4; train attack plot, 133, 138, 294n158 Demetrović, Juraj, 289n111 Democratic Bloc, 54 Democratic Party, 40, 213; agrarian reforms, 34; corruption, 67, 279n167; in government, 34, 47–50, 55, 56, 60; Radical Party vs, 43, 46, 47; SLS vs, 36. See also Davidović, Ljubomir; Pribićević, Svetozar Demokratija (organ of Democrats), 47, 48, 270n40 depoliticization, 90, 93, 95, 134, 158 Dežman, Milivo, 279n170 dialects, 16, 18, 258n18 dictatorship, 203, 249, 280n175; administrative goals, 79–80; appeals to Aleksandar, 97–9; calls for, 55–6, 61, 111, 139, 141, 269n32, 273n88, 282n21; causes of, 73; citizens’ participation, 138, 167, 168; discontent with, 202–3, 213, 215, 309n33; failure of, 4, 247–9, 251–2, 351n51, 352n53; first reactions, 83–6, 87–90, 284n39; government portfolios, 80, 81tab., 82, 91; international response, 86–7, 148, 278n152,

284n46, 285n53; opposition to, 137, 153, 215–17, 218, 313n73; parliamentary, 53, 55, 70; petitions, 98–9; proclamation of, 4, 5, 71, 77–9, 84, 137–8, 150, 154–5, 173, 207, 280–1n1, 285n53; resistance to, 123, 143–4, 180, 196, 197, 203, 229, 244, 248, 249; resolutions against, 218–20; rhetoric, 153–7; support to, 83, 86, 87–90, 160, 162 Dimić, Ljubodrag, 292n145, 293n150, 351n51 discrimination, 158–60, 161 Djokić, Dejan, 263n105, 271n62 Doberšek, Karl, 192–3, 193 Dobrivojević, Ivana, 179, 194, 331n128 Dom (organ of Croat People’s Peasant Party), 21 Ðorđević, Slavka, 161, 317n117, 317n119 Doumergue, Gaston, 65 Dožić, Gavrilo, 231, 236, 280n175, 313n73, 315n91, 343n122 Dragić, Milorad, 243, 340n88, 341n89 Drašković, Milorad, 44, 170 Drava Banovina, 112, 191, 215, 220, 232 Drina Banovina, 110, 112, 121, 124, 125, 126, 127, 302n248 Drinković, Mate, 68–9, 71, 82, 163 Drljević, Sekula, 54 Dubrovnik, 109, 133 Dučić, Joyan, 112 Ðukić, Antun, 111–12 Dvorniković, Vladimir, 300n226 economic situation, 39–40, 72, 96, 176, 229, 270n36, 284n46, 289n105 education, 72, 297n194; of civil servants, 96, 304n260, 333n146; Islamic, 316n109; Serbianism in,

372 Index 21–2, 96–7; unification of, 150, 312n59; Yugoslavism in, 96–7, 229. See also schools elections, 51, 209–13, 344n132; 1927 elections, 212; 1931 elections, 212; 1935 elections, 245–7; electoral law, 344n124; electoral manipulation, 232–3, 246, 247, 350n40; electoral system, 42, 208–9, 334n5; local, 101, 231–3, 234, 288n98, 290n123; opposition on, 211, 212; press coverage, 335n15 ethnic identity, 15–16, 38–9 ethnic minorities, 23, 38–9, 256n29, 266n159, 267n162, 308n26 exile, internal, 181, 191 Falcon on the Adriatic (magazine), 156 fealty delegations. See delegations to Royal Court federalism, 17, 31, 35, 48, 102, 169 federalist bloc, 45, 46 federalist Yugoslavism, 17 festivals, 133 First Balkan War (1912–13), 171 First Serbian Uprising (1804–13), 17, 257n16 First World War, 6, 20, 23–4, 120, 212; national development in, 6, 7, 25, 32, 64, 71; Serbia in, 23–4, 42, 57, 60, 70, 111, 152, 236; Yugoslav identity in, 5, 18, 21, 22, 26 First Yugoslav Communist Congress (1919), 322n9 foreign relations, 236; diplomatic and military alliances, 22–3; with France, 64–5, 86, 165, 233–4, 258n27, 269n29, 278n152, 284n46, 346n152; with Great Britain, 86–7, 94, 97, 148, 165, 284n46, 285n53

France, 236; foreign relations with, 64–5, 86, 233–4, 258n27, 269n29, 278n152, 284n46, 346n152; response to dictatorship, 86, 87, 94, 148, 165, 278n152, 284n46, 346n152 Funarić, Mijo, 188 Gajret (pro-Serb Bosnian Muslim organization), 92, 177 Gangl, Engelbert, 115, 116, 117, 296n182, 297n200 Garašanin, Ilija, 17 Gavrilo V (patriarch), 231, 236, 280n175, 313n73, 315n91, 343n122 gendarmerie, 197, 203, 305n271, 323n30, 333–4n149, 337n51, 350n43 Geneva Agreement (1918), 28, 29 Georgijević, Jovan, 300n229 Germany, 203, 322n5, 346n154; German minorities, 11, 38–9, 256n29, 266–7n159 Gerstner, Ferdo, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190 Gjuračić, Joza, 143 Gjuroković, Ivan, 330n122 Glas Bosne (newspaper), 101, 154 Glavno muftijstvo (Office of Chief Mufti), 130 Gligorijević, Branislav, 29, 260n55, 269n29, 272n79; on “amputation,” 276n126; on Croat separatism, 263n108; on dictatorship, 42, 51, 273n90, 352n53; on Pribićević, 277n147; on scholars, 22 Göring, Hermann, 240 governments, 247, 279n170; concentrated, 46, 55, 60, 269n27, 276n124, 280n175; Davidović, 46, 47–50, 271n50; during dictator-

Index 373 ship, 80, 81tab., 82, 91, 149; Jevtić, 241, 245, 247; Korošec, 60, 65, 67, 69; Marinković, 214; Pašić, 42–3; Pašić-Pribićević, 46, 47; PašićRadić, 52; Protić, 33–4, 263n115; Srškić, 217, 218, 282n24; Stojadinović, 247; Uzunović, 52–3, 235, 239, 345n146; Vukićević, 53, 56, 60; Živković, 71, 79, 86, 209–10, 213, 214. See also political crises Great Britain: response to dictatorship, 86–7, 94, 97, 148, 165, 284n46, 285n53; response to Račić trial, 94 Great Depression, 96, 214, 289n105 Greece, 7, 22 Grgić, Ilija, 186–7, 188, 328n93 Grisogono, Prvislav, 286n70 Grol, Milan, 286n70 Gross, Mirjana, 19 Gruber, Franjo, 215, 216 Grumel-Jacquignon, François, 346n152 Habsburg Empire, 18, 20, 101, 190, 272n78; former Habsburg areas, 25, 39, 54, 60, 149, 150, 154; South Slavs from, 6, 16, 24, 33, 36, 54, 60, 64, 272n78–9 Hadžić, Stevan, 49, 56, 60, 117, 270n46 HANAO (Croat National Youth), 264n124, 296n179 Harmony of Serbo-Croats, The (Nikola Pašić), 25 Henderson, Nevile, 234, 236, 248, 319n136, 345n145 Herceg, Rudolf, 307n11 Hođer, Svetislav, 216, 218 holidays, 120–32; celebration at schools, 124–5; celebration in

church services, 122–3; legislation, 576; opposition and provocation, 122–3; overview, 122tab. See also St Sava’s Day Horvat, Josip, 348n15 Howard-Smith, C., 289n110 HPS (Croat People’s Party, Dalmatia), 264n133 HPSS (Croat People’s Peasant Party), 35 Hrdlička, Eduard, 188 HRSS (Croat Republican Peasant Party), 270n36; coalitions, 43, 45; elections, 44, 45, 51; in government, 46, 47–50, 271n50, 271n54; on national ideology, 35; repression of, 50, 51, 271n62; on republicanism, 35, 44, 45, 72; on Vidovdan Constitution, 40, 43, 52; on Yugoslav state, 52, 272n65. See also HSS; Maček, Vladko; Radić, Stjepan Hrvatska federalistička seljačka stranka (Croat Federalist Peasant Party), 62 Hrvatska nacionalna omladina (Croat National Youth), 264n124, 296n179 Hrvatska pučka seljačka stranka (Croat People’s Peasant Party), 35 Hrvatska republička seljačka stranka. See HRSS Hrvatska seljačka stranka. See HSS Hrvatska sloga (Croatian Harmony), 139, 307n11–12 Hrvatska smotra (Croatian Review), 228 Hrvatska stranka prava (Croat Party of the Right), 62, 336n36 Hrvatska straža (Croat Sentinel), 176, 228, 342n110 Hrvatska zajednica (Croat Union), 35

374 Index Hrvatski domobran (Croat Home Guard), 288n92 Hrvatsko-srpska koalicija (Croato-Serb Coalition), 20 HSK (Croato-Serb Coalition), 20 HSS (Croat Peasant Party), 52, 190, 238, 241, 276n122, 306n5, 339n72; corruption, 274n102; on dictatorship, 83, 85; elections, 211, 212; in government, 52, 59; relation with opposition, 221, 235, 238; repression of, 92, 139, 141, 143, 144, 148, 194; resistance to regime, 134, 230, 257, 306n5; surveillance of, 221. See also HRSS; Maček, Vladko; Radić, Stjepan; SDK Hungary, 5, 34, 36, 43, 72, 94, 199, 219; Hungarian minorities, 38–9, 256n29, 266–7n159 Husim, Ali, 160 HZ (Croat Union), 35 Illyrianism, 19, 122, 258n27 Imamović, Mustafa, 79–80, 174, 299n209, 302n244, 304n267 Independent Democratic Party. See SDS Independent State of Croatia (NDH), 319n130 integral Yugoslavism, 17, 153, 191, 198, 209, 238, 251, 253n4 intellectuals, 20, 30, 112, 180; Croat, 19, 35, 157, 164, 240, 348n15; Serb, 17–18, 21, 29, 64, 95, 147, 153, 257n18, 259n51; Slovene, 18 internal exile, 181, 191 Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization, 38, 237 interpellations, 215–16, 336n36 irredentism, 5, 6, 17, 94, 182, 190, 201, 219

Isailović, Blagoje, 292n145 Islamic Religious Community (IVZ), 157–8, 159, 160, 162 Islamska vjerska zajednica (Islamic Religious Community), 157–8, 159, 160, 162 Italy, 29, 94, 145, 201, 219, 276n122 IVZ (Islamic Religious Community), 157–8, 159, 160, 162 Jadranska straža (organ of Adriatic Sentinel), 145–7, 155, 292n138 Jakir, Aleksandar, 300n226, 313n69 Jamnik, A., 89, 90, 109 Jančiković, Tomo, 172, 173, 272n65 Janka Puszta, 199, 200, 350n36 Janković, Božidar, 198 Jedinstvo (organ of Radical Party), 57, 58, 59, 274n105, 277n132 Jeglič, Anton, 221 Jelena of Serbia, 322n14 Jevtić, Bogoljub, 241, 346n155, 349n30 Jewish minorities, 130–1, 256n256 JMNO (Yugoslav Muslim National Organization), 316n101 JMO (Yugoslav Muslim Organization), 37–8, 160, 194, 278n149, 316n101; coalitions, 43, 45; on dictatorship, 134, 157; elections, 101; in government, 53, 56, 242, 282n24; repression of, 37, 94–5, 101, 158; Sarajevo Points (resolution), 219–20, 338n65; Vidovdan Constitution and, 38, 40, 106. See also Spaho, Mehmed JNS (Yugoslav National Party), 231, 241, 318n123, 349n30, 349n31 Jovanović, Dragoljub, 43, 204, 275n110; on dictatorship, 80,

Index 375 137, 139, 217; pamphlet, 217; on peasant debt liquidation, 172; trials and detention, 95, 172, 217, 337n49, n50 Jovanović, Jovan, 245 Jovanović, Ljubo, 50, 272n67 Jovanović, M.S., 177 Jovanović, Slobodan, 25, 40, 70, 95 JRSD (Yugoslav Radical-Peasant Democracy), 185, 187, 189, 213, 214, 231, 327–8n86, 328n93; opposition to, 190; split in, 215, 218. See also JNS Jugoslavenska matica (national organization), 314n80 Jugoslavenska muslimanska narodna organizacija (JMNO), 316n101 Jugoslavenska muslimanska organizacija. See JMO Jugosloven (journal), 212 Jugoslovenska akcija (Yugoslav Action), 150, 342n110 Jugoslovenska nacionalna stranka (Yugoslav National Party), 231, 241, 318n123, 349n30, 349n31 Jugoslovenska radničko seljačka demokracija (JRSD). See JRSD Jugoslovenska reč (organ of Yugoslav Action), 342n110 Jugoslovenska straža (newspaper), 244, 349n26 Jugoslovenski narodni klub (Yugoslav People’s Club), 218 Jugoslovenski sokolski savez (Yugoslav Sokol Union), 114, 115, 116–17, 120 Jugoslovensko uciteljsko udruženje (JUU), 198, 240, 318n123, 332n133 Jugoštampa (publishing house), 93 JUNAO (Yugoslav Nationalist Youth Movement), 318n123

Jutarnji list (Zagreb newspaper), 83, 84 Jutro (Ljubljana newspaper), 83 JUU (Yugoslav Teachers’ Association), 198, 240, 318n123, 332n133 Kačaci (Albanian irredentist organization), 317n111 Kalafatović, Danilo, 129 Kamenjak, Tone, 156, 314n86 Karađorđević, Petar (Prince of Yugoslavia), 117, 119, 239 Karađorđević dynasty, 17, 27, 29, 111, 310n46, 351n50 Karadzić, Vuk Stefanović, 18 Katolićka akcija (Catholic Action), 221, 227 KBUSB (Royal Banovina Administration of Sava Banovina), 309n34 Kennard, Howard William, 57, 67, 79, 80, 87, 97, 282n21, 285n53, 287n87 Kerin, Veličko Georgi (Černozemski), 237 Keršovani, Otokar, 286n75 King, Jeremy, 15 Kingdom of Montenegro, 38 Kingdom of Serbia, 21, 25, 31, 32, 38, 42, 64; after Balkan Wars, 23; in First World War, 60, 171, 304n265; Yugoslav Committee and, 24, 28 Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, 4, 262n105; administrative units, 8; constitution, 30–1; governments, 33–4; leadership, 32; name change, 100; opponents, 21, 29, 32, 34–5; proclamation of, 18, 27, 29–30. See also Yugoslavia Kingdom of Yugoslavia, 4, 100, 262n105. See also dictatorship; Yugoslavia

376 Index Knežević, Lovro, 215, 216, 336n42 Kocić, Vlajko, 54 Komunisticka partija Jugoslavije. See KPJ Konstantinovich Romanov, Ivan (prince of Russia), 322n14 Kopriva, Alfonz, 191, 192 Kordić, Matej, 269n32 Korošec, Anton: Davidović vs, 67; in government, 60, 65, 69, 83, 97, 165, 296n111, 296n178; Korošec Points (resolution), 219, 224; political agenda, 36, 219, 320n142; prosecution and detention, 220, 234, 237, 239, 279n161 Kosovo, Battle of, 153, 155, 244 Kostrenčić, Marko, 300n226 Kotor Sokol, 114–15 Kovačević, Karla, 140–3, 160, 163, 210, 231, 310n39; opponents, 143–4, 309n29, 309n33, 309n34, 310n35; Pavelić vs, 141, 309n27; peasant rallies, 140, 142–3, 156, 307–8n16, 309n29 KPJ (Communist Party of Yugoslavia), 91, 322n9, 326n68; election results, 43, 169; repression of, 43–4, 45, 137, 169, 170; support to, 322n10 Kraljevska banska uprava (Royal Banovina Administration), 104–6 Kraljevska banska uprava Savske banovine (Royal Banovina Administration of Sava Banovina), 309n34 Kraus, Karl, 202 Krizman, Hinko, 348n15 Krizvari (Catholic organization), 120, 222, 299n207, 339–40n80 Krleža, Miroslav, 180, 326n68 Kuhač (choral group), 182–3

Kulundžić, Zvonimir, 286n70 Kumanudi, Kosta, 345n142 Kun, Béla, 34, 43 Kvarternik, Eugen, 19 Lalić, Bogdan, 129–30, 303n256 landowners, 39–40, 262n103 language, 11, 16, 131, 256n29, 256n30 Law: on Banovina Administration, 104, 292n142; on Bureaucrats, 118, 297n198; on Elementary Schools, 117–18; on the Eradication of Abuses in Official Duty, 91, 93; on the Establishment of the Sokol of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, 117, 118, 119; on the Gendarmerie (1930), 323n30; on Holidays, 121, 129; on the Islamic Religious Community, 157–8, 301n241, 315n92–4; on Middle Schools (1929), 312n59; on Municipalities, 95; on the Name and Division of the Kingdom into Administrative Regions, 100; on Physical Education in the Army, 115; on Popular Schools (1929), 312n59; on the Press (1929), 79, 173, 175–6, 324n47; on Public Security (1921), 44, 67, 79, 91, 170–2, 173, 323n19–20, 324n33; on Public Security (1929), 173–4, 176, 324n42; on Royal Power and High State Administration, 79, 91, 93, 208; on the State Court for the Protection of the State, 79, 173, 174; on Teacher’s Schools (1929), 312n59 Lazić, Živojin, 160, 207, 216, 317n111 League of Communist Youth of Yugoslavia, 120 League of Communists of Yugoslavia, 250

Index 377 legal system, 41, 72, 79, 80, 93 Le Matin, 87 literacy, 72, 178tab., 179 Littoral Banovina, 102, 112 Ljotić, Dimitrije, 245, 349n31 Ljubljana Points (SLS resolution), 219 Lončarević, Ivan, 215, 216, 233, 336n37 Lorković, Mladen, 157, 314n90 loyal opposition, 45, 73, 211, 215–17, 218, 269n22 loyalty to regime, 173; active participation, 150, 167, 168, 174; nationalists vs tribalists, 179–80; passive behaviour, 5, 174, 194, 196. See also surveillance Macedonia, 8, 26, 38, 39, 67, 107; communism in, 43, 169, 322n10; Serbs in, 107 Macedonians, 6, 7, 8, 67, 273n95; Macedonian identity, 16, 250 Maček, Vladko, 50, 62–3, 82, 144, 186, 214, 217, 227, 245, 293n148, 337n48; Aleksandar vs, 64, 68, 217, 236, 280n175, 339n71; on “amputation,” 63; on autonomy, 210, 230; call for neutral government, 69–71, 83–4; coalitions, 211, 245; detention, 137, 235, 237, 238, 241, 345n147; on dictatorship, 85; in government, 214; Pribićević vs, 63, 69; propaganda against, 246; surveillance of, 180; trials, 132–3, 133–4, 138, 148, 220, 304n268, 305–6n4, 306n5, 339n69, 339n70; on Zagreb Points, 218–19 Macrae, Mr (British Consul), 344n133

Maglajlić, Ibrahim, 158–9, 160, 162–3, 315n99, 316n101, 317n113, 319n129 Makarevič, Šerif M., 161–2, 318n123 Maksimović, Bozidar, 56, 128, 207, 217, 245, 349n31 Maksimović, Vojin, 67, 279n160, 279n161 Maretić, Toma, 300n226 Marija (queen of Yugoslavia), 234 Marinković, Vojislav, 117, 149, 214, 217, 345n142 marriage, 161–2 martial law, 171 Marušić, Drago, 223–4 Masaryk, Tomáš Garrigue, 19, 298n200 Mayer, Martin, 333n145 Mažuranić, Zelimir, 226, 230, 289n111, 343n117, 348n15 Meštrović, Ivan, 80, 236, 240–1, 279n170, 282n16 Mežnarić, Franjo, 308n16 Mičić, Dr, 109 Milićević, Vladeta, 199, 332n137 military. See army Milosavljević, Svetislav “Tisa,” 108, 119, 120, 298n205 Ministerial Council Declaration (July 1930), 148–53, 164 Ministry: of Education, 116, 124–5, 130, 191, 192, 194, 198; of Internal Affairs (MUP), 100, 105, 106, 139, 173, 194, 200–1, 323n30, 332n133; of Justice, 158, 160, 161, 299n218; of Religion, 160, 299n218 Mitrinović, Dimitrije, 151 Mlada Bosna (Young Bosnia), 151 Mladi stražar (The Young Sentinel), 146

378 Index Montenegrins, opposition to Yugoslavian state, 8, 38, 266n155; Montenegrin identity, 38, 257n9 Montenegro, 19, 20, 22, 23, 38, 69, 262n92; communism in, 43, 169, 322n10 Morava Banovina, 112, 316n103 Moskovljeví, Professor, 332n133 mosques, 132 Mrkonjić, Petar, 274n107 Muhufazai Hukuk Cemiyet (Society for the Preservation of Muslim Rights), 37, 266n150 municipalities, 95 MUP (Ministry of Internal Affairs), 100, 105, 106, 139, 173, 194, 200–1, 323n30, 332n133 Muslim-Orthodox relations, 129, 161–2 Muslims, 37; discrimination, 158–60, 161; education, 316n109; identity, 16, 37, 254n8, 293n151; landowners, 39–40; Law on Islamic Religious Community, 157–8, 301n241, 315n92–4; opposition to regime, 37–8, 94–5, 157–9; persecution, 37, 38, 131, 161, 266n148, 318n124; properties and cultural objects, 132, 159; on St Sava’s Day, 125, 126–8, 129, 130, 131–2; Serb, 37, 303n255, 318n123; Serbianization of, 106–7; in Sokol, 318n123; support to regime, 86, 160, 162 Najdorfer, Mirko, 139, 199 Napredak (Progress), 92 Narodna odbrana (National Defense), 296n179, 318n123 Narodni seljački klub (People’s Peasant Club), 215

Narodni val (HSS organ), 307n11 narodno jedinstvo (national unity), 20, 31, 33, 73 nation (definition), 15 national anthem, 182, 183 national associations, 138, 145, 156, 244 National Council (Zagreb), 28, 30 National Defence, 296n179 national identity, 15–16, 251 nationalism, 250; categories of, 16–17; Croat, 132, 190; separatism vs, 152, 313n69; Serb, 15, 16–17, 21–2, 151, 153, 250, 251; Slovene, 18; tribalism vs, 5. See also Yugoslavism national unity, 80, 208. See also Yugoslavism national workers, 179–80, 194, 210 NDH (Independent State of Croatia), 319n130 Near East (British magazine), 94 Nedić, Milan, 225 Nettuno Conventions, 60, 276n122 New Movement (unitarist group), 336n36 newspapers, 326n65, 326n66 Nezavisna Država Hrvatska (NDH), 319n130 Nicolas II (tsar of Russia), 22 Nikić, Nikola, 215, 216 Niš, 231, 235, 343n119, 343n120 Niš Declaration (1914), 23 Nova Europa (Zagreb journal), 348n15, 348n16 Novak, Grga, 300n226 Novak, Viktor, 124, 243, 312n67, 340n80 Novi pokret (New Movement), 336n36

Index 379 Novosti (Zagreb newspaper), 66, 67, 93–4, 276n132, 326n65 Novo videlo (Serbian magazine), 351n48 oblasti (regions), 100 Obrenovíć: dynasty, 17, 87, 90, 134, 267n168, 305n275; Mihajlo (prince of Serbia), 122, 299n216; Miloš (prince of Serbia), 122, 299n216 Office of the Chief Mufti, 130 Orao (Catholic youth organization), 113 Oreb, Petar, 234, 345n136 Orel (Catholic youth movement), 221 Orešković, Andrija, 188 ORJUNA (Organization of Yugoslav Nationalists), 33, 296n179, 311n51; opponents, 264n124; repression of, 284n42; SDS and, 322n7 Orlovi (Catholic society), 222, 296n178 Palčić, Ante Matijin, 88–9, 285n60 Paris-Midi (French newspaper), 274n105 Paris Peace Conference (1919), 262n98 parliamentary democracy, 56, 171, 273n88; after assassination, 241–2; return to, 207, 209 Parliament. See Skupština Party of the Right (Croatia), 19 Pašić, Nikola, 32, 34, 42, 171, 264n125, 267n160, 168; Aleksandar vs, 25, 27, 29, 30, 262n98; on Croat state right, 25–6; on joint state, 27–9, 291n131; opponents, 40, 43, 313n75; Pašić governments, 46, 48, 52; on Serbo-Croat relations, 24,

25, 260n60, 260n61; Trumbic vs, 24, 27, 262n98 Pasić, Radomir, 52 Pavelić, Ante, 62, 94, 112, 142, 199, 200, 336n36; Kovačević vs, 141, 309n27 Pavić, Matija, 223 Pavle (Prince-Regent of Yugoslavia), 239, 245, 247, 347n2, 350n43 Pavlin, Tomaz, 298n202, 340n83 Pavunić, Stjepan, 123 Peasant-Democratic Coalition. See SDK Peasant International (Krest’intern), 45 peasant rallies, 140, 142–3, 156, 307n16, 309n29 peasants, 20–1, 39–40, 72, 85, 230, 319n138; communism and, 169; debt liquidation, 172, 214; fealty delegations, 111–12, 140, 294n161, 305n4; reception of dictatorship, 85, 95, 143–4; Serb, 87, 285n51; surveillance of, 142, 145; uprisings, 29, 34–5, 171, 173, 215, 218, 262n103, 349n32; Yugoslav Peasant Movement, 139–45. See also Croat peasants Peasant Union (Seljački Savez), 308n17 People’s Peasant Club, 215, 233 Perˇec, Gustav, 94, 199, 200 Perkovci, 185, 186, 188, 189, 329n101 Pernar, Ivan, 58, 186 Perović, Ivo, 141–2, 215, 226, 239 Pétain, Philippe, 239–40 physical education, 115, 118, 297–8n200 Pijemont (newspaper of Black Hand), 260n63

380 Index Piłsudski, Jozef, 72, 287n88 Pius XI (pope), 226 Podujevo (Kosovo), 98, 99 Pogorelec, Jelka, 198–201, 333n141, 333n144 Poland, 249 police, 142, 145, 168, 170, 180, 183–4, 191, 286n75 political crises, 41, 44, 46–7; parliamentary crisis (1924), 46–51; parliamentary crisis (1928), 47, 57–69, 90 political organizations, ban on, 91, 173, 286n75 Politika (Yugoslav newspaper), 241, 346n155; on banovinas, 102, 104, 108; on Bauer, 341n89; circulation, 326n66; on Constitution (1931), 208; on funeral of Aleksandar, 347n3; on government’s program, 93; on holidays, 122–3; on HSS, 139, 144; on 1931 elections, 211; objectivity of, 326n66; on Račić, 274n108; rhetoric in, 155, 166; on Roman Catholic Church, 225; on Skupština, 57; on Yugoslav unity, 66, 71–2, 151; on Zagreb Memorandum, 348n19 Popović, Justin, 351n49 Popović, Olga, 263n115, 268n1 Popović, Velimir, 56, 127–8, 242, 302n245 Pravda (Belgrade newspaper), 84, 283n32 precani (people from former Habsburg areas), 6, 16, 24, 33, 36, 54, 60, 64, 272n78–9 Predavec, Josip, 133, 220, 339n72 Preka, Nikola, 139 Prelog, Milan, 300n226

press, 326n65, 326n66; censorship, 176, 324n48; legislation, 79, 173, 175–6, 324n47; rhetoric in, 156; on Sokol, 119. See also censorship; Law on the Press Pribićević, Svetozar, 20, 53, 69, 73, 274n101, 277n132, 322n7; agrarian reforms, 34; Aleksandar vs, 59–60, 64, 275–6n120, 278n147, 280n175; ban on memberships, 296n178; Čausević vs, 266n148; on Croat state right, 63; Davidović vs, 46, 54, 278n147; on decentralization, 59–60; exile, 95, 137, 211, 221, 288n102; on federalization, 69; Macˆek vs, 63, 69; Public Security Law and, 171, 172; Radical Party vs, 33–4; Radíć vs, 21, 54, 59; surveillance of, 169, 180; on unification, 59–60, 65, 152 propaganda, 138–9, 198, 245–6, 325n56; against Ustaša movement, 198–201; communist, 277n137; in schools, 156; on Sokol movement, 119, 146, 147–8; on success of regime, 133, 165–6, 207; on Yugoslavism, 230, 238. See also rallies Prosveta (Serb Cultural Society), 124, 125 Protić, Stojan, 33, 44, 61, 264n125 Protulipac, Ivo, 222 provinces. See banovinas Prunk, Janko, 219 pseudo-Yugoslavism, 17 public display of symbols, 171, 197, 229, 314n86, 336n38, 345n138 public holidays. See holidays Public Security Law: (1921), 44, 67, 79, 91, 170–2, 173, 323n19-n20, 324n33; (1929), 173–4, 176, 324n42

Index 381 punktacije (resolutions of opposition), 218–20, 230, 338n65 Purivatra, Atif, 101 Quadripartite Bloc, 60 Račić, Puniša, 58–9, 94, 138, 186, 188, 274n106, 274n107 Rački, Franjo, 19, 122, 299n216 Rad (organ of Agrarians), 95, 275n110 Radić, Pavle, 52, 58 Radić, Stjepan, 20, 31, 44, 45–6, 94, 112, 133, 227, 267n168, 271n56, 272n79, 275n113, 307n16, 313n56; in 1924 political crisis, 49–51; on Albania, 49, 271n50, 271n54; Aleksandar vs, 140–1, 279n170; call for dictatorship, 55–6, 61, 111, 139, 141, 282n21; call for union of Serbia and Croatia, 61; on Croat state right, 21, 35, 44; Davidović vs, 50, 54, 55, 271n50, 272n79; detention and trials, 36, 50, 51, 264n130; in government, 48–50, 52–3, 55, 60, 276n124; on monarchy, 29, 35; murder, 58–9, 62, 65, 73, 82, 138, 144–5, 156, 188; opponents, 313n75; Pribićević vs, 21, 54, 59; rhetoric, 57, 58, 274n105. See also HPSS; HSS Radical Party, 32, 42–3, 53, 61, 210, 213, 217, 238, 242; corruption, 48, 55, 270n40, 272n67; Democratic Party vs, 43, 46, 47, 48–9; elections, 235; federalist bloc and, 45; HSS and, 52, 55; on name of state, 32; opponents, 43, 44; Pribićević vs, 33–4; on Vidovdan Constitution, 40. See also Pašić, Nikola;

Srškić, Milan; Uzunović, Nikola; Vukićević, Velimir Radivojević, Lazar, 289n111 Radošević, Mijo, 124, 151, 313n75 rallies, 224, 231, 235, 343n119, 343n120; election, 246, 349n35; peasant, 140, 142–3, 156, 307n16, 309n29 Ramovš, Jakob, 223 regional organizations, ban on, 207 religion, freedom of, 299n209 religious organizations, ban on, 91, 92, 207 republicanism, 44, 45, 48, 270n35 Republican Party (Serbia), 338n66 Rešetar, Milan, 300n226 resistance, 202–3, 229, 248, 322n5; case studies, 181–201; to Kovačević, 143–4; passive, 196, 229 resolutions of opposition (punktacije), 218–20, 230, 338n65 rhetoric, 153, 153–7, 164, 243, 250; blood, 153–7, 164, 212, 243, 250, 314n90; humour in, 197; parliamentary, 57, 58, 61–2; pre-election, 212 Ribar, Ivan, 93 Riječ (organ of SDS), 57, 277n132, 279n161 Ristić, Periša, 111 Ristović, Vladimir, 57, 276n132 Rittig, Svetozar, 295n162 Roganović, Mirko, 161, 317n117, 317n119 Roman Catholic Church, 92, 260n55; church-state relations, 227; Croat identity and, 132, 221, 223, 225; relations with state, 221, 227–8, 244–5; on St Sava’s Day, 125, 126,

382 Index 128, 130, 132, 244, 302n247; on Sokol, 120, 130, 148, 222–8, 341n99 Romania, 7, 23, 168; Romanian minorities, 11, 38–9, 266–7n159 Rothschild, Joseph, 292n140 Royal Banovina Administration, 104–6 Royal Banovina Administration of Sava Banovina (KBUSB), 309n34 Royal Court: Chancellery, 71; delegations to, 110–13, 132, 140, 294n157, 294n158, 294n160, 294n161, 295n162, 295n171, 305n4 Royal Manifesto (6 January 1929), 77–9, 84, 98–9, 137–8, 150, 154–5, 173, 207 royal power, 79, 91, 93, 208, 209 Royal Proclamation (1 December 1918), 30, 98 Rožman, Gregorij, 221 Rucner, Josip, 188 Rusić, Petar, 184, 185, 189, 328n93 Russian Empire, 22, 28, 97, 259n50, 261n82; Russian minorities, 11, 170, 256n29 Sabor (Croatian Parliament), 42 Sadkovich, James, 336n36 St Sava, 123, 124, 128 St Sava’s Day, 244, 300n223, 303n256; celebration at schools, 124–5, 126, 128, 129, 130, 302n242; hymn, 300n229, 302n247; interfaith relations and, 130, 302n245–7, 303n252; opposition to, 125, 126–8, 130, 131–2, 158, 302n247–8, 303n252 St Vitus Day (Vidovdan), 151, 155 Salihamidžić, Asim, 318n123 Samostalna demokratska stranka. See SDS

Samouprava (organ of Radical Party), 59, 275n113 sanacja regime (Poland), 287n88 Sandžak, 37, 38, 39, 106 Šarac, Nedim, 102, 290n120, 321n2 Sarajevo, 108, 154, 157, 162, 219 Sarajevo Points (resolution of JMO), 219–20 Šarić, Ivan, 226 Sauerwein, Jules, 87 Sava Banovina, 306n5, 309n34, 333n141; delegations from, 112, 132, 294n160; elections, 233; peasant resistance in, 143–4, 215, 216; press in, 326n65; Section for State Protection, 225; Sokol in, 227; state holidays in, 121, 123, 302n248 Savez komunističke omladine Jugoslavije (Communist League), 120 Savez Sokola Kraljevine Jugoslavije, 113, 116, 117, 142 Savković, Miodrag, 277n132 Schlegel, Toni, 71, 93, 133, 199, 279n170, 288n92, 294n158, 295n162 schools, 296n178, 297n194; legislation, 117–18, 312n59; propaganda in, 156; role in national unity, 208, 213, 229, 240; St Sava’s Day in, 124–5, 126, 128, 129, 130 Schutzkorps (Habsburg volunteer militia), 101, 290n124 SDK (Peasant-Democratic Coalition), 54, 60, 72, 211, 220, 273n90, 276n122; calls for reform, 54–5, 56, 57–8, 84; government boycott, 58, 60, 62, 63; Maček vs Pribićević, 69–70, 280n175; in 1928 parliamentary crisis, 59; opposition to government, 62, 65, 67, 69–70; press on, 59, 61; Serbian opposition parties and, 56, 221, 238, 337n48;

Index 383 on territorial “amputation,” 61; Zagreb Points (resolution), 218–19, 220–1, 230, 338n56. See also Maček, Vladko; Pribićević, Svetozar; Radić, Stjepan SDS (Independent Democratic Party), 46, 91, 212, 221, 322n8. See alsoPribićević, Svetozar; SDK Second Serb Uprising (1815–17), 17 Second World War, 251 Second Yugoslav Communist Congress (1920), 322n9 Seljački Savez (Peasant Union), 308n17 Seljačko-demokratska koalicija. See SDK Senate, 208, 209 separatism, 31, 32, 138, 198, 263n108; Croat, 132, 182, 197, 217, 263n108, 313n75; nationalism vs, 313n69; in Sokol, 115. See also Ustaša Serb-Croat relations, 85, 97, 114, 245; territorial “amputation,” 61, 63, 154, 276n126 Serb Cultural Club, 251 Serb Democratic Party, 36 Serb hegemony, 54, 55, 59, 64, 65, 217, 218, 220, 230, 248, 251, 313n75 Serbia, 8; after Balkan Wars, 23–4; banovinas in, 292n145; in nineteenth century, 16, 17–18. See also Kingdom of Serbia Serbian Army, 27, 29, 38, 70, 142, 154, 171, 261n80 Serbian Constitution (1903), 31 Serbian Orthodox Church, 23, 123, 244, 260n55, 293n146; constitution, 336n38; corruption, 304n266; relations with state, 132, 304n266 Serb identity, 107, 131, 151–2, 293n149

Serb nationalism, 15, 16–17, 21–2, 151, 153, 250, 251, 351n49; unitarism vs, 151, 152, 153 Serb Nationalist Youth (SRNAO), 296n179 Serbo-Croatian language, 16, 131, 256n30 Serbs: Bosnian, 250, 290n124; intellectuals and leaders, 17–18, 153; opposition to dictatorship, 153, 313n73; peasants, 39, 55, 87, 262n103, 285n51; reception of Yugoslav ideology, 153; as victim of dictatorship, 107, 293n149, 293n150; Yugoslav Committee vs, 27 Serb Sokol, 113, 115 Seton-Watson, R.W., 26–7, 28–9, 259n50 Šibenik, Stanko, 139, 149, 163 Šišić, Ferdo, 300n226 6 January 1929, 5, 73, 133, 153; first government, 80–2; Royal Manifesto, 77–9, 84, 98–9, 137–8, 150, 154–5, 173, 207. See also dictatorship Skender, Zarif, 129–30 Skupština (Parliament), 42, 43, 47, 50, 71, 231, 233; dissolution, 79, 82; 1931 elections, 209–13; reinstitution, 208, 213 Skupština crime, 58–9, 274n107, 274n108, 274n109, 275n110, 275n116; censorship on, 275n110 Slovenec (organ of Slovene Clericals), 18 Slovene Liberals, 258n25, 338n64 Slovene nationalism, 18 Slovene People’s Party. See SLS Slovene Sokol, 113 Slovenes, 18, 36

384 Index Slovenia, 18, 27, 36, 44, 69, 72, 83, 215, 219; Slovene identity, 117, 219, 221, 338n64 Slovenska ljudska stranka. See SLS SLS (Slovene People’s Party), 40, 43, 45, 56; Democratic Party vs, 36; on dictatorship, 83, 219; elections, 232–3, 235; in government, 36, 53, 56, 60, 242, 265n145; opponents, 36; resolution, 219. See also Korošec, Anton Slunj, 184 Smodlaka, Josip, 263n107 Socialist Workers’ Party of Yugoslavia (Communist), 268n12 Society of the Preservation of Muslim Rights, 37, 266n150 Socijalisticka radnicka partija Jugoslavije (kommunista), 268n12 Sokol Houses, 119, 298n203 Sokol of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. See Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia Sokol movement, 113–20, 192, 340n81; Aleksandar on, 117, 120, 243; membership, 297n193, 298n202; merger of branches, 113, 147, 311n52; opponents, 241, 340n83, 341n99; political nature, 113, 298n201; regional branches, 113–15, 147, 297n197; role in Yugoslavism, 114, 229. See also Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia; Yugoslav Sokol Union Soko na Jadranu (magazine, Falcon on the Adriatic), 156 Soviet Union, 45, 50, 132, 168, 203, 322n5, 346n154 Spaho, Mehmed, 37, 95, 127, 158; arrest of, 220; Baljić vs, 160; on

dictatorship, 134, 157; on Law on Islamic Religious Community, 301n241; Maglajlić vs, 317n113; Spaho Points (resolution), 219–20, 338n65; Srškić vs, 101, 278n149, 290n125 Srdoc, Adam, 192 Srebrnić, Josip (Bishop of Krk), 222, 223, 226, 340n83 Sretenović, Sreten, 89–90 SRNAO (Serb National Youth), 264n124, 296n179 SRPJ (United Socialist Workers’ Party of Yugoslavia – Communists), 322n9 Srpska nacionalna omladina (Serb Nationalist Youth), 264n124, 296n179 Srškić, Milan, 82, 123, 160, 221, 282n24, 314n77; in 1928 elections, 94–5, 100–1, 290n123; Baljić vs, 318n124; Bosnia and Herzegovina policy, 94–5, 100–1, 134, 157, 158; on dictatorship, 56; Spaho vs, 101, 278n149, 290n125; Srškić government, 217, 218, 234–5 Stanković, Ðorđe, 24–5, 260n60 Stanković, Radenko, 239 Stanojević, Aca, 60, 214 Starčević, Ante, 19 State Court Law, 79, 173, 174 State Court for State Protection, 94, 174–5, 196, 220, 330n111, 339n69, 345n136 state unity, 80, 208. See also Yugoslavism Stepanović, Stepa, 56, 269n32 Stepinac, Alojzije, 227–8, 342n104, 342n106, 348n15 Stoikov, Todor, 80, 91, 253n3, 278n152, 321n2, 347n2 Stojadinović, Milan, 247

Index 385 stokavian dialect, 18, 258n18 Štrčin, Ivan, 332n132 strikes, 43, 171 Strossmayer, Josip Juraj, 19, 121, 124, 225, 299n216 student movements, 19–20 student protests, 50, 66–7, 213 Šubasić, Ivan, 236, 345n147 Sufflay, Milan, 164, 180, 336n36 Sundhaussen, Holm, 31, 260n53 Šunić, Josip, 62 Supilo, Frano, 20, 24 Supreme Legislative Council, 93 surveillance, 203, 249; after 1929, 172–9; before 1929, 169–72, 173; near border, 190–3; cases, 181–201; of citizens, 167, 173, 181–3, 197–8; of civil servants, 183–4, 191; definition, 321n1; goals, 168, 173; of peasants, 142, 145; of politicians, 91, 180, 183; of Sokol movements, 118, 142; of teachers, 118, 181–3, 191–6, 198; techniques, 168, 202 Svegel, Ivan, 139 Svetosavlje (Orthodox nationalism), 351n49 Swabians, 131, 304n262 Talat, Selim, 160 Tartalja, Ivo, 145, 147, 310n45, 316n109, 348n15 taxation, 53–4, 272n76 teachers, 296n178, 330n116; surveillance of, 118, 181–96, 198, 331n127 territorial “amputation,” 61, 63, 154, 276n126 terrorism, 44, 132–3, 138, 170 Times, The, 147–8 Tito, Josip Broz, 249, 250, 352n53 Tomasevich, Jozo, 40, 42, 267n165

Tomasevich, Zarko, 246, 350n39 Tomić, Rade, 98 Toth, Nikola, 181–3, 327n78 trade unions, 91 Treaty of Schönbrunn (1809), 258n27 tribal: antagonism, 184, 197; organizations, ban on, 91, 92, 113, 168, 207 tribalism, 5, 150, 168 tribalists, 248, 249; national workers vs, 179–80 Trumbić, Ante, 20, 62, 106–7, 180, 218, 220; Paˇsić vs, 24, 27, 262n98 Tucakov, Mateja, 194–5, 196, 330n120 Turkey, 7, 39 Turkish minorities, 11, 38–9, 267n159 Turopoljac (musical group), 182, 327n74 Tyrš, Miroslav, 113, 222, 223, 224, 225 Ucellini-Tice, Franjo, 225, 340n88 Udružena Opozicija (Associated Opposition), 245–7 Udruženja Četnika (Association of the Chetniks), 243–4, 274n107 Udruženje nacionalnih radnika u Juznoj Srbiji (Association of National Workers in Southern Serbia), 88 Ujedinjenje ili smrt (Unification or Death), 260n63 Unification Day, 120, 122 Union of the Slovene Soldiers (unitarist organization), 150 Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, 116, 117, 227, 243; membership, 119, 156, 226; merger of regional Sokol into, 113, 147, 311n52; opposition to, 118–19, 148; political nature, 118–19, 298n201; press coverage, 119, 177; propaganda, 119, 146, 147–8; Roman Catholic Church vs, 222–8;

386 Index state sponsorship, 119; surveillance, 118, 142. See also Sokol movement; Yugoslav Sokol Union unitarism, 131, 165; Serb nationalism vs, 151, 152, 153 unitarist organizations, 150, 320n139, 336n36 unitarist Yugoslavism, 17, 20, 242, 253n4 unitarists, 17, 152; Croat, 124, 131, 151, 313n75; Dalmatian, 145. See also Pribićević, Svetozar unitary identity, 251 United Socialist Workers’ Party of Yugoslavia – Communists (SRPJ), 322n9 University of Belgrade, 313n74 University of Zagreb, 300n226 UO (Associated Opposition), 245–7 Určin, Milan, 348n15 Uštasa (Croatian Revolutionary Organization), 94, 112, 207, 227, 288n96, 340n80; attacks on Aleksandar, 234, 237; ”Lika rebellion,” 218, 337n51; members, 332n136; propaganda against, 198–201. See also Ante Pavelić Uzunović, Nikola, 52, 53, 70, 149, 231, 235, 239, 241, 343n120 Valjavec, Stjepan, 215, 216 Vanarva (patriarch), 304n266 Vandekar, Milica, 133 Vardar banovina, 112, 181, 316n103 Vardar Macedonia, 38 Vardar (Skopje newspaper), 177 Velika Gorica, 181 Velimirović, Nikolaj, 22, 244, 351n49 Vesnić, Milenko, 34 Vidić, Jakša, 197, 331–2n131

Vidovdan (St Vitus Day), 151, 155 Vidovdan Constitution (1921), 31, 46, 50–1, 72, 102, 172, 247; calls for revision, 59; JMO and, 38, 40, 106; opposition to, 40, 41, 43; on political geography, 292n145; support to, 38, 40, 41, 43, 46, 54; suspension of, 78, 82, 83. See also political crises Vidovdan system, 41–2, 45, 46, 50 Vlach (as term), 187 Vlach minorities, 11, 267n159 VMRO (Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization), 38, 237 Voice of Bosnia, The (newspaper), 101 Vojinović, Perko, 107, 290n121, 293n150 Vojvodina, 107, 109 Vrbas Banovina, 108, 110, 112, 216, 294n160, 302n248 Vrhovni zakonodavni savet (Supreme Legislative Council), 93 Vrnjaˇka Banja, 220 Vučevac, Emilija, 196 Vukićević, Velimir, 53, 56, 60 Vukovar, 350n39 Wachtel, Andrew, 255n18 wakfs (Muslim charitable organizations), 158, 316n104 White Hand (Serbia), 56, 79, 82 World’s Press News, 326n65 YMCA (Young Men’s Christian Association), 297n193 Young, Sir Alban, 270n35 Young Bosnia (movement), 23, 151 Young Men’s Christian Association. See YMCA

Index 387 Young Sentinel, The (organ of Adriatic Sentinel), 146 Yugoslav Academy of Sciences and Arts (Zagreb), 19 Yugoslav Action (unitarist organization), 150, 243, 342n110 Yugoslav Boy Scouts, 297n193 Yugoslav Committee, 24, 25, 27, 28, 29 Yugoslav Criminal Code, 79 Yugoslavia, 263n105; call for redivision, 306n9; demographics, 8–9, 9tab.; models for, 31; name, 291n131; opposition to, 34–5, 37–8, 41, 45, 62, 67 Yugoslav identity, 3–4, 150–1, 168, 229, 247, 249, 253n4 Yugoslav ideology, 17, 168, 229, 248 Yugoslavism, 80, 150–1, 152, 163, 196, 207–8; active participation, 5, 134, 138, 167, 168; after Aleksandar, 242–7; after First World War, 5; before First World War, 5, 18, 19–20, 21–2; Croats and, 19, 24, 52, 144; elections, 209–13; failure of, 238, 247–8, 249; federalist, 17; integral, 17, 153, 191, 198, 209, 238, 251, 253n4; meaning of, 151, 242–3; Muslims and, 158, 162; opposition, 52, 99, 152, 224, 249; policing of, 177, 183, 196, 204; propaganda, 142, 194, 230; pseudo-, 17; rhetoric, 131, 133; role of schools, 208, 213, 229, 240; Serb identity and, 107, 293n149; Slovenes and, 83; unitary, 17, 20, 242, 253n4. See also loyalty to regime; nationalism Yugoslav Muslim National Organization (JMNO), 316n101 Yugoslav Muslim Organization. See JMO

Yugoslav Nationalist Youth Movement (JUNAO), 318n123 Yugoslav National Party (JNS), 231, 241, 318n123, 349n30, n31 Yugoslav Peasant Movement, 139–45 Yugoslav People’s Club, 218, 230 Yugoslav Professorial Society, 332n133 Yugoslav Radical-Peasant Democracy. See JRSD Yugoslav Sentinel, 244 Yugoslav Sokol Movement, 113–20, 149 Yugoslav Sokol Union, 115, 116–17, 296n182; dissolution, 116; Roman Catholic Church vs, 114, 120. See also Sokol movement; Union of Sokols of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia Yugoslav state. See Yugoslavia Yugoslav Teachers’ Association (JUU), 198, 240, 318n123, 332n133 Zagorje, 294n162 Zagreb: delegations from, 111, 295n162, 295n171; visits by Aleksandar, 163–4, 234 Zagreb Memorandum (1934), 240, 241, 348n14, 348n15, 348n16 Zagreb Points (SDK resolution), 218–19, 230 Zagreb Regional Council, 67 zeleni kadar (green cadre), 262n103 Zemljoradničke novine (Agrarian Newspaper), 337n49 Žerjav, Grigor, 82 Zeta Banovina, 109, 112, 215, 302n248 Živković, Petar, 56, 82, 84, 86, 87, 97, 239, 245, 347n2; Aleksandar

388 Index and, 82, 282n21; ban on tribal organizations, 92, 287n79; on corruption, 90, 173; formation of new political party, 150, 209–10, 312n61; Gavrilo vs, 313n73, 315n91; Ministerial Council Declaration, 148–50, 164; on 1931 election, 212; peasant delegation to, 111–12, 113; on Sokol, 114,

115, 117; on state holidays, 123; Živković government, 71, 79, 86, 209–10, 213, 214 Zmaić, Lovro, 188–9, 329n103 Zrinsjki (choral group), 182 Zupanc, Josip, 329n106 Žutić, Nikola, 118, 292n145 Zveza slovenskih vojakov (Union of the Slovene Soldiers), 150