The argument presented in my study is that the motivation to return to a post-conflict society, like Bosnia and Herzegovina, given a viable alternative of livelihood and successful integration abroad is primarily emotional. This premise makes the returnees particularly sensitive to the emotional experience of citizenship and therefore, their understanding of “citizenship as feeling” is expected to be particularly pronounced, nuanced and diversified. In addition, most of the participants are dual citizens, and as such, they are in a position to compare their emotional experiences, or lack thereof, of both home and host state citizenships. Emotional citizenship relies heavily on citizenship as practice (Wood, 2013), that is on the daily experience of citizenship (Nyers, 2007), so for analytical purposes, the concept of “emotional citizenship” is defined as the area of intersection between the daily experience of citizenship and an emotional response. Some examples of the daily experiences of citizenship discussed with the returnees include remembering events from BiH’s recent past and the 1992–95 war; experiencing commemorations of genocide and war atrocities, seeing the BiH flag or hearing the BiH national anthem; using the BiH passport at border controls; attempting to resolve an administrative issue; voting; or paying taxes to the BiH government. The overarching research questions this chapter aims to answer are: What understanding do return migrants have of the ‘emotional dimension of BiH citizenship’? Which specific emotions do they associate with citizenship?

This chapter adds to the growing literature on the distinct emotions constituting emotional citizenship, such as studies conducted on citizenship and patriotic love (Ahmed, 2004; Pantti & van Zoonen, 2006; Brown, 2014; and Franz, 2015), fear (Isin, 2004; Johnson, 2010; Fortier, 2010; and Franz, 2015), security (Jackson, 2016; Skulte-Ouaiss, 2013), or shame (Aguilar, 1996; Brown, 2014). But, as Mas Giralt (2015) points out, scholarly literature on a wider diversity of emotions constituting the emotional dimension of citizenship is still sorely missing. Although the much researched (Brown, 2014) emotion of “patriotic love” is certainly part of the returnees’ emotional landscape, other emotions play an equal, and in most cases more important role. Their emotions are highly diversified and range from rage, anger, frustration to fear, guilt, denial, disgust, shame, disappointment, pity and empathy, to nostalgia and powerlessness. On the opposite side of the emotional spectrum, there is patriotic love, pride, defiance, joy, happiness, and hope. When presenting results, individual voices of the returnees are interpreted within the historical, institutional, political, economic, and socio-cultural context of Bosnia and Herzegovina, since an understanding of the particular context explains the reasons for the existence of these emotions. In addition, some emotions, such as dimensions of guilt, disappointment, and joy, are also traced back to the wider literature on return migration, diaspora, and transnationalism.

4.1 Specific Emotions Constituting the BiH Citizenship

4.1.1 Rage, Anger and Frustration

Anger, rage, and frustration were expressed at events from BiH’s recent past, what happened during the 1992–1995 war. The main sources of such emotions are war crimes, such as genocide, ethnic cleansing and mass expulsions, committed in the past, as well as the apparent lack of post-war justice. Badema is a twenty-year-old Bosniak woman who returned from Germany to live with her family in Srebrenica. She expresses her anger at symbols of perceived Republika Srpska “statehood”, such as entity flags displayed around the Potočari memorial cemetery and the consistent genocide denial of RS authorities.

Badema::

Whenever I pass by the place where those flags are set up, the flags of this so-called republic, the RS, I feel a sense of tremendous anger, because I cannot understand that one person, or a group of people can…I don’t understand it and I don’t want to understand how something like that could happen. I simply cannot accept that all of this happened. I feel so frustrated when I see that RS flag, because I know it flies with sheer force. How could it be blowing in the wind with such ease, after everything that had happened here? And then you look at BiH politics, at our [Bosniak] politicians and at their [Serb] politicians and you feel incredibly angry and you sometimes feel like quitting and saying: ‘I cannot go on like this. I must leave this place!’

The anger felt by Badema is directed at events from the past, but what keeps these events alive for her is the fact that “might makes right” seems to be vindicated. The Potočari commemoration site would not exist if it were not for international pressure on RS authorities (Duijzings, 2007). Also, the main reason the site exists to commemorate the Srebrenica genocide and not other wartime atrocities committed throughout BiH is because of both the massive scale of the Srebrenica massacre and the complicity of the international community (Duijzings, 2007). Alija, a dual BiH and Dutch citizen from Prijedor, expressed his anger at being forced to leave his home in Prijedor in 1992.

Alija::

I mean I was definitely angry! Although I was a child, still I felt anger and disappointment. These were the emotions of a child, but it was only later that I fully realized them. I mean, I was angry because it was not fully clear to me why is it I needed to leave? Why did my friends from school get to stay in Prijedor, while I had to leave? In the end, I was the only non-Serb from my grade to stay in Prijedor. I was confused and angry because of being forced to leave.

The historical circumstances of Alija’s expulsion from his family home in Prijedor, according to the Final Report of the Commission of Experts Established Pursuant to Security Council Resolution 780 (1992), UN Doc. S/l994/674 (May 27, 1994) also included:

Over Radio Prijedor, the Serbs also demanded that Muslims and Croats living in the areas with mixed ethnic populations of Serbs and non-Serbs should mark their housing by hanging out a white flag, and identify themselves by wearing white armbands when they move outdoors as a sign of surrender (Greve et al., 1995).

To properly understand the role of pressure made by the international community in the case of the Srebrenica commemoration and its lack in the case of mass atrocities in Prijedor is the “White Armband Campaign.” In 2012, the initiative by a group of activists to commemorate the mass expulsions of non-Serbs from Prijedor was banned by Marko Pavić, the Mayor of Prijedor with commentary that it was “yet another gay parade” (Nezavisne novine, 2013 as cited in Mihajlović-Trbovc, 2014), thus qualifying the commemoration as “unfounded political exhibitionism” (Mihajlović-Trbovc, 2014, p. 36).

Rage and anger directed at crimes committed during wartime are obviously not reserved only for the Bosniak, because, although greatest in numbers, the Bosniak were not the only victims of war. For Anastasija, a 45-year-old Serb woman, who returned to her native Mostar after years spent in Serbia and Montenegro, a source of anger is the counting of the dead from the past war and the political manipulation with the numbers of victims.

Anastasija::

And plus this, there were no Serb victims?!? You know this is another thing…

Author::

How does this make you feel?

Anastasija::

I don’t exactly have any feelings about it. I mean my emotions are not divided in the sense that “Serb victims affect me much more than any other victims” No. This is absolutely not true. I am frustrated, and irritated by all the lies, the hypocrisy in order to achieve some pointless objectives. Let me say it that way.

Ema, a 35-year-old woman returnee to Derventa feels angry that people in Bosnia and Herzegovina have still not found a way to move on from the past and make amends with the tragedies of the war. Besides feeling angry, she also feels ashamed of the collective inability to stop living in the past.

Ema::

You can see it by yourself. You can see it in my gestures, my body language. I feel anger and rage and I simply cannot believe that we keep celebrating death, that we celebrate the past. I feel angry, but I also feel ashamed. There, that is the emotion. I feel angry and embarrassed.

In 2001, an effort to establish a Truth and Reconciliation Commission for Bosnia and Herzegovina (TRC for BiH) was made to complement the work of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) and “to provide an official forum for all victims and perpetrators to tell their story and ensure that their experience and that of their relatives and friends is preserved as part of the publicly acknowledged history of Bosnia and Herzegovina” (Kritz & Finci, 2001, p. 53, emphasis added). In a situation of “competing commemorative practices” (Duijzings, 2007) and “competing narratives” (Mihajlović-Trbovc, 2014) and where a large percentage of Serbs in BiH believe to have been targeted disproportionately by both the ICTY and the Bosnian War Crimes Chamber (Fletcher & Weinstein, 2002; Barria & Roper, 2008; Karabegović, 2019), the goal of the TRC for BiH would be “producing an authoritative historical narrative that would support nation-building in the fragile and divided country” (Dragovic-Soso, 2016, p. 297). In addition to complementing the work of the ICTY in documenting all acts of violence and human rights abuses committed against citizens of all ethnicities during the 1992–95 war, the TRC was envisioned to assemble a collection of “acts of humanity” (Kritz & Finci, 2001, p. 53).

As part of its mandate to document the abuses suffered by all victims in the recent conflict, the Commission will attempt to document the stories of the real war heroes, i.e., those individuals of all ethnic groups who, despite grave risks, resisted ethnic cleansing and acted to protect victims of other ethnic groups. If Bosnian society is to really reconstruct itself, its citizens need to be informed not only of the crimes committed but also, against that backdrop, of the potential for goodness and brotherhood which remained even amid barbarity and insanity. (Kritz & Finci, 2001, p. 53)

As Dragovic-Soso (2016) explains, because of several reasons, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission for Bosnia and Herzegovina has still not been established.

Anger, rage, and frustration are not only reserved for events from the past. These emotions are expressed towards the present state of affairs, an outcome of the Dayton Peace Agreement. Salih, an internationally acclaimed painter who has returned to BiH from Italy, expresses his anger at the de facto division of Bosnia and Herzegovina, as can also be seen by how the BiH state flag is perceived in Serb and Croat-dominated areas.

Salih::

So, I live within the category of respecting and accepting this flag, but I feel frustrated and angry that members of my people have not accepted it. I am frustrated that they love other flags more and that they still want to secede. This is very frustrating for me! Why do they love other flags more than their own? Why? This is an emotion of revolt. I feel revolted and frustrated. So, as I told you, I accepted this flag fairly, and let us say that I even feel happy, but I feel angry and frustrated that others have not accepted it.

As was previously discussed, regardless of efforts invested by the OHR essentially to impose a state flag that would symbolically be unifying (Kolstø, 2006), the present-day BiH state flag can be seen widely displayed only in Bosniak-dominated parts of Bosnia and Herzegovina, while Croat and Serb ethnic flags continue to be used in other areas (see Bougarel et al., 2007; Jansen, 2015 or Palmberger, 2016).

Ervin, an IT professional returnee from the United States feels angry at the lack of progress the country has made and at being pitied as a citizen of BiH.

Ervin::

This is mainly anger. I feel angry that even 25 years afterwards, so little has been done for our country to create things of which it should be proud. So much has been done in a negative sense, that this country has become synonymous with disfunction, laziness, self-interested behavior and so on. There are so many negative connotations, which I also carry inside and try my best to channel them towards some sort of positive re-enforcement.

Author::

How do you feel as a citizen of this state [BiH]?

Ervin::

Well, I don’t know exactly how to describe it, but I feel like a minority (laughter). I still feel as a part of the people here, but I keep asking questions. I feel depressed, frustrated and angry. I feel all the negative emotions without any of the positive ones.

Author::

How do you feel when confronted with pity?

Ervin::

Horrible! I feel horrible. When somebody tries to pity me because I come from Bosnia, this makes me furious. It frustrates me. This is pure horror.

When discussing his frustration with the current state of affairs in BiH, caused by irresponsible political elites, Ervin is referring to the “dependency syndrome,” identified as early as 1999 by Wolfgang Petrisch, the High Representative (1999–2002). Unlike his predecessor, Carlos Westendorp, who referred to BiH as an “intensive care patient” (see section of this chapter on pity and empathy), Petrisch discussed the “dependency syndrome,” criticizing the local politicians for their “tribalistic battles.”

This is because, at heart, the leaders of the three ethnic groups-the Bosniacs, the Croats and the Serbs—know what needs to be done to secure a future for their country. But our presence here has inadvertently absolved them of their responsibilities as democratically elected leaders. We enable the local politicians to fight their tribalistic battles, and then to place the blame for potentially unpopular compromises squarely on the shoulders of foreigners. I call this the “dependency syndrome”. (Petrisch, 1999)

International aid dependency, with either economic (Papić, 2001) or political (Bieber, 2002; Fischer, 2006) ramifications, has been recognized as an impediment early on in BiH’s transition from a donor-dependent to a self-sustaining economy and in efforts at sovereign state-building. The disempowering effect (Chandler, 1999; Bieber, 2002) of both types of dependencies are cause for citizens, like Ervin, to experience their BiH citizenship with rage and anger.

Corruption in administrative offices and an overly complicated bureaucracy are major obstacles the returnees experience and important sources of anger and frustration. While they were both covered in Chap. 3 when discussing reintegration, here I just look at the emotional response and identify rage, anger and frustration to be dominant. Marija is frustrated as she feels disrespected as a citizen.

Marija::

Anger. I feel anger. I mean this is pure disrespect. This is about disrespecting citizens, because things that are so simple are made to be so incredibly complicated. People experience problems because of these complications and then you need to use personal connections to get a simple document issued. One needs to suffer to get what is logical, what belongs to him or her. You need to beg for what is yours. In the end, when you get this paper, you are made to feel that this was done as a personal favor to you. This is not normal! For example, if I request a title deed from the estate office, I have to call some business connections to get this done. This is an immense source of frustration and anger. I sometimes feel like telling this to the bureaucrat across from the counter: ‘You are NOT doing me a favor! This is your JOB!’

Author::

How do you feel when paying taxes? Do you feel your taxes contribute to overall progress?

Marija::

I believe taxes are paid in all states around the world and this is something normal, but I also don’t think that the taxes are being used for correct purposes.

Author::

So how do you feel about that?

Marija::

Well, I feel angry again. I am again angry with the authorities, because the money from taxes, and we are talking about a lot of money, could be invested in building our country. Instead, this money is being spent on administrative officials. This is completely unnecessary, in my opinion.

Alma feels frustrated with government authorities, who do not have understanding for any new initiatives, such as her Waldorf kindergarten, previously unrecognized within the BiH educational system.

Author::

How do you feel when trying to solve an administrative issue?

Alma::

Angry. Just angry. That is just horrible. For example, I can tell you about the time when I was registering my kindergarten. That was simply awful, and it made me question my decision to return here. There were times when I said to myself: ‘I cannot go on. I have to get out of this country and live a normal life!’

When discussing his frustration with both bureaucracy and corruption in BiH Elvis invokes the often-cited phrase of “normal life” (Jansen, 2015).

Author::

How do you feel when trying to solve an administrative problem? Could you compare your experience here with your experiences in Vermont, U.S.?

Elvis::

Well, we are all stuck in the stone age with these levels of administration and bureaucracy. It is really pointless to even talk about it or to make any comparisons. Any document, I mean even the simplest piece of paper you need to get issued by any government office, takes an entire day or even many, many days.

Author::

What are your emotions in such situations?

Elvis::

Aaaa, very negative. I feel dissatisfied, frustrated and wishing I could live in a normal country with respect for the rule of law. When I came back to live here, it felt as if I went 200 years back in time. Frustration. Nothing but constant frustration.

A longing for “normal life,” which can be either expressed towards life in a country different from present-day BiH or towards BiH’s pre-war past, has been recognized by a number of scholars (for example, Jansen, 2015; Palmberger, 2013a; Palmberger, 2016). There are several different aspects to “normal life” as is often discussed by citizens of BiH, some of which are “the social security and economic well-being people fondly remembered from Yugoslav times” (Palmberger, 2013a, p. 19).

4.1.2 Fear

Although scholarly literature on Bosnia and Herzegovina and media reports are saturated with writings on how fear of one ethnicity from another is dominant, I argue that, even though this ethnicity-based fear is present, it is certainly not the only one. My analysis identifies at least three sources of fear: ethnicity, economic uncertainty, and abuse of political power. A fear of renewed violence and ethnic conflict is part of daily life in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Fascist symbolism and imagery function to keep the ethnicity-based fear alive and show up in various shapes and forms, of which countless examples range from the appearance of “Srbe na vrbeFootnote 1” graffiti in the Vrace neighborhood of Sarajevo, the burning of an effigy of ICTY President Judge Carmel Agius in Livno,Footnote 2 the frequent chanting of slogans at football matches such as “Gazi balije”, “Nož, žica, SrebrenicaFootnote 3” and “Za dom spremniFootnote 4”, or even statements made by officials in power, such as the RS President, Milorad Dodik professing that “Ratko Mladić is a true hero and a patriot.Footnote 5” Alma is a child psychologist who returned from Germany and established a childcare center in Sarajevo. She identifies as a Bosnian-Herzegovinian citizen and an agnostic, making a point of rejecting any ethnic or religious labels in her self-identification. I asked her how she feels as a BiH citizen when she travels through different parts of Bosnia and Herzegovina and in response she turned the discussion to her experiences in Serb-dominated areas of the country.

Alma::

Well, since we are divided in two…I cross the hill to go to East Sarajevo, where I have my dear friends and I walk down a street called Serbian Heroes Street (Ulica srpskih heroja), or another one called St. Vitus DayFootnote 6 Street (Vidovdanska ulica).

Author::

How do you feel as you walk down these streets?

Alma::

Very strange, because after all, aren’t we in Bosnia and Herzegovina? The names of these streets are more Serb-sounding than the names of streets in Belgrade.

Author::

So, how do you feel because of that?

Alma::

Angry, disappointed and, yes, afraid. And it’s not like we haven’t tried to do something differently. Both I and my husband decided we would take the kids skiing to Jahorina, only to show our children that Jahorina is just as much ours as is Bjelašnica.Footnote 7 We keep going to Jahorina where Serb flags are displayed everywhere, Serb holidays are celebrated and everything is closed on January 9. There are other parts of the country, like Romanija,Footnote 8 where I don’t think I’d dare go, particularly at night. Or, for example, when we go to Dubrovnik and drive through Gacko, where we love to stop at a restaurant for excellent lamb roast. Gacko is in our country, but at the entrance of town you find a humongous image of Draža MihailovićFootnote 9 and all of Gacko is decorated with posters of Šešelj.Footnote 10

Author::

And how does that make you feel?

Alma::

Frustrated and, and full of fear.

Alma’s experiences produce a fear of exclusion, discrimination, or persecution based on ethnicity, in this case directed toward non-Serbs. However, it is important to note that an ethnic Serb who rejects the lionizing of WWII war criminals and nationalist leaders could also feel the same type of fear. Also, even though Alma rejects ethnic categorizations in favor of civic identity in her self-identification, a well-acquainted observer could easily place her into a certain ethnic category just by the sound of her first or last name and use this categorization as the basis for discrimination, entirely independent of her self-identification. While analogous examples certainly exist in both Bosniak and Croat areas of the country, the exclusionary nature of street names in the present example suggests that only members of a single ethnic group inhabit them. January 9thFootnote 11 continues to be celebrated in Republika Srpska as a national day, although the Constitutional Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina deemed it unconstitutional. Finally, the public celebration of ultra-nationalist leaders adds weight to the ethnicity-based fear.

A shared fear among citizens of all ethnic backgrounds is a fear for their economic survival. In a country with a 14.9% overall unemployment rate (World Bank, 2021), and a youth unemployment rate of approximately 39% (World Bank, 2020a, b), citizens across the board live in fear of poverty and further economic decline. Ethnic divisions are exploited by local ethnonationalist elites and politicians in power to gloss over economic deprivation and to use manufactured fear as a governing mechanism. “Dobro je dok ne puca”—“The situation is fine, as long as the guns are quiet” is an adage frequently heard in BiH, functioning to keep social expectations low and to prevent more serious social unrest. Anastasija, a 45-year-old Serb woman, award-winning peace activist, lawyer, and community organizer, returned from Serbia to her native Mostar, a city deeply divided between Bosniaks and Croats.Footnote 12 Although she narrated several instances of discrimination she experienced as a Serb living in Mostar, she dismissed the possibility of future ethnic conflict and explained the current situation as caused by warmongering politicians manipulating peoples’ fears for votes and personal financial gain.

Instead of focusing on issues of ethnicity, Anastasija placed the greatest emphasis on the dire state of the BiH economy and pointed to economic hardship as her biggest source of fear.

Author::

How do the frequent calls for a secession referendum in Republika Srpska or the formation of a third, Croatian entity in BiH make you feel?

Anastasija::

There is no chance of that happening. It’s all nonsense to me and simply a question of helping each other out win elections.

Author::

You are not afraid?

Anastasija::

No! Not at all.

Author::

If you ever felt afraid, what would you say causes such feelings?

Anastasija::

Economic insecurity.

Author::

You don’t fear a new war erupting, renewed violence?

Anastasija::

No, no such fears. All of that is empty talk. We won’t have any wars here anytime soon. I am afraid of not being able to pay my bills and to make ends meet.

Returning to live in Mostar, a deeply divided city, to practice human rights law and promote peace activism has not been an easy task for Anastasija. Although she fits entirely into the “minority return” category, she does not view ethnic intolerance, in and of itself, as the biggest problem. She recognizes the ability of self-serving populist leaders to prey on the weaknesses of a traumatized citizenry. As long as the traumas of war remain unhealed, nationalist rhetoric continues to win votes, leaving aside the pressing need for higher living standards, economic development and growth. Anastasija’s thoughts were echoed throughout Bosnia and Herzegovina, during the protests of 2014 and the organizing of civic plenums to address the injustices of corrupt privatization practices resulting in massive asset striping and further degradation of workers’ rights. In the words of Svjetlana Nedimović,Footnote 13 a political analyst and one of the key plenum organizing figures, the protests were one of the first opportunities for citizens to find expression as part of the “social” and not solely of the “ethnic.” “Gladni smo na tri jezika”—“We are hungry in three languagesFootnote 14” was one of the most popular protest signs and a poignant summary of the state of social justice. For Anastasija and other BiH citizens, the state does not provide any sort of economic certainty and, as such, citizenship is experienced through fear.

Abuse of political power, corruption and a general lack of the rule of law are problems of such scale in postwar BiH that they have become a source of fear for its citizens. My interviewees are very brave and resilient people, but regardless of their courageous response, a realistic basis for this fear exists. Arif is a 56-year-old Bosniak man, a survivor of Omarska, Keraterm and Trnopolje, the three concentration camps set up by Bosnian Serb forces in Northwestern Bosnia during the 1992–95 war. He was expelled from Kozarac by the Army of Republika Srpska in 1992 and came to Norway as a refugee. After spending 20 years in Norway, running two successful businesses there and acquiring Norwegian citizenship, he returned to his native Kozarac to start a dairy farm. Although returning to live in Republika Srpska as a Bosniak meant he had to overcome various obstacles inherent to minority return, the greatest challenges he currently faces are racketeering ambitions of local Bosniak politicians, with death threats attached.

Arif has recently expanded his operations to a small plant in the predominately Bosniak part of the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. The small town of Arif’s newest business expansion also has a sizeable Serb returnee population, which Arif’s company now employs. Arif has repeatedly rejected extortion requests from the local Bosniak politicians and as a result has gained considerable opposition from the local power elites. In an ironic and truly mind-boggling twist of fate, the racket-hungry Bosniak politicians have labeled Arif, a “Serb-collaborator,” since he brought jobs to a number of the local Serbs. I asked him how he feels when he receives daily death threats from members of the corrupt ethnonationalist elite consumed in racketeering efforts.

Author::

Don’t you ever feel afraid?

Arif::

What am I supposed to fear? When you’ve managed to load a truck of 350 dead bodies in 1 day, collecting body parts as you go along, you also understand that a human being, upon losing the ability to reason, becomes more ferocious than any beast. Isn’t that true? Who am I supposed to fear anymore?

Author::

I am not saying that you should be afraid. I am just asking whether you are afraid.

Arif::

Why should I be? What else can they do to me? They say that they will put me two meters under because that’s what happens to the disobedient and that they have their people to take care of business. Whenever I hear such talk, I immediately ask when and where. Would you like to do it in downtown Bihać? Would you like to blow up my car? Would you like to throw me into the river with a rock tied around my neck? What do you want from me? I employ Serb returnees. Of course, I do. That is only natural. I too am a returnee. They say that I give jobs to chetniks. Well, the only division I recognize is one where we ask ourselves: Are we human? Whenever they threaten me, whenever they say that they will make me disappear, I openly talk of their crime and corruption. Courage. Courage is the answer. You need to be brave in this country, more so now than during the wartime camps.

Arif’s life story is truly inspirational from various perspectives: an ability to overcome difficult-to-imagine circumstances during wartime, a postwar commitment towards building a multiethnic and peaceful society, an orientation towards progress and development, and remarkable courage in the face of postwar threats.

The home state has failed Arif at least twice–during wartime and in peacetime. The state apparatus was not strong enough to protect Arif from the horror of Bosnian-Serb run concentration camps and it is also not strong enough now to protect Arif from death threats of corrupt Bosniak politicians. In either case, Arif has the basis to constitute his BiH citizenship through fear, however, he chooses to be brave in relation to a state, which is not designed to keep its citizens safe. Arif, similarly to other participants in my study, continues to live and work in the home state, regardless of the obstacles he encounters, mainly because of his individual agency, courage and dedication and despite a state structure set up to defeat its citizens. Abuse of political power and the fear it creates is an important element of the everyday experience of BiH citizenship. While fear forces some to leave the country and join the over two million BiH citizens living abroad, others choose to stay and show great courage in facing the challenges of life in Bosnia, perhaps courage greater than what was required during wartime.

Facing fear and the daily threat of violence and choosing to be brave is also Ema’s strategy of making her return to her small hometown in Northern Bosnia a success. She is a 35-year-old former marketing executive, who refuses the standard ethnic and religious categories and refers to herself as European regarding her ethnic background and ChristianFootnote 15 in terms of her faith. Ema left the comfort of a corporate job in Austria determined to grow an organic herb farm in the BiH entity, Republika Srpska. She came back by herself, while most of her family members still reside in Austria. When I asked about her attitude towards fear, she narrated her direct and daily experience with violence and the threat of violence.

Ema::

No, I am not afraid. I know this sounds strange, but I just expect that somebody would attack me here, even physically. One of the first arrangements I made with my family is what would happen to the farm if something were to happen to me.

(We both get teary-eyed and stop the conversation for a couple of moments, so that we could collect ourselves and continue our interview. I look at her with partial disbelief and shock.)

Ema::

Yes, I am serious. I get emotional, because I am tired of the daily struggle. I am tired, but I am not afraid. I told you. I simply knew from the beginning what is it was that I am getting myself into and I had a long talk about it with my family. This is all because we found weapons and unexploded shells in our fields. Any day, I could step onto a mine while we plow the fields. If I were to step onto it, it would all be finished, end of the story. I wouldn’t need to get shot by anybody. An unexploded mine would be enough to do the job. Although, I also experienced being attacked right in front of the office.

Author::

What happened?

Ema::

A half-drunk guy walked up to me angrily, yelling and waving a brick in his hand, getting ready to throw it at the front office.

“What is this green color on your door? Is this some kind of Muslim joint?”–he screamed at me in rage.

I asked whether he was literate and if so, that he could read what our company is all about as it is described on our front door. He kept waving his brick at me and moved back after hurling a few more slurs and insults. He was referring to the green color of our company branding, the color of grass, vegetables, fruit, you know. We produce organic healing herbs and we use the color green for our advertising, a natural choice for us. I just simply could not believe that the war hadn’t taught us anything. I sometimes feel that we would be ready to get back to guns and attack our next-door neighbor again.

Author::

Did you report the incident to the police?

Ema::

Oh no, no. People here have advised me I should not contact the police. I did that when I noticed that lumber was being stolen from a forest next to our fields. I called the police to report the theft, but I was later told that this is not how life works here. I was warned not to call the police too often, that is, unless I wanted my fields burnt to the ground in retaliation.

When I asked her whether she was happy to have returned, Ema responded with a resounding, “Yes, of course!” From her tone, I was not sure whether she was being ironic or serious, so I rephrased the question and asked whether she would consider her return to BiH to be successful. Re-affirming her initial answer, and leaving me entirely perplexed, she said, “Fantastic!”

Ema is a 35-year-old woman with an extremely positive attitude towards life and her business. She wants to contribute to her home state and make a positive difference. Ema is very well aware of the dangers of living and working in a state that is not there to protect or support her. In fact, her daily experience of citizenship is filled with fear, while her response to fear is one of courage. She says she is not afraid, because she rejects acknowledging the fear. She responds with courage to threats of violence, ethnic slurs, and a general sense of insecurity, where calling the police might cause retaliation.

4.1.3 Guilt

Guilt, as part of the emotional dimension of citizenship, is present on a collective level expressed by others and experienced internally. Lejla, a Bosniak woman who spent the entire war in besieged Sarajevo, experiences both denial and hints of collective guilt when traveling to Serbia.

Lejla::

Whenever I go to Serbia, let’s say to Belgrade, what I notice is a constant attempt to cover up the truth. Anytime I take a taxi there and the driver asks me where I am from and I answer, they immediately start saying nice things about Sarajevo. They say things like ‘I just don’t know why is it we needed to go through all that….’ I mean, what is the purpose of such comments? I believe it is because they do feel guilty. I don’t think that this person feels individually guilty because of something he had done, but there is some collective sense of guilt. So, when learning that I am from Sarajevo and that I was in Sarajevo during the war, maybe, perhaps, or this was at least my sense that they, the Serbs, carry a certain guilt with them.

Anastasija, an ethnic Serb woman living in Mostar, a city divided between Bosniaks and Croats, feels the collective guilt of Serbs regarding the Srebrenica genocide.

Anastasija::

So, Srebrenica, Srebrenica is my total agony. This is probably the worst example of hypocrisy in our entire country. I’ll tell you what I mean by this. Every year, I watch the funeral for the identified victims. The Bosniak politicians benefit from this collective tragedy throughout the year. So, I as Anastasija, a Serb by birth, I have no right to even mention Srebrenica, because my own are the guilty ones. Who are “my own”? We cannot talk about people, human beings here [in BiH]. We can only talk about Serbs, Croats, and Bosniaks and God forbid, the Others. And the only reason for this separation is maintaining power, control, and the status quo.

In presenting their vision for a Truth and Reconciliation Commission for BiH, Kritz and Finci point to Karl Jaspers’ four dimensions of guilt: criminal, political, moral and metaphysical, which needed to be addressed by German society in order to deal effectively with its Nazi past.

As was previously discussed, the work of the TRC for BiH was envisioned to complement the work of the ICTY. The court is responsible for prosecuting criminal guilt, thus individualizing it and countering the tendency towards collective guilt that could lead to further revenge, violence, and bitterness. Establishing criminal guilt clarifies that specific individuals, and not entire ethnic groups, committed atrocities for which they need to be held accountable. However, moral guilt assumes that wartime atrocities are not committed in complete isolation from the rest of society.

Beyond individual criminal accountability, a society which has been sullied by the commission of genocide or other widespread atrocities in its midst must also explore and reckon with the problem of passivity when war crimes are committed in the name of one’s people. (Kritz & Finci, 2001, p. 52)

The role of the TRC for BiH would be primarily to deal with the moral guilt, such as experienced by Anastasija. As was mentioned previously (Dragovic-Soso, 2016) the TRC for BiH has not yet been established.

As part of the rare and “lucky” group, having both survived the war and established themselves abroad, the returnees speak of “survivor’s guilt”. Sanela was expelled from Banja Luka during the war and finally found refuge in the U.S. Her family’s story is in many ways the “American dream”. Her family own a successful family business in Los Angeles, California, while she decided to return to BiH and run a foundation providing scholarship opportunities to disadvantaged children.

Sanela::

The story is that ‘others stayed and you, you ran away from Bosnia and left it to destruction.’ I am not sure of the moment when it is it I heard this for the first time. Was it from my parents, somebody else, or the TV and media? I am not sure, but this became engrained. I simply cannot remember the first instance when it is that I heard this, but obviously, it made me feel guilty. I had a guilty conscience. This story might have been part of our collective storytelling at the refugee camp. Some people were saying ‘we are the ones who were saved, while others stayed there to fight.’ The story would go on something like this…‘perhaps we should have stayed to fight as well?’ Some would say things like: ‘No, I am happy that I managed to save my life’ or ‘I have nothing to fight for. I don’t believe in that war.’ I mean, there were all kinds of stories, as there were all kinds of people in the refugee camp.

Author::

How could you feel guilty about leaving Bosnia when you were expelled from Banja Luka?

Sanela::

Yes, you are right. But, what I am trying to do now is enter the mind of an 11 or 12-year-old girl, so that I can understand why is it I felt that way. We all worked so hard to understand these issues; underwent therapy after therapy sessions. All my academic work was devoted to post-conflict studies. I volunteered and worked with other refugees and did everything I could to recover. I don’t think it is an accident why I chose this profession. All of this was part and parcel of my recovery, but all I want to say is that from the perspective of a child, I had a guilty conscience, because I was the one who escaped, while others, including so, so many innocent children, like me, stayed there to get killed. They were just like me. Why was I so special? What was different about me? Why was I so fortunate to leave, while others stayed?.

Boccagni and Baldassar (2015) discuss how an analysis of guilt is to a large extent absent from the literature connecting migration to emotions, nevertheless “guilt, guilt, guilt is what all migrants face” (Baldassar, 2015, p. 81). Baldassar (2015) provides an extended psychological analysis to illustrate how guilt is inherent in the migration process itself. In an earlier study, Baldassar (2001) shows how post-war Italian migration from the paese (home country) was internalized by the migrants as an act of abandonment, one which must be continuously redeemed by demonstrations of economic status and return visits to prove emotional ties to those who stayed behind in the homeland. Although Sanela’s story is different in that she was forced to leave her home, it is similar to the findings of Baldassar (2001) and Baldassar (2015), as she also internalized her departure from BiH as an act of abandonment, one to be redeemed, in her case with her physical return.

4.1.4 Hatred

A peculiar lack of hatred as an emotion is observed among the study participants. On the contrary, hatred is actively rejected by them. Arif, a Bosniak man, who was held captive by Bosnian Serb forces in three different concentration camps, narrates his experience in the camps, his testimony in front of the ICTY and the imperative for both Bosniaks and Serbs to live together again.

Arif::

Perhaps people cannot understand that the torture and crimes oneFootnote 16 survived…perhaps people cannot understand that the day I loaded 250 people in Keraterm’s room number 3, that was the day from which, even if I had any hatred prior to that and I did not, I simply could not go on hating anybody. There is simply nobody I hate, I mean, not even the one facing opposite me in the Hague. I had no hatred toward him even when I testified against him, telling about what he did; how he did it and how we picked up the pieces of human flesh, how we picked up human bodies. This same person ended up crying after hearing my testimony. Whether or not these tears were honest is really not important. I spent my days fighting with their lawyers and proving to them that my children and their children must live together again here, under the Kozara mountain. Otherwise, we will all face mutual extinction.

Arif is not in denial of the horrific atrocities perpetrated during the war. In fact, he participates in memorial ceremonies in his native Kozarac and frequently speaks of his personal experiences in the concentration camps. Despite the past, he believes in the possibility of building a better future for both Serbs and Bosniaks. The future he envisions is based on justice and truth with no place for denial, however, he also sees no place for hatred either. As an ethnic Serb, with no experience of war and emotionally indifferent towards BiH citizenship, Siniša also expressly rejects hatred.

Author::

What emotions do you have when you see the BiH flag or hear the national anthem?

Siniša::

Honestly, honestly, I have no emotions none whatsoever. I definitely have no hatred. No, no hatred.

Although the returnees, regardless of their ethnicity or their wartime experience, do not discuss hatred as part of their “citizenship as feeling,” they perceive varying expressions of hatred throughout Bosnia and Herzegovina.

While actively rejecting hatred in themselves, the returnees, however, observe the hatred of others in their environment. Examples of acts motivated by hatred include those directed towards state symbols, such as the BiH state flag or coat of arms in Serb or Croat dominated areas of BiH or towards sites of cultural and religious heritage. Selim is a Bosniak man who returned to the now-predominantly Serb Banja Luka, where symbols of BiH statehood are generally treated destructively. He considers hatred to be counterproductive to him, but observes it in others around him.

Author::

I noticed that there are absolutely no BiH flags here [Banja Luka].

Selim::

Well, there are none. Even if one flag were to be placed somewhere, people from around here would tear it down and set it on fire. They would destroy it immediately. The only places for this flag are the very few official state institutions and that is it. If it were hung anywhere else, it would be torn right away.

Author::

How do you feel because of that?

Selim::

Well, you know...they [people tearing down BiH flags] are the ones who should feel bad about that. I have become immune to such behavior. I was brought up to say, as my deceased father used to say, ‘my son, hatred does not kill the hated one. It kills the one who hates. Go ahead, hate others. Hatred will kill you, not them.’

According to the returnees, although incidents of inter-ethnic hatred are observed and discussed, what is also mentioned is that inter-ethnic hatred is intentionally stirred by self-serving politicians for their personal gain.

Damir::

In my opinion, these eventsFootnote 17 need to be commemorated. We cannot deny everything that has happened. We need to mark these events and we need to keep remembering. However, the problem is that the politicians in power use victims for their personal gain. They stir up hatred in our people, while only thinking about their personal interests. This is how they preserve power and control. This is true of nationalistic parties in both entities and, in the third part, in areas of Herzegovina.

As “segmentation of politics along ethnic lines” (Zdeb, 2019, p. 12) remains to be the defining characteristic of party politics in BiH, inter-ethnic hatred, resentment, bitterness and memories of wartime atrocities continue to be chief devices for electorate mobilization.

4.1.5 Denial

Genocide denial is a source of much disappointment and pain for the returnees, regardless of their ethnicity. For Anastasija, an ethnic Serb, the greatest problem is a general lack of empathy of Serb politicians towards victims of the Srebrenica genocide.

Anastasija::

I feel horrible when Serb politicians devalue these things, when they negate and deny what actually happened. But, I am telling you again that I also feel frustrated that there is no empathy, no humanity expressed towards the victims. They should just hold their heads and be quiet. They need to at least show some humanity. Thousands and thousands of people are buried underground. There is nothing to talk about. There is simply nothing that can be said. So, that is how I feel about it.

Vedad, an ethnic Bosniak, views genocide denial and historical revisionism as sources of continued tension in the Balkans, most importantly BiH, robbing all of its citizens of a more prosperous future.

Vedad::

As far as bigger things are concerned, I also feel pain and disappointment, because there is no collective catharsis, particularly in Serbia. You know when the German thing [WWII] was over, they said: ‘we are guilty for all of this and we feel sorry’ and they keep saying the same thing until today. Of course, there is a fundamental difference between Serbia in the late 1990s and Germany towards the end of WWII, in terms of being militarily defeated. Of course, of course, this is also one of the reasons. You can see what is happening over there [in Serbia] for yourself. Recently, historical facts are being corrupted and history revised, so the partisans are being declared as criminals and Draža Mihajlović and the like are being rehabilitated. Similar things are also happening in Croatia. I simply cannot understand that a country like Croatia, a member of the European Union, with all necessary conditions for continued progress, still dwells in fascism. You know, all of this is very disappointing to me, because their [Serbia’s and Croatia’s] attitudes affect us profoundly. The Serb and Croat peoples live here and all of these tensions are transferred over to them. In the end, we don’t have the comfortable, relaxed environment for co-existence. We spend all our lives, our entire lives trapped in tensions, running around within all this insanity.

Anastasija’s and Vedad’s frustration is with denial and tendencies towards historical revisionism. While a detailed examination of the phenomenon of historical revisionism in countries of the former Yugoslavia and its detrimental effects on peace and reconciliation in the region lies beyond the scope of my study, it is important to note the brave individual voices, such as Sonja Biserko, Founder and President of the Helsinki Committee for Human Rights in Serbia.

Therefore, even though Ratko Mladic and Radovan Karadzic, former top-level Bosnian Serb war leaders, were finally—after the run—arrested in Serbia and transferred to The Hague Tribunal on trial for genocide, genocide is still denied in Serbia. True, some crimes are no longer denied, but they continue to be justified or relativized. The establishment in 1995 and the steady entrenchment of the Bosnian entity, Republika Srpska, as a state within the state of Bosnia and Herzegovina, reinforces the culture of denial and Serbia’s elites’ belief that fulfilling the dream of a Greater Serbia might still be—in the end—just a matter of time (Biserko, 2012, p. 4).

Denial is part of the daily experience of BiH citizenship, felt strongly by returnees of different ethnicities. In July 2021, Valentin Inzko, the High Representative at the time, imposed an addition to the BiH Criminal Code banning the denial of genocide and all war crimes. According to the Srebrenica Memorial Center (2023), high ranking Republika Srpska officials, members of the Serbian Parliament, as well as the President of Croatia, have been amongst the most public genocide deniers. As of 2023, not a single indictment has been filed on charges of genocide denial.

4.1.6 Disgust

The way local politicians use collective tragedy and manipulate victimhood for personal gain is cause for disgust. While being aware that Serb politicians consistently engage in genocide denial, Anastasija is also disgusted at Bosniak politicians, who view genocide memorials with political opportunism.

Anastasija::

I feel disgusted. I’ll tell you now…disgusted. I feel disgusted, disgusted by the hypocrisy in everything. In all segments. I feel disgusted that, in the end, there is absolutely no respect for all the victims of the war.

Disgust with SDA politicians’ attempts to capitalize, both politically and financially, on the pain of genocide victims is shared by non-Serb returnees. Alma is appalled at how individual Bosniak politicians and the SDA have benefitted from the collective tragedy of the Bosniak people, particularly from the Srebrenica genocide.

Alma::

Then, the whole things makes me feel disgusted, the politicization of so much pain makes me feel awful. As I see it, the SDA is manipulating with all of this and I simply do not understand how is it that a person, who I cannot really call a human being, like Bakir Izetbegović stands there and celebrates this genocide in Srebrenica, while missing every chance we had for a court case against Serbia at the Hague. So, on one hand he did nothing to improve our situation politically, while on the other side collecting personal points for this tragedy. As a citizen of this country, I feel disgusted and repulsed. I simply cannot understand how is it that somebody who has not done anything for the people of Srebrenica, how is it that that person can stand in front of those people expressing his condolences, telling them stories. I cannot understand. Is there no sense of ethics?

To analyze the Srebrenica commemorations Duijzings (2007) uses a framework initially developed by Timothy Ashplant, Graham Dawson and Michael Roper in their introduction to The Politics of War Memory and Commemoration (Ashplant, Dawson and Roper, 2000, p. 3–85 as cited in Duijzings, 2007, p. 144), in which there are two distinct levels of commemoration: political and psychological. The distinction is made “between commemorating from above (with elites engineering and orchestrating these processes mainly for political reasons) and from below (where the focus is on the subjective and psychological needs of individuals), and between hegemonic (publicly articulated) and sectional (marginalized, subordinated, suppressed and/or oppositional) narratives (Duijzings, 144). Following this framework, disgust felt by Alma and Anastasija is directed at the commemorating from above, representative of the “elite engineering and orchestrating these processes mainly for political reasons.”

4.1.7 Shame

The returnees feel shame from being treated as a victim. Ervin, a high-skilled IT professional with an established career in the U.S. with dual U.S. and BiH citizenship, feels embarrassed when assigned the role of a victim, solely based on his citizenship. He does not want to underplay or hide his BiH identity when in professional settings in the U.S., but also resents being placed in the powerless and denigrating victim role.

Ervin::

I also feel shame, but this depends on the circumstances. So, the shame appears here within our circumstance when faced with people from, let’s say, more developed, more civilized, more modern countries. That is when shame shows up. My anger is directed towards the local authorities, but when placed in contact with foreigners here or when I am abroad, I often feel ashamed, particularly in professional settings. Feeling as a victim and feeling ashamed go together. This is terribly frustrating to me and I keep fighting it. Bosnia has had this image of victimhood, refugees, and the pity one feels towards victims. To me, this is shameful and frustrating.

Mirela assists businesses from BiH in finding investors abroad and is often ashamed at the local business owners, mistaking a for-profit business incentive with charity or goodwill.

Author::

How do you feel when people ‘beg’ for donations?

Mirela::

Well, I feel physically violent towards them (laughter). That is how I feel. I am not saying that I would actually hurt them, but that is how I feel.

Author::

How do you feel as a BiH citizen in such a situation?

Mirela::

I definitely feel frustrated. I would like to hit this person, but I cannot…well, because you are not supposed to go around hitting people. So there you go. That is the feeling I have. It is a feeling of deep frustration.

Author::

In this situation, you are a BiH citizen and the person asking for a donation is also a BiH citizen, while the potential investor is German. How is it that you feel in that situation?

Mirela::

Well, I feel that he is embarrassing me. He is embarrassing me, because he is not representing me accurately. He takes away my credibility. He devalues me. Discredits me. I feel ashamed. Yes, shame is what I feel. I am ashamed of his ignorance, his powerlessness, and his complete lack of capability and competence. Those are all the things why I feel ashamed.

A certain “learned helplessness” has developed in post-war BiH, given the amount of international humanitarian aid BiH has received in the period 1995–2000, estimated at between 46 and 53 billion USD including military costs (Papić, 2001, p. 18), as well as postwar reconstruction assistance in the proximity of 1.03 billion EUR (725 million EUR in loans and 305 million EUR as grants) according to estimates made by the BiH Ministry of Finance (Maglajlic & Stubbs, 2018). The “dependency syndrome” (Petrisch, 1999) and the “victim philosophy” (Helms, 2013) cause the returnees to experience BiH citizenship through the emotion of shame.

The overall disfunction and resulting poverty in Bosnia and Herzegovina cause the returnees to feel shame. The shame returnees feel comes both from being citizens of one of Europe’s poorest countries and “Europe’s most complex state” (Džankić, 2015, p. 526). Salih is an internationally recognized painter with contacts from around the world and dual Italian citizenship, however, he associates shame with his experience of BiH citizenship.

Salih::

I had a guest from France. I had to hide some things from her. I didn’t want her to see the filth, the lack of hygiene everywhere. I was ashamed of all of it.

Author::

Did you feel ashamed?

Salih::

Yes. (very quietly)

Author::

Where does this shame come from?

Salih::

There is shame in all these elements. Shame of how many parliaments we have; of how divided we are; of how complicated and expensive our administration is. When I go to Marijin Dvor and look at that huge buildingFootnote 18–it looks as big as the UN palace. For this small country, there are so many offices, secretaries, cars…and then they cannot agree on anything. They can’t even hold regular sessions.

Author::

How does this make you feel?

Salih::

Shame. Shame is the only emotion I feel.

The shame felt by Salih is similar to the shame Maček (2007) observes with her interlocutors in wartime Sarajevo.

When talking about their situation Sarajevans would not only use the notion of ‘normal life’ but also express the shame they felt: because they could not invite me for a decent (normal) meal, because their homes were not as tidy as they wanted them to be, because they had lost their dignity by losing control over their lives and destinies (p. 43)

Shame noted by Maček (2007) in wartime circumstances and shame discussed by Salih in peacetime have different origins, but they share an important common characteristic–a sense of disempowerment because of citizens “losing control over their lives and destinies” (Maček, 2007, p. 43).

The constant reminders of past atrocities on one hand and the denial of these atrocities, together with the frequent glorification of their perpetrators, produce shame from what is perceived as “collective celebration of death.”

Ema::

I look at this subjectively, but it seems to me that we are proud of having killed each other. People around the world would be ashamed of such behavior, but we here….we celebrate killing and celebrate the dead, people who have killed while killing others. It doesn’t matter what their ethnicity might be. We are all Bosnians and we share the same culture, regardless of our religions. Now, you can see my gestures and my body language that I get consumed with rage when thinking about it. I feel a deep sense of shame that we celebrate the dead and the past. That is the emotion–shame. That is exactly it. I feel ashamed of Bosnia and Herzegovina and of our people. I am not ashamed of myself, because I know that I am on the right path and that I am trying to change something in this country, with my little project, which I hope will grow, God willing, inshallah (laughter).Footnote 19

Ema is ashamed of what she refers to as the “collective celebration of death,” combining both the political level of commemoration (Duijzings, 2007) and consistent denial accompanied by an active lionization of war criminals. Both of these lead to a question of whether constant reminders of wartime atrocities serve to assist or impede inter-ethnic reconciliation and societal recovery (see Karabegović, 2019).

4.1.8 Pity and Empathy

Pity and empathy constitute the returnees’ emotional citizenship in very different ways. While pity is cause for concern and frustration, empathy is deeply appreciated. Nervan and Amir have both spent considerable periods of their life studying, working and living in Turkey. While Nervan is annoyed and frustrated with being pitied as a Bosniak in Turkey, Amir appreciates the empathy his Turkish host family expressed towards him, particularly during wartime.

Nervan::

I became quite immune to such behavior in Turkey after a certain while, but in the very beginning I was very annoyed, very frustrated. When I first came to Turkey, I felt so happy, because I was convinced that I came to a friendly and brotherly country, whose people had brotherly affinities towards us. After some time passed, I remember thinking to myself: ‘who do these people think we are? The war had passed such a long time ago. I don’t even remember the war, but there [in Turkey] all the Bosniak are automatically seen through the war lens.’ I did not come here to be pitied. Actually, I really wanted to study in the West, but I won a scholarship to study architecture at a prestigious school in Istanbul and that is why I went to Turkey. I was so happy, because this was one of the best architecture schools.

Nervan’s frustration with being assigned the “victim role” in Turkey, corresponds to other returnees’ attitudes towards victimization as an impediment to progress. Like many other returnees, Nervan is aware that other BiH citizens have, unfortunately, embraced their own sense of victimization.

Nervan::

When I came to Turkey, I was viewed as a victim of war, someone to be pitied. I simply did not want that, but I noticed that some of the students from Bosnia did not have any problems with playing the victim role, because this is how they garnered attention. I did not want this type of attention. I wanted to be recognized for my hard work, talent, and other qualities.

The difference between being pitied and being empathized with is stark. Amir illustrates how the two differ, using mutual identification as the distinguishing characteristic.

Amir::

Yes, they pitied us, but it was more like they identified with us. We were children at the time and they look at us in the same way they regarded their own children. I mean, my Turkish friend’s mother behaved towards me as she did towards her own son. There was simply no difference. I mean, he and I even looked very much alike. He was also blonde and blue-eyed, like me. She would give him a hug and hug me right after. Anytime that there were any news from Bosnia on TV, she would start crying and she would hold me tight. I mean, this woman…she was like a second mother to me.

The stories of Nervan and Amir are both related to their experience of being a BiH citizen in Turkey, yet the emphasis in the first story is on a negative impression of pity, while the second one is a positive experience of empathy. The difference between pity and empathy is readily observable when contrasting these two stories, as both experiences relate to the same host state.

Experiencing citizenship through the pity of others is metaphorically compared either to being a “special needs child” or a perpetual “underdog.” In the case of “citizenship as feeling” being compared to having a disability, pity is internalized, resulting in its active rejection. Mahir explains what he means by internalizing pity, while simultaneously being pitied because of his citizenship status.

Mahir::

But, I mean, I feel like a special needs kid, as a person who has had some special and weird status all his life. Anytime I try to explain our political system to a foreigner or express my own experience of this country’s citizenship; discuss what my rights are; teach my younger sister or instruct my work colleagues to search for accountability and transparency…I always need to seek associations from history such as ‘you know how it was in your country in the 1960s or in your country in the eighteenth century…’ So this is a problem for me. I mean, focusing on this complicated and special weirdness, which I do not want to share is the problem. I am healthy, capable, young and prosperous. I want to live in a normal country with a normal passport with all the normal rights, like any other citizen. However, escaping the “special needs” impression doesn’t seem to be possible.

Author::

What exactly do you mean by “special needs”?

Mahir::

This is because we live in a non-standard country, which is neither a republic nor a federation. It is impossible to classify our country into a typology of states. Our political system is impossible to compare directly with any other. What this implies is that we are hybrid, part of an international protectorate, part of some other processes in which we have no decision-making authority.

Author::

You are now discussing our constitutional setup?

Mahir::

Well, I am discussing my experience of citizenship, as a person who derives his civil rights from this constitution, a constitution which champions ethnic, collective rights over the civic system. The entire description of our political system implies that it is something extraordinary and strange. Now, I would say that my particular emotions result from a deeper inner conflict. I would be very happy to identify a direct cause for having such feelings, such as ‘I feel in such-and-such a way because I am a citizen of a state in which genocide has been committed. I would like to say that these feelings are the result of crimes committed or victimization, however, the reality is much more complex. Thus, the feeling of “special needs.” To put it in the simplest terms, I would be much happier if I had some other citizenship.

While Mahir is resentful towards being pitied by others as a citizen of a non-standard state, Mirela externalizes her pity towards the state. She compares Bosnia and Herzegovina to the perpetual underdog going through a journey and ultimately attaining heroic status.

Mirela::

Aaa what I feel towards BiH, is like the feeling one has for an underdog. I feel as if BiH is the constant underdog. I am not exactly sure how to translate this word.Footnote 20 The underdog status is very emotional for me, because it offers the possibilities for the little underdog to make great results. I particularly feel that BiH is like the underdog because of everything that has happened during the war, from all our tragedies to our current state of complete corruption. But, then I also see those little stars, which create excellent results and make wonderful progress. These types of results could not have been created in a more regulated society. Supporting BiH, for me, is about being on the side of the underdog, the poor, the disadvantaged, the handicapped and the powerless. That is what I feel as a BiH citizen. I had this feeling throughout the war and then when the war finally ended; I had an incredible need to make a change. Yes, this is also out of pity, because I know that people here are on the verge of poverty with a 60% unemployment rate. This is a burden that I also bear, but I want to contribute to the betterment of my community. Yes, it is about pity. Because I could be working in google now for an absurd amount of money in New York, but that this is nothing to me compared to being side by side with the underdog. However, although the underdog evokes pity at the beginning of the story, the underdog is the ultimate hero of the story. The underdog’s starting point is one of disadvantage and handicap, evoking pity, but ending up victorious.

An extract of a speech (OHR, 1997) made to the North Atlantic Council by Carlos Westendorp, the former High Representative in BiH (1997–1999) could contextualize both a rejection of internalizing pity and active externalizing of pity towards BiH,

If I were a doctor, I would tell you that the Bosnian patient is alive / that he needs the life support machine less and less / but that he is still in intensive care / and that further intensive care is necessary. What I also know is that the patient wants this treatment and, providing that the medication is non-addictive, he will survive; the treatment is prescribed in the Dayton Peace Accords although what I cannot tell you is the duration of that treatment. I am not a doctor of course but I am the High Representative, and, therefore, as the individual charged with implementing those accords, I will give you my prognosis.

Viewing the state of Bosnia and Herzegovina as a patient in need of intensive care understandably invites pity. However, there is a considerable difference in the vantage point between being a citizen and a non-citizen of that state.

4.1.9 Sorrow

The returnees grieve over events from BiH’s recent past: being forced to leave the country because of war, finding refuge abroad, the pointlessness of war and mass killings and ultimately the deep sorrow of genocide. Damir left his native Sanski Most at eighteen to find refuge in Germany.

Damir::

I felt very, very sad. I cried. I cried all the way from Sanski Most to Banja Luka, from Banja Luka to Belgrade. When we landed in Belgrade, I finally stopped crying, because I saw nothing will come out of all that and that I had to come to my senses. I felt horrible, leaving my parents and my home at 18 years of age. I felt horrible, particularly because I knew that the war was approaching. Difficult times were ahead. It was very, very difficult for me. I can easily say that this was crushing. Those were very sad times. As I told you before, the population in Sanski Most was very mixed and the war was fought between the Serbs and Bosniaks. I felt very, very bad that my old friend Goran would not be my friend anymore.

Amir was expelled together with his family from Prijedor. His father was killed by Bosnian Serb forces and Amir was separated from his mother and brother. At the age of 15, he was completely alone, finding safety in Turkey.

Amir::

I felt horrible, horrible. How else could I feel? There was shooting everywhere, shooting everywhere. How could I have felt not even being able to talk to my parents or see them or anything. There were eight boys from Bosnia and countless times we would just each lock in our room and cry for hours. What else could we do? We didn’t speak the language. We didn’t know anything. We didn’t know anybody. We felt completely lost and disconnected.

Anastasija, who escaped warfare in Mostar to find safety in Serbia, feels the grief of all ethnicities in Bosnia and Herzegovina caused by the overall tragedy of war.

Anastasija::

It is completely pointless, pointless. What did we fight for? For absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. Excuse me, what do those people do protesting in front of the Parliament? What are those tents for? They were set up by former soldiers who fought and bled for the peace we have today. Now, what do they have? They can’t even survive. They have nothing to eat.

Badema is a young Bosniak woman living in Srebrenica, for whom the deepest sorrow of genocide constitutes her emotional dimension of BiH citizenship.

Badema::

Aaaa, I was born after the war so that whenever this July 11 comes around, when this day dawns, I mean I have not experienced the war, so that I can’t speak from my own experience. Each person experiences this collective funeral in his or her own way. For me, when the coffins pass by me I feel chills run through my bones, tears rolling down my cheeks. I don’t know, then I look at the valley of white gravestones, listening to the deadening silence…a feeling of overwhelming sadness overpowers me.

In addition to direct losses suffered during the war, the tragedy of lost opportunity is a source of sadness to many of the study participants, whether they were in BiH during the war or not. Hrvoje spent the entire war in besieged Sarajevo and laments at the loss incurred by his entire generation.

Hrvoje::

The first emotion experienced is one of great tragedy. We know about all the tragic events that occurred in our region. All of us, who spent the war here are in one respect tragic figures. This is particularly true for people my age, let’s say those who were born between 1965 and 1970. These are people who were caught in war when they could have given their maximum potential. They got stuck in a ghetto and lost four or 5 years of their lives, losing the best years of their lives. While we were devastated here, others were developing, putting us in a position of never being able to catch up. We will never be able to attain the EU level of development.

Adnan’s family and friends were in Zenica during the war. Due to a set of circumstances directly prior to the beginning of the war, he managed to escape to Turkey. Adnan is well aware of how the wartime years affected his loved ones and discusses his sadness at the lost opportunities of their lives.

Adnan::

I felt so sorry for the people I love, sorry for my friends, who did not have an opportunity to leave, those who stayed. I feel sorry because they spent the best years of their lives fighting for something and now they have entered an age when there are no more opportunities. So many doors opened for me and when I talk to my friends, I can see the difference between us. The difference is immense. There is a difference in the way of thinking, attitudes towards life and all these things. I probably would be exactly like them if I had spent the last 20 years of my life here.

In addition to sadness felt towards events from BiH’s recent history, the returnees express their sorrow at the current situation.

The postwar reality, the present state of BiH carries grief and sadness for most of BiH’s citizens. The returnees discuss their sadness of a dysfunctional peace, not allowing Bosnia and Herzegovina to have a more prosperous present and future. Reuf talks about the general mood in BiH being “broken.”

Reuf::

When I look at the situation and the, the outcome of the war, at what happened in the war it all looks negative, negative, negative. You know what I mean? When I first came here I was like wow, why doesn’t someone do that? Why doesn’t someone do that? Every single person kept saying the same thing to me. Really short answers like it’s impossible. You can’t do it. It can’t be done in Bosnia. That was when I first came: It was always like these, these guys they are close-minded. They are held back. They are stuck. I feel like Bosnians generally are broken people. Broken. Coming from Australia that makes me feel really sad, because I see the potential of the people. The corruption works hand in hand with all of that. I mean, the system here, the system does not work. It just doesn’t work.

Senad discusses the sadness of an inefficient and expensive state lacking economic progress, which results in a continuous stream of young and talented people emigrating.

Senad::

Aaam, I mainly feel sadness, sadness because people accepted to be much less than their actual potential. Much less than what they used to be before. I feel sad because we accepted to be a third-rate country in the region, that we are practically a colony of neighboring states, a protectorate. I simply feel sad that people do not have a bit more pride. I am not referring to patriotic pride, but to their own personal pride. Why is that they do not stand up and say ‘I think that we really could do things much better.’ Sadness, that is my dominant emotion.

Sorrow and sadness as constituting the emotional dimension of BiH citizenship is discussed regarding both BiH’s past and present, leading to a pessimistic outlook for the future.

4.1.10 Disappointment

From the initial enthusiasm characterizing the experience of return, when confronted with the political and economic realities of life in BiH, the emotional response to BiH citizenship often turns to disappointment. Disappointment is present both in cases of majority and minority return. Ervin, ethnically Bosniak, who came back to Sarajevo from the U.S. with great expectations for progress in the IT sector, expresses his disappointment in irresponsible politicians, who he sees as one of the greatest obstacles to any progress in the country.

Ervin::

Well, I feel disappointed mostly by certain candidates, who had historical chances to transform the country. They did not use these opportunities and instead; they fell into the traps of self-aggrandizement and egocentrism, with no understanding of how to create prosperity for everybody, for all of society. No, they were not thinking about the people, the nation, or the country. They were only thinking about their own narrow, individual interest.

Nusret, a Bosniak who returned to his native Prijedor, now in the RS, experiences all the challenges of minority return and expresses his disappointment at the lack of support provided to him and others like him by Bosniak politicians, seated in Sarajevo.

Author::

You are far from administrative Sarajevo and how does this make you feel?

Nusret::

Nothing. Disappointed. Forgotten and neglected. I used to believe that with relatively low investment, so much could be done for returnees. So much more could have been done, but not with these politicians, who only care about themselves and nobody else. I simply don’t see anybody in real life, who managed to convince me that they care about the ordinary citizen. They only work for their own private interests and nothing else.

In addition, and regardless of majority or minority return status, returnees are disappointed in the BiH business environment.

Ema::

As far as the business side is concerned, anytime I think of my BiH citizenship, I feel frustration and aggressiveness, a sort of disillusionment, partly a loss of hope. I used to have high hopes regarding the business side. I thought it would be much easier, more logical and according to some European standards. That was not the case, and it was and still is a daily struggle of disappointment.

Experiencing the home state citizenship through disappointment upon return is not unique to Bosnia and Herzegovina. In fact, return migration literature has extensively studied how disappointment sets in once the returnees are confronted with realities of life in a variety of different home states. As early as Bovenkerk (1974), disappointment has been studied because of idealizing the home state during times of emigration, which turns out not to correspond to the realities of life there. Bovenkerk (1974) also surveys other studies confirming disappointment inherent in return migration, such as Nelli (1970), who looks at Italians returning from the U.S., Saloutos (1956) studies Greeks returnees and Dahaya (1973), who examines disappointment felt by Pakistanis returning from Britain. More recently, King & Christou (2009) explore second-generation Greeks returning from Germany and the U.S., and their disappointment caused by the corruption, chaos, and xenophobia they encounter upon their return to Greece.

4.1.11 Powerlessness

As citizens of Bosnia and Herzegovina, the returnees often feel helpless, and powerless to affect change. For Emir, powerlessness is rooted in a deeply unjust peace and a dysfunctional state as its end product.

Emir::

I feel much more powerless now than I did during the war. During the war, it was different, there was a sense of common struggle. Now, the powerlessness is ingrained in all pores of society. During the war, I was in Sarajevo in the BH Army, in an army unit which was attached to several different army divisions. So, I was in Sarajevo and outside of Sarajevo.

Author::

And you feel more powerless today?

Emir::

Yes, yes! The powerlessness is now squeezed in all pores of life, pushing people in frames from which they won’t revolt even if they are extremely dissatisfied, simply because they fear losing their jobs. I see melancholy everywhere I turn, among my friends or better say acquaintances, because they simply cannot see a solution in sight. During the war, at least there was some sort of solution. The solution was to end it, this way or that. Ending the war was the solution.

Author::

And now?

Emir::

Now, I feel as part of a comedy program and a hostage experiment. As I told you in the beginning, we are hostages of an experiment somebody is conducting on us. It doesn’t matter that this type of thinking falls into conspiracy theories… Here you can simply see that everything was created to be dysfunctional, set up to fail. Most things are set up that way, perhaps not all. Most things here were designed to be dysfunctional.

Hrvoje adds pessimism to the possibilities of democratic change and his feeling of powerlessness extends to citizenship practices such as voting.

Author::

How do you feel when voting in elections?

Hrvoje::

Completely helpless. Well, I feel this way because I know my vote cannot change anything.

The phrase “post-Dayton straightjacket” is often used to refer to the BiH Constitutional setup, both in scholarly discourse (see for example, Donais, 2005; Keil & Perry, 2015; Deiana, 2018; Perry, 2019) and the general media. In fact, “the straightjacket” has become a “popular metaphor” (Keil & Perry, 2015) for the “frozen conflict” (Perry, 2019), leaving individual BiH citizens, including the returnees, feeling entirely powerless. In Gender and Citizenship: Promises of Peace in Post-war Bosnia and Herzegovina, Deiana (2018) summarizes:

The perversity of the post-Dayton aftereffects, however, does not stop at the institutional level…Ethnicity is continuously mobilized in many aspects of political and social life such as housing segregation and voting, as well as culture, written and spoken language and education. Further to this, the post-Dayton straightjacket has worked to preserve ethno-national discourses within the politics of BiH. It enforces a highly divisive political life. Dominant nationalist parties continue to mobilize the legacy of conflict and the negative constructions of the “Ethnic Other” to ensure support for nationalist politics (p. 10).

Thus, the overwhelming feeling of powerlessness is experienced by the individual citizen, when the citizen views him or herself as an autonomous individual within a citizenship regime designed for ethnic collectivities of “us” versus “them,” in what seems to be a “frozen, stuck, stalled or just muddling through” (Perry, 2019) state of affairs.

The powerlessness felt by returnees is compounded by a sense of humiliation as part of the emotional dimension of BiH citizenship. Alma describes experiences of mistreatment when travelling with her BiH passport.

Alma::

Well, in the first couple of years after the war ended, we were definitely maltreated. We had to go to every embassy to apply for visas; stand in line for two-three hours.

Author::

How did this make you feel?

Alma::

Extremely humiliated. For example, at the border crossing. My husband would show his Slovenian passport and the border guards wouldn’t even give him a second look. I would hand them my Bosnian passport and they would make me open each piece of luggage. Humiliated, definitely humiliated. That is how I felt.

To avoid feeling humiliated at the border crossing, Emir, a dual BiH, and Slovenian citizen, prefers using his host state passport.

Author::

Could you tell me why you avoid travelling with the BiH passport?

Emir::

Because I do not want to be mistreated. For example, when travelling by bus, I don’t want to be asked to leave the bus so that they can hold me for “further questioning.” I just want to be that happy guy, smiling and waving a big “hello” at the border patrol, as any other normal citizen.

Author::

How does the mistreatment make you feel?

Emir::

It makes me feel like a dog, or second-rate, if we want to use more modern terms. I don’t know how else to describe it. I get humiliated simply because of my passport. Actually, I don’t get to experience those feelings, because I don’t travel with the BiH passport at all. Anytime I used it in the past, I felt humiliated and second-rate, as a hostage of the state. I think that we, citizens of BiH, would not have any problems if our state were different, if it were serious. Since our state is not serious, we can even say it’s comical, we suffer as a result.

Related to powerlessness are the feelings of mistreatment and humiliation as BiH citizens, particularly pronounced as part of citizenship practices such as border crossings, or previously while standing in visa queues. The experiences described by Emir and Alma confirm and extend the findings of Jansen (2009), who looks at cross-border mobility and “zones of humiliating entrapment through documentary requirements–experienced by citizens of Bosnia and Herzegovina and Serbia–as the EU’s shrinking ‘immediate outside’ (p. 815). As Jansen (2009) points out, citizenship allows or disallows “bodies” (p. 815) to have cross-border mobility, producing various forms of affect. Specific to the case of BiH, particularly prior to the visa relaxation, what Jansen (2009) finds is a dominant “atmosphere of entrapment” (p. 820) and a “sense of collective humiliation” (p.827) felt by BiH passport holders, particularly when contrasted to the freedom of movement once granted to holders of the “red,” Yugoslav passport. Similarly to other authors (Maksimović, 2017; Palmberger, 2013b), Jansen (2009) refers to this type of Yugonostalgia as more of a yearning for “normal life, ” (p. 827) perceived to have been free from the current entrapment and humiliation.

4.1.12 Nostalgia

Nostalgia towards the past and Yugoslavia is expressed as a longing for a state and the security it provided. Although Mensura is not old enough to have lived experience of Yugoslavia, when I asked about the stories her parents told her about the former state, her response succinctly echoed similar views, communicating a yearning for law and order.

Mensura::

Well, everybody says that everything was much better [in Yugoslavia], that the country was much better organized than what we have today. There was more respect for the laws, law enforcement, and state institutions, all of what we talked about earlier. We lack all of that today.

It is common parlance to discuss the Yugoslav past as a time when “you could not say whatever you wanted, but you could sleep safely on a park bench, wherever you wanted”–a saying summarizing the lack of freedom of expression in Yugoslavia together with a strong emphasis on security. In addition, the declared values of the Yugoslav Communist regime, such as equality and solidarity, are the causes of nostalgia.

Anastasija::

And this, this BiH citizenship thing. It doesn’t mean absolutely anything to me, because I always was and will remain a Yugoslav. That has always been my identification and the only country which I consider to be my own. That is the only flag [the Yugoslav flag] which I consider to be mine and with which I can identify. Whatever people might say about communism and Tito today, about what things used to be like in the past….the only thing that matters for me is the solidarity we used to have. We used to treasure our peace, freedom, brotherhood, and unity. These are the values that shaped me and I will never give them up.

The phenomenon of yearning for a return to the stability of the communist past, characterized by “law and order and steady incomes” (Kolstø, 2014, p. 761), can be found in other places, such as successor states of the former Soviet Union and countries of Central and Eastern Europe (see Boym, 2001). In the Yugoslav case, the phenomenon is of a proportion to merit its own term: Yugonostalgia, politicallyFootnote 21 defined as a “continued attachment to the SFRY as a state” (Kolstø, 2014, p. 763).

Whether real or imagined ethnic tolerance, present in Yugoslavia is a subject of nostalgic longing among returnees of different ethnicities. Elvis, a Bosniak from Prijedor, who was expelled from his home together with other non-Serbs in 1992, reminisces about how people of different ethnicities related during Yugoslav times.

Elvis:

Well, in the past there was so much love for friendship, for people, towards the city, the country. Everybody was concerned with actively contributing towards the betterment of the community. It wasn’t important whether your name was SašaFootnote 22 or Mehmed. Those differencesFootnote 23 were completely unimportant. I miss all that very much. I miss all of it!

Author:

Do you think that this sense of community could be re-created in Prijedor?

Elvis:

Sometime in the future, perhaps. But, it cannot be done in Prijedor. No, simply because the people are gone. If the former citizens of Prijedor stayed, if what happened hadn’t happened, it probably would be possible. 70% of the current inhabitants of Prijedor came from outside the city. These are uneducated people with no sense of how we used to live here. With these people, there is no going back to how things used to be.

Alma, who declares herself primarily as a BiH citizen, rejecting ethnic categories, is nostalgic for the values of “brotherhood and unity” among peoples in Yugoslavia and connects these to Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Alma::

Well, my generation…we identified with Yugoslavia. When I was growing up, we did not identify with Bosnia and Herzegovina. This was present everywhere really, perhaps most visibly in school. For example, in our singing of the national anthem, Tito’s portrait in each classroom, using Tito’s quotes all the time, such as ‘protect our brotherhood and unity as the apple of your eye’ and such things. There was also the celebration of Tito’s birthday and our traditional relay races. With the dismantling of Yugoslavia, I understood that all these values for me actually meant an identification with Bosnia and Herzegovina. All the Yugoslav values of multiculturalism and living with people who differ from yourself. We in BiH lived these values more than anybody else in the former Yugoslavia, more than the Slovenes, the Serbians or the people in Dalmatia. At one point, I understood that what I loved most about the former Yugoslavia was being destroyed.

The “Yugoslav civil religion of brotherhood and unity” (Perica, 2002; Bošković, 2013; Flere, 2007) with the stated goal of designing Yugoslavism as a supraethnic and suprareligious identity (Bošković, 2013), was arguably most ardently practiced in Bosnia and Herzegovina out of all other ex-Yugoslav states. Ironically, this is where its failures were most catastrophic.Footnote 24 However, it would not be fair to conclude that the returnees, when discussing a longing for Yugoslav ethnic tolerance, are in denial of its ultimate demise. Instead, a more balanced interpretation would be consistent to the findings of Hofman (2008), who concludes that Yugonostalgia in BiH, at least regarding its “brotherhood and unity” dimension, appears simply in response to the unbearable ethnic tensions of present-day Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Returnees are also nostalgic for the economic system of the former Yugoslavia with its main emphasis on social security. Siniša, who recalls the stories told by his parents, discusses the developed social safety net in Yugoslavia and the feeling of economic security it created.

Siniša:

While we were in Argentina, my parents, and others always used to say that we were Yugoslavs. Nobody talked about Serbs or Croats or something else. Everybody [in Argentina] knew about all of us as Yugoslavs and it was the most normal thing for us to say that we are Yugoslavs. I would say that most people who experienced living in Yugoslavia are nostalgic for those times and for socialism. They used to get their apartment from the state, paid leave and a completely fantastic system. I mean, I cannot speak from experience because I did not live in Yugoslavia. My parents were also emigrants from Yugoslavia, but they always had a strong sense of belonging to the Serb people, the Orthodox Church, and so on. They always looked upon Yugoslavia as something positive. They were born in this state and its economic system. The country was unified and they could easily travel from one area to the next.

The Yugoslav legal, political and economic systems created an overwhelming sense of security, particularly as compared to the state of these affairs in the current makeup of BiH. However, perhaps most importantly, the overall values of solidarity, ethnic tolerance, contribution to the common good are what brought about a feeling of security. Vedad emphasizes taking pride in aiding community development in Yugoslavia.

Vedad::

I wouldn’t exactly call this Yugonostalgia, but I remember my childhood and, from the perspective of a child, I remember a different system that took care of everybody, including children and young people. I remember the Youth Labor Action, which promoted completely different values from the ones we seem to have today. In the past, as a young person, you needed to apply to take part in the Youth Labor Action. If you deserved your place, you would be admitted and allowed to dig and build as a volunteer. Nowadays, the idea would be laughable to any young person. They would say something like: ‘what are you talking about? I won’t be digging or building for nobody! For free? Are you joking???’ Many things have changed about our values and mentality. Young people used to take pride in helping their communities and contributing to the public good.

Hrvoje is nostalgic for the quality of friendships in Yugoslavia and sees an ideological explanation for the difference he perceives in current times.

Hrvoje::

I would say that the most valuable aspect of Yugoslavia were the human bonds we used to have, our excellent human relations. I mean, we could say that we had freedom of movement that simply does not exist today. In Yugoslavia you could not talk about whatever you wanted, but you could sleep under any tree or on any bench. At some point during your sleep, somebody might come to wake you up to see how you are doing or to offer you something to eat and drink. This is certainly not the case now. Today, you can say whatever you like, but your freedom of movement is limited. There is no freedom of movement that we used to have. The aspect of human friendships and a safe environment is missing. Perhaps, that was also imposed through the political system, however, I was young at the time and I simply did not think about such things. Yes, I was young at the time. This is also nostalgia for youth. That is also an important point.

As Hofman (2008) introduces and Kolstø (2014) re-asserts, political Yugonostalgia can be viewed as having two distinct strands: ideological and territorial. Territorially, Yugonostalgia is a simple longing for a larger state, where the new states are seen as small or “petty” (Jansen, 2009) with the resulting freedom of movement being restricted, such as pointed out by Hrvoje. Ideologically, Yugonostalgia is a longing for a Titoist version of Marxism as a guiding social philosophy, with the accompanying socialist self-management as an economic system. Although, there are certainly elements of both territorial and ideological Yugonostalgia in views expressed by the returnees, I would also have to agree with Maksimović (2017), who terms this type of Yugonostalgia as “normalostalgia” or a longing for a “normal life” (p. 1071), characterized by socioeconomic security, as well as ethnic tolerance (Palmberger, 2013b).

A noticeable lack of Yugonostalgia is present with some returnees, because of the former state’s relations with religious communities and memories of persecution on religious grounds. Gavrilo, who discussed the importance his Orthodox Christian faith has in his daily life, says that he is not nostalgic for Yugoslav times, mainly because of the atheistic or anti-theisticFootnote 25 aspects of communist ideology.

Gavrilo::

I am not nostalgic at all. I’ll tell you one thing. If that country had been so well organized, it would not have failed. It was very badly setup, relations between people were very poorly developed. There was so much laziness, red tape, and the greatest tragedy of all–communism, a disaster worse than any wildfire. It set us back at least 40 years, perhaps even 50, it devastated all the people living here.

Author::

So, you only see problems with communism?

Gavrilo::

Only within communism! This system firstly destroyed all the morals of people. People became disbelievers, atheists, not believing in anything, ready to do anything. If people were true believers, the war probably would have never happened. There was nothing good about it. Absolutely nothing. Trust me.

Author::

Not even the ideals of brotherhood and unity?

Gavrilo::

Oh, please what are you talking about?! If this brotherhood and unity were real and true, would we have slaughtered each other like animals [during the war]?!

Mehmed, a practicing Muslim, expresses similar views towards Yugoslavia, based on his family stories of persecution.

Mehmed::

I am definitely not Yugonostalgic. I come from a family with Islamic values, so this is how I was brought up from early childhood. I heard stories about the Yugoslav times, for example when our house was searched by the authorities simply because my grandfather performed the Hajj.

Author::

Could you explain how this happened?

Mehmed::

Well, my grandfather went on the Hajj and after he returned, his passport was seized and our house was searched. The explanation given to my family at the time was that the Yugoslav authorities were suspicious that he was involved in some kind of activities. My grandfather was also an active member of the Islamic community and I can honestly say that he was mistreated because of that. He was arrested and spent time in prison for nothing else but his religious beliefs and practice. So, I definitely don’t have any Yugonostalgia.

Looking at Yugoslav history, it can be said that the Communist authorities, particularly after Yugoslavia was expelled from the Cominform, acted vigilantly to suppress religious expression (Malcolm, 1994). The Yugoslav state had a distinctly anti-theist stance and viewed the major religious traditions (Islam, Orthodox Christianity and Roman Catholicism) as divisive and undermining “brotherhood and unity” (Flere, 2007). However, the question of exactly how free were Yugoslav citizens to practice their various religions is a subject of some controversy. The Yugonostalgics are likely to focus on some semblance of religious freedom granted to practicing religious traditions, particularly in private, while the anti-YugonostalgicsFootnote 26 tend to overstate the degree of direct and indirect persecution of religious communities. Albeit important, the historical context cannot overshadow the respondents’ subjective experience. Gavrilo’s and Mehmed’s personal stories speak of discrimination on religious grounds, which makes them have no longing for the Yugoslav state.

4.1.13 Patriotic Love

At first glance, it can be confusing to examine the notion of “patriotic love” in the context of Bosnia and Herzegovina, a post-conflict and deeply divided society, and the returnees, most of whom are dual and in some cases triple citizens. To clarify the apparent confusion, I have tried to introduce some distinct forms of patriotic love as a result of data analysis: divided or split, unreserved, “hurt,” conditional/tempered, as well as viewing patriotism as the founding block of democratic state-building.

In some cases, the returnees’ patriotic feelings are divided or split between two or more states. Admir, a dual BiH and U.S. citizen, while considering his primary emotional attachment to lie with the BiH citizenship, also acknowledges some patriotic love for his host state.

Admir::

I have spent 10 years in the US, which was a really wonderful period of my life. There, I made so many friends and fell in love with the city of Chicago. I lived in Chicago for 10 years and I miss so many things. I am a big fan of the Chicago Bulls and I have all kinds of other connections with this city. I would say some patriotic love as well. I mean, my primary feelings are towards the citizenship of my birth [BiH citizenship] and if I had to, it would be very difficult for me to renounce it, to renounce our citizenship.

The case of divided or split patriotism becomes more complicated when it is directed towards a kin-state, such as Serbia or Croatia. While being emotionally indifferent to the BiH citizenship, primarily attached to his home state citizenship of Argentina, Siniša also feels patriotically inclined towards his third, Serbian citizenship.

Siniša::

Whenever I go to Serbia, I always have the same experience. For example, when driving through Šumadija, I don’t know whether you ever had the chance to visit, but the people there are so hospitable, open and just so cheerful. One can sense a connection with the medieval state, the monasteries and all the cultural heritage. These are certainly highly positive emotions, because, I mean, we are talking about the history of our people. As a Serb, I feel that our roots are there in that medieval heritage, before the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian invasions or any other foreign powers occupying these territories. I feel connected through Serbia’s sovereignty. I feel connected to Serbia’s sovereignty and statehood when visiting all the old monasteries and the cultural heritage which has been preserved.

Within the range of patriotic love, a few of the participants express an unconditional, unreserved patriotism. Gavrilo, an ethnic Serb from Nevesinje, expresses his love for Bosnia and Herzegovina, particularly its natural landscape.

Gavrilo::

I don’t know what to tell you, but I love this country extremely. There are so many things we can’t change, but we still need to hope for the best. If we have any intelligence, we will understand that we need to live together. If we are smart we will live like normal people. I have no plans to leave this country. I don’t want any of my family members or anybody else to leave either. This is especially true for anybody who loves hiking and mountaineering. Just walk around our mountains and you will see how beautiful our country really is. The only problem is that we do not appreciate it.

Arif, ethnically Bosniak, expresses his love for the country and readiness to defend it in case of renewed conflict.

Arif::

At any mention of Bosnia and Herzegovina disappearing, I am instantaneously prepared to stand in its defense. I am ready to leave all this (gesturing at the office and out the window towards the dairy farm) and, if need be, take to guns in its defense. I left for Norway only after finishing my work here, work which was necessary here. After being released from the camps, I joined the BiH Army and demobilized after the war ended. It is only after serving my duty that I re-united with my family in Norway. I also served my duty, testifying at the Court in the Hague and collecting the documentation on wartime happenings in Kozarac. I spent 6 or 7 years in Norway; started successful companies there and returned to Bosnia again. All this means only one thing—there is no force, other than an act of the Almighty, that could tear the bond between myself and the homeland. I also have an obligation to leave a homeland for my children. Can I wait in Norway for somebody else to do this for my children instead of me? No, I need to make my contribution right here.

Several returnees report their patriotic feelings being hurt in postwar Bosnia and Herzegovina. Regardless of the difficulties imposed on BiH citizens by the current Dayton constitutional setup, Mahir feels it to be his duty to respect and love his home state. He uses a familial analogy to explain his patriotic love for BiH.

Author::

How do you feel when you see the BiH flag or hear the national anthem?

Mahir::

I think I have a duty to respect and love these things. It’s actually more respect that I feel, the way you feel about a grandfather, who wasn’t exactly nice towards you. He loved some other grandchildren more than he loved you, but he is still your grandfather and you love and respect him. Still, he is not your favorite person in the world. That would be the best association I could find. It comes because of the respect I feel towards my father or my uncle, who died because of the war or were killed. These people used to believe that the survival of this state is important, that resisting assimilation is important. Simply, this was their vision and I feel it to be disrespectful for the next generation to abandon this vision. Their sacrifice is the reason I can live in a free country now, in my apartment, in my old neighborhood. We need to make our own contribution.

Vedad also uses a familial analogy to discuss the necessity of loving one’s country. Similarly to Mahir, he is aware of the difficulties associated with BiH citizenship, but he also focuses on the importance of each BiH citizen taking an active part in improving this situation.

Vedad::

The problem is that the struggle of people has been altered into a slide to what is more comfortable. For example, students in the past used to fight for their rights. They were brave, and they took part in protests to secure a better future for their country. Nowadays, young people say things like ‘look at how worn out the streets are here, I have to leave his country.’ To me, this is surrender, giving up. I choose to take a different path. I want to contribute so that things improve. I am not going to give up on my mother just because she slapped me. She is still my mother. Even if she makes me happy or sad, she is still my mother and I love her.

Due to the frequent abuse of patriotic feelings, the participants are quick to point out that true patriotic love is viewed through action. Senad, an opposition politician, criticizes the local power elites whose representatives consistently call on values of patriotism with only their own interests in mind and not their communities’.

Senad::

Since we have a severe lack of education in this country, the ruling elites create a sense of baseless national pride. What we need is patriotism expressed towards the local community.

Author::

What would you say is the dominant emotion in this case?

Senad::

The dominant emotion is taking pride in living in a clean city with high economic standards. Living in a city where people visit and say: ‘Wow, you really live in a beautiful place. Everything is so nicely organized. You prove that such a life is possible.’ That is what I mean by local patriotism. I would not connect patriotism to the passport, flag or other national symbols. I would connect it to the community in which the person lives and works.

To avoid being labeled either the “naïve patriot” or the “exploitative patriot,” the returnees often discuss a conditional or tempered patriotism.

Admir::

First of all, I am not too patriotic, as I have a simple goal of living a normal life in this country. I was born here and, of course I have some patriotic feelings. I was so happy when we went to the World Soccer Cup. Our success in sports or music events makes me very happy, but, above all, I am interested in having the complete conditions for a normal life in my country.

Finally, the returnees consistently bring to the fore the importance of an active and engaged citizenry, viewing their contribution as citizens to be the founding block of state and democracy building.

Arif::

Let’s ask a different question: ‘Did Norway as a homeland give to the Norwegian people all of what they have today in 1945 or did the Norwegian people build their country; created an equitable distribution; made laws; destroyed bribery and corruption; developed a society of equal opportunity?’ The Norwegian people produced all of this through their voting and constant pressure. They created a fantastic political system and a Constitution, which says that all citizens are equal in front of the law, including the king. Nobody is above the law. The question we have now is whether the people of Bosnia and Herzegovina want to make something similar to Norway? We will probably never have a Norway here, but let’s say that we want Bosnia and Herzegovina as an average Western European country, where we could afford social welfare, pension funds and migration policy that would provide an incentive for people to stay here and improve our demographics. Our situation is such that the Muslims are awaiting Allah to do all this work instead of them, while the Catholics and Orthodox are waiting for the Almighty God. Is God responsible for an assignment given to the citizens of Bosnia and Herzegovina, including you writing this Ph.D. thesis [now monograph]? Can we build a better and more prosperous BiH? What do you think? I think that we certainly can!

The final perspective on patriotic love as key to democratic politics echoes the original work connecting citizenship and emotions, George Marcus’ The Sentimental Citizen: Emotion in Democratic Politics (2002). The main premise of the “citizenship as feeling” idea formulated by Marcus is that citizens are capable of being “good” because they can feel. Patriotic love, with all its flaws and imperfections, seems to be the major catalyst in this process.

4.1.14 Pride

The professional successes of fellow compatriots are the sources of pride for many of the returnees. Admir takes pride in the success of individual BiH citizens, such as the soccer player, Edin Džeko.

Admir::

Of course, I am really happy when a local band makes it internationally. Dubioza Kolektiv is an international musical success. They are a wonderful group of musicians for such a small country, where there are no investments made in art and culture. Regardless of their difficulties, they found a path to world fame. I feel proud of their success. Of course, there are other examples from sports, such as Edin Džeko, who used to play in our soccer league and went on to international stardom. These people are the most important promoters and cultural ambassadors for our country. I mean, we have so few positive examples here that their successes need to be talked about. In my opinion, they are very important for all of us.

While taking pride in their success, Senad also laments the fact that these successful people no longer reside in BiH.

Senad::

Our social fabric has been destroyed as the best and brightest left this country. We lost our human resources. These people have been replaced with those who I would, without meaning to be a snob, I would describe as second-rate. Professionals from Bosnia and Herzegovina have made it in Europe and all over. One of our people, a talented engineer became the general manager of the Austrian Telecom. This actually happened. Another example is a person who used to work at our Youth radio station. He is now one of the most important marketing experts in North America. We gave all our human resources to foreign corporations. We lost huge numbers of people like that from all parts of our country. Their successes abroad could make all of us proud. We share the same citizenship.

Returnees also find pride in the experience of collective suffering. Lejla, who works on trauma release techniques with victims of post-traumatic stress syndrome views survival and perseverance as a source of great pride.

Lejla::

For me, what ties me most to Bosnia is certainly not our cuisine of burek and čevapčići. I don’t even eat meat. I am a vegetarian and could not care less about these dishes. My most important connection to citizenship is our common struggle and our shared, tragic experience. We need to be proud of ourselves for going through hell and still surviving, succeeding and continuing to exist. We need to be proud of that.

Nusret, a Bosniak returnee to Prijedor in Republika Srpska, views return to a place from which he was once forcibly expelled as the reason for his pride.

Nusret::

Pride. I certainly feel proud. This is what gives me added motivation to carry on, regardless of all the problem we encounter daily. I feel proud to be Bosnian, to have gone through all this and to have survived. In spite of everything, we collected ourselves and we continue to live here, to feel equal with everybody else inhabiting this region.

Perspectives offered by Admir, Lejla and Nusret illustrate how pride constitutes the emotional dimension of BiH citizenship through either the examples of individual successes of BiH citizens or the experience of collective survival.

The returnees, particularly in the case of minority return of Bosniaks to Republika Srpska, find pride in state symbols and the state, as guarantor of national survival.

Selim::

It is normal for the BiH flag, particularly if you see it somewhere abroad, to stir positive emotions. These are highly positive emotions. Pride, pride, because in spite of everything that has happened, Bosnia and Herzegovina survived and it continues to exist. In whatever shape or form, it still exists within its borders. I can say with pride that I am a Bosnianherzegovinian and that I have a homeland.

Similarly, many of the returnees take pride in civic belonging and being distinct from the three, clearly defined ethnic or religious groups.

Sanela::

I am definitely proud to be a citizen of Bosnia and Herzegovina. I belong to this country, as its citizen. This connection is much more important to me than religion or ethnicity. Although, I feel under pressure to align myself with a religious and ethnic group, still my main identification is with the state of BiH. My parents raised me to be proud of our country. We never felt ashamed of our home country, of our origin. We always proudly spoke of being citizens of BiH.

As Džankić (2016) emphasizes, supported by findings of the IPSOS Survey (2011), loyalty to the state of BiH is most pronounced with ethnic Bosniaks, also the only ethnicity to be ‘very proud’ with their BiH citizenship. On the other hand, the majority of Serbs and Croats either feel ‘somewhat proud’ or ‘not proud at all’ as BiH citizens. Responses of Selim and Sanela are also consistent with the IPSOS Survey (2011) results, while not even one returnee who self-identified as Serb or Croat directly expressed pride in being a BiH citizen.

4.1.15 Defiance

The famous bosanski inat (Bosnian defiance/spite) has deep historical roots, acting as what Amila Buturović refers to as “a cultural catalyst against liminality,” when discussing passages from Meša Selimović’s novel The Death and the Dervish. Buturović analyzes “spite and defiance” as “liminality transformed into a metaphorical struggle for collective identity, not acting as complicit in internal divisions” (Buturović, 2009, p.46) In other words, it is out of spite and defiance in Bosnia and Herzegovina that seemingly impossible to sustain notions continue to survive. Amir, whose father was murdered by Bosnian Serb forces during the ethnic cleansing campaigns in Prijedor, returned to BiH, to live in the same family home where he was born and raised as he himself says “out of spite!”

Author::

How important do you think is Bosnian defiance/spite?

Amir::

As you can see, it is always important! It’s kind of like the joke. I don’t know if you’ve heard it?

Somebody asked a Muslim from Bosnia, a Bosniak, whether he would want to convert to Christianity in exchange for 10,000 marks?

He said: ‘No!’

‘How about a million?’

‘No’, he repeated.

‘Not for ten thousand, not for a million?’

‘No.’

‘So, how would you convert to Christianity?’

‘Only out of spite. Out of spite and defiance, I would!’ the Bosnian man shouted back.

Author and Amir::

Laughter!

Amir::

That is how important our Bosnian defiance is for us.

Bosnian defiance or spite is pervasive to the extent that it has its own jokes and humor associated with it. This particular joke refers to a stubborn adherence to a particular religious creed, denied only as an act of defiance, however, it is certainly not limited only to religion, in general, or to a specific religious denomination. As Buturović points out, defiance is seen as an antidote to liminality, whatever its source might be.

Returning to BiH was an act of defiance for many of my study participants. They have returned, despite events from the past. Alija, a Bosniak minority returnee to Republika Srpska discusses defiance as key in his decision to return and in his understanding of citizenship.

Alija::

You will see when you visit Kozarac that the people of that area have gone through unimaginable horror, but still you will see them defiant. In spite of these horrific experiences, they love Kozarac even more passionately. They are investing in its reconstruction and development. They are rebuilding their destroyed houses and lives. A similar thing is also happening in Prijedor. In some ways, we can conceive of two reactions after tragic events. Either people say ‘I will never go there. I never want to recall those events,’ or the contrary ‘now, I will visit even more. I will show the people who expelled me I am still alive and that this is my city too.’ I feel that the second option is what I have chosen to do. I have chosen to say intentionally: ‘you see, even after everything that has happened. I am still here. I am still alive and I am a citizen of this country!’

In addition, as Arif points out, defiance is completely separate from a desire for revenge. Instead of the destructiveness of revenge, defiance plays a crucial role in the pursuit of justice.

Arif::

You see, what we have here is the rebuilding of an entire town from the ground up. Kozarac was literally wiped off the face of the Earth during the war and what we have done is to rebuild it with 5000 new houses. We, the people from Kozarac, did this within three to 4 years. A new town was born here–simply out of our defiance!

People who were expelled during the 1990s, have made their fortunes abroad and are now returning to show that they remain unvanquished. Abroad, regardless of their success, they are and will always remain refugees, people who were thrown out of their homes, defeated men, those who have accepted the law of force, who has accepted that these horrible crimes have largely gone unpunished, regardless of the efforts of the International Criminal Tribunal [ICTY]. It was impossible to process each and every crime, due to their sheer immensity. Returnees to the Prijedor and Kozarac areas have also aided international justice here, as so many of the war criminals have been processed as a direct result of refugee returns. When we started to return, many of the arrests started to happen.

Are we going to accept that fascism has won in these areas? No, we will not accept this! I am not talking about any kind of revenge. I am not talking about returning so that the killing could go on. This is important to underline. I am only talking about justice and the appropriate punishment for crimes commited.

Arif’s perspective on return to Kozarac is consistent with Sebina Sivac-Bryant’s An Ethnography of Contested Return: Re-Making Kozarac, who writes of the debates between members of the kozarac.ba online community and returnees to Kozarac:

On the emotional level, it had spawned some very interesting and very self-aware debates about victimhood, the struggle to come to terms with the past, and recently (since the International Court of Justice failed to convict Serbia for complicity in genocide) a need to share stories of those who were killed as a way of reclaiming their presence within the community. At the same time, narratives are constructed in such a way as to illustrate, through individual stories, the resilience and strength of communal life despite everything, reaffirming its continuation (Sivac-Bryant, 2016).

Pursuit of justice and not revenge, resilience and strength as opposed to victimhood, are the building blocks of defiance as part of the emotional dimension of BiH citizenship.

Loyalty to BiH citizenship and refusal to renounce it, even when required to obtain a second citizenship is an act of defiance. When asked about applying for dual Turkish citizenship, Amir refused, explaining that he would face pressure to renounce his BiH citizenship as there is no bilateral agreement between Turkey and BiH on dual citizenship.

Amir::

No, I did not want it out of spite. In order to gain Turkish citizenship I would have to give up my BiH citizenship and I would never do that. I did not want to do this out of defiance. Actually, this is the same reason I rejected getting any other second citizenship. I wouldn’t even hear of it. My wife is Turkish. We have been married for 19 years and I definitely have met all the requirements for citizenship. I don’t want it–out of defiance. I feel defiant.

Bilateral agreements on dual citizenship exist only between BiH and Serbia, Croatia and Sweden. However, as was elaborated throughout the study, most of the participants are dual, and in some cases triple citizens, with combinations such Swiss-BiH, US-BiH, Norwegian-BiH or Australian-BiH. The explanation is a tacit recognition by both BiH and the host state that dual citizenship is a reality although bilateral agreements do not exist. Dual citizenship status will not be endangered as long as one of the states does not demand renouncing the second citizenship. In the case of Turkey, the fact that the highly politicized nature of dual citizenship does not allow for the official signing of a bilateral agreement between BiH and Turkey, does not preclude Turkish authorities to require applicants to renounce their BiH citizenship as pre-condition for obtaining Turkish citizenship. This is the reason Amir feels defiant in retaining his BiH citizenship.

4.1.16 Happiness and Joy

The returnees derive happiness and joy from contributing and from witnessing progress and the possibility for change. Alija views his contribution as active participation in economic development.

Alija::

So, if I were to sum it all up it would be about my job that I love passionately and for which I see a purpose because I work on involving diaspora members in economic development. I have a satisfactory level of income and I have a sense of contributing to my home country. All these factors make me a happy man.

Ervin derives joy from aiding economic development and being an “agent of change,” rejecting the possibility of taking a sidelines position.

Ervin::

I feel more joy than pride. The joyous part of me confirms each day that change is actually possible. Perhaps I look at all the issues through my individual prism, the prism of an agent of change,Footnote 27 one who inspires others to change. I really am not in the position of a passive observer, one who attends a soccer game, cheers for our team and says things like: ‘Look at us now! Now, we have our own state.’

When discussing the happiness and joy they derived from being BiH citizens, the returnees frequently referred to what they were doing to improve the overall state of affairs in BiH, their status as “agents of change.” The return migration literature has devoted considerable attention (for example, Bovenkerk, 1974; King, 1978; Gmelch, 1980; Portes, 1999) to the opportunities and limitation for returnees to act as agents of change. Some authors are hopeful about the returnees catalyzing positive social change in the home state, while others are much more skeptical. Particularly relevant to returnees who derive happiness and joy from their sense of contribution to BiH society is the concept of “vernacularization”, introduced by Levitt and Merry (2009) and discussed in Kuschminder (2017). In brief, vernacularization is the process of translating and adapting internationally relevant phenomena to a local context (Kuschminder, 2017) and “vernacularizers take the ideas and practices of one group and present them in terms that another group will understand” (Levitt & Merry, 2009, p. 446). Examples of successful vernacularization in Alija’s case is facilitating diaspora investment in BiH and Ervin’s IT startup hub and co-working space in Sarajevo.

Besides taking an active role in the BiH economy, the returnees see themselves as members of a politically active citizenry, whether their political engagement is conducted through direct party affiliation, work with municipal authorities or voting. Senad joined one of BiH leading opposition parties because he “wanted the water supply problem solved” and says that “finally, I started doing and stopped complaining. This is my source of happiness.” Vedad regularly attends meetings in his municipality and feels that he has a voice in local decision- making.

Vedad::

But, do you know why is it that I am happy? I am happy because my municipality is finally starting to care for its citizens. In the past, their only accomplishment was selling a piece of land to some Arab guy, while now they are really talking about the interest of all of us–building schools, sports and cultural facilities. It’s easy to sell the land to a foreigner, who will setup his own business and make it impossible for our children to even have their playground here. When I see that the municipality authorities are starting to think of the citizens, of us–this is what makes me happy!

Alma, who takes an active role in educating kindergarten children in the values of “love for one’s country” also finds happiness in her voting preferences.

Alma::

Well, what can I say…I always vote for some parties, which I hope could create change at least at the level of our canton. And I am very happy. I am talking about “Our Party.” So far, they have held their promises and I have not been disappointed. They are not a very strong party, but they always have my vote. I am happy about it.

Deriving happiness and joy from political participation and performing other citizenship practices, such as voting, counters the view (Pedersen, 2003; Carling et al., 2015) of returnees as often socially alienated upon return. The concept of “vernacularization” (Levitt & Merry, 2009) finds direct application to the returnees’ political engagement. In fact, the model was originally applied to international human rights and women’s rights movement and checked against their local adaptation. Senad, Vedad and Alma with experiences from the U.S. and Germany seem to be playing their roles in political vernacularization and deriving happiness from their status as BiH citizens.

4.1.17 Hope

Hope is an act of desperate defiance against monstrous odds.

Ivo Andrić, Bosnian Chronicle

Elections, with their possibility for positive change, are seen as both a source of hope and hopelessness. Admir is hopeful about the possibility for elections to bring about progress.

Admir::

Well, there is always hope. I am an optimist generally in life. I still hope and believe that things will get better here. So, I have this hope every time I vote in elections that something could change.

Marija and Selim, on the other hand, are pessimistic about the prospects brought about by elections.

Marija::

Well, yes. I would like the situation to change, but I doubt it can. The people who win elections work only for their own selfish interests, while hiding behind their nationalities and their religious communities. In reality, they care for nobody except for themselves.

Besides the abuse of ethnonationalist rhetoric, Selim believes that elections are corrupted by how campaigns are financed and votes bought.

Selim::

I mean I have absolutely no hope from elections, particularly not in these areas where votes are regularly bought through beer and pork roasts. Elections are bought and the person spending the most on a campaign is the one who wins. The winners are not the educated or the capable; they are usually criminals and war profiteers. These are people with no vision for how to develop our economy. In such circumstance, my vote literally means nothing.

A major outside factor providing hope is the prospect of BiH joining the EU. Damir hopes that BiH joining the EU will make renewed conflict an impossibility.

Damir::

I see great hope in BiH joining the EU. I believe that all this talk of secession and referendums will lose their point once we become a member. We will live in a big community with borders erased, including our internal borders. This is my hope. Even the current talk of secession is only rhetoric for personal gain and staying in power, nothing else.

For some returnees, people of different ethnicities continuing to live together is perceived as a source of hope for a better future. Gavrilo finds hope in everyday activities he pursues as a citizen of BiH, together with people of different ethnic backgrounds.

Gavrilo::

Well, other countries had conflicts, and they went through similar things as us. Most probably, things will somehow get back to normal and we will all understand that we need to work on building peace and co-existence. Through my mountaineering societies, I am friends with Croats, Serbs, and Muslims [Bosniaks] and we don’t talk much of our painful past. This is hopeful to me.

For Arif, the mere act of survival against such difficult circumstance and the courage necessary for survival is a source of hope.

Arif::

And as I pass by Keraterm, each time I walk by, I get these thoughts running through my mind: ‘a generation of those close to me and of my friends has been killed in one day, but still somebody, somebody survived. I survived. I am here and I can testify about everything that has happened, about each murder and each scene of torture. Somebody survived to tell the story.’ Having hope is important, but having courage is more important. You need to be brave here, more so now than during the wartime camps.

Although hope is not a dominant emotion in the returnees’ understanding of BiH “citizenship as feeling,” still the glimmers of hope seem to be offered by some possibility for democratically induced change, BiH joining the EU and continued, albeit problematic, ethnic co-existence. Most importantly, hope seems to come from survival “against monstrous odds” (Andrić, 2015).

4.2 Conclusion

This chapter examines the specific emotions constituting the emotional dimension of BiH citizenship for the returnees, answering the question of how does it feel to be a citizen of Bosnia and Herzegovina. The emotions range from rage, anger, frustration to fear, guilt, denial, disgust, shame, disappointment, pity and empathy, to nostalgia and powerlessness. On the more positive side of the emotional spectrum, there are patriotic love, pride, defiance, joy, happiness and hope. In interpreting results of qualitative data analysis, I have provided commentary on the historical, political, economic, social, and cultural context of Bosnia’s recent past and current realities. In doing so, I have developed the core argument of this chapter: the specific emotions constituting citizenship are context-dependent, so a thorough understanding of the particular context is key. For my study, context is both the particular case country, but also voluntary or “decided” (Cassarino, 2008) return migration – more broadly understood. There are instances where the returnees’ responses are consistent with wider themes in migration research, such as the various dimensions of migrants’ guilt (Baldassar, 2001; Baldassar, 2015; Boccagni & Baldassar, 2015), the onset of disappointment upon return (for example, King & Christou, 2009), or the returnees’ positioning as vernacularizing agents of social change (Levitt & Merry, 2009; Kuschminder, 2017).

Overwhelmingly, however, the specific emotions constituting BiH citizenship for the returnees are rooted in Bosnia’s recent history and the state’s structure engrained in the DPA, a peace agreement which stopped a horrific war while failing to create the conditions for a long-term and prosperous peace. Some of the main characteristics of Bosnia and Herzegovina as a return migration setting are: the failure to sustainably implement Annex 7 provisions of the Dayton Peace Agreement with the result of de facto legalizing ethnic cleansing and genocide; entrenched ethnic divisions; a bureaucratic structure envisioned by the DPA not conducive to economic growth and development; and the DPA producing significant power vacuums within the BiH state structure, thus providing plenty of room for corruption, with the rule of law becoming the exception and the abuse of political power by oligarchic ethnonationalist elites the effective norm. The returnees are people who have voluntarily decided to leave the relative comfort of the lives they managed to build for themselves in a variety of host countries such as Germany, United States, Australia, Austria or Switzerland, so that they could attempt to rebuild their war-torn past and contribute to the rebuilding of their home country. Their response to the various emotions constituting BiH citizenship is to persist in their efforts with determination and courage. While acknowledging the emotions they feel as citizens, they are not deterred. However, it is important to note that their courage and determination is the result of their own agency, while the success of their return is not due to state structure, but in spite of the obstacles it presents.