• 63
  • 378
  • 40
  • 97
756 SHARES

Slovenia's Evolution: Navigating Tumultuous Paths from Early Dreams of Tolerance to Present Realities

Saturday, 16 December 2023 12:32 Opinion

In the early days of Slovenia's independence, my family embarked on a transformative journey by welcoming a Bosnian refugee family into our home. The year was 1993, and the promise of a new nation, driven by ideals of tolerance and happiness, resonated deeply with our family. My father's announcement over a breakfast in July marked the beginning of an unexpected chapter. "Ana, our life will change soon," he declared, prompting thoughts of poverty in my eight-year-old mind.

To my surprise, the change was not financial hardship but a decision to host another family – a Bosnian trio named U, H, and their teenage daughter, M. Despite my initial excitement at the prospect of newfound siblings, the reality of their displacement due to the war in Bosnia weighed heavily on my young consciousness. A classmate had already shared the harrowing tale of fleeing Bosnia because of identity and faith.

Eager to fulfill our national promise of inclusivity, I implored my parents to be on their best behavior. They not only welcomed U, H, and M with benevolence but infused joy into their lives. Card games, walks, and collaborative garden projects became our shared experiences, bridging cultural gaps. Yet, my personal agenda lingered as I delved into questions about their faith, grappling with the concept of praying differently.

As our living arrangement unfolded, the strain of our good intentions became evident. The proverbial Slovene warning, "Their eyes were larger than their stomachs," echoed in our unfinished home with insufficient beds. Sleeping arrangements on the floor brought about discomfort, embodying the challenges inherent in our compassionate endeavor.

As life settled for the Bosnian family living with us, my parents extended their support further. With our neighbors offering more spacious accommodations, my father provided paid work in his car parts business to H, while my mother took charge of what she whimsically referred to as the family's "bureaucracy and administration." Over endless cups of coffee, she shared moments with U on our terrace.

In my relentless efforts to befriend M, the older and quieter member of the Bosnian family, I buzzed around her ceaselessly, despite our differences. While I favored street play, she immersed herself in books. Despite these disparities, we walked to school together, forging a unique bond.

The apparent tranquility of their settled life shattered when H declared their departure for Germany. Heartbroken, I questioned if they were leaving because our new country lacked happiness. My mother's explanation, that Germany, being older and wealthier, offered more opportunities, became my accepted truth.

Fast forward to today—Slovenia is just over 32, and I am slightly over 38. The naive optimism of my childhood has given way to a harsh reality. While searching for M on social media, I encounter a disheartening reality—a legion of Slovene-speaking individuals embracing the dangerous far-right ideology propagated by Janez Janša, the leader of the largest hard-right party.

Contrary to the inclusive ideals our nation once aspired to, I find online platforms rife with applause for racism and Islamophobia. These sentiments, coupled with the myths of Slovene-ness and independence, have taken root, demonstrating the success of nationalist narratives in shaping public opinion. I witness a surge of hate, fueled by fear, meticulously cultivated by nationalists despite Slovenia's limited immigrant population.

As I navigate the virtual landscape, I grapple with the stark contrast between the inclusive vision of my childhood and the divisive reality that has emerged. The echoes of that time with U, H, and M resonate as a poignant reminder of the transformative power of empathy and acceptance—a lesson that seems increasingly lost in the shadows of rising nationalism.

In a disturbing turn of events, Janez Janša, a former prime minister of Slovenia, took to Twitter to issue a call to arms following a pro-Palestinian protest in Ljubljana. Janša's inflammatory tweet urged Slovenians to arm themselves against Arab and Muslim migrants, framing them as a perceived threat to western civilization. This alarming rhetoric is a stark reminder of his persistent efforts over three decades to redefine the very essence of Slovenia.

Reflecting on the tumultuous journey of Slovenia, I've come to realize that every country, regardless of its age, is essentially an old relic, constantly grappling with age-old challenges. The quest for nationhood often involves resorting to some of the oldest tricks in the book—violence, the dehumanization of certain groups, and arbitrary land divisions. The haunting concepts of country and nationality now weigh heavily on my thoughts.

Notably, a country resembles Cain, a figure driven not only by envy but also a relentless desire for power. Yet, in my eight-year-old perspective, I glimpsed something new and different in the early days of Slovenia—something beyond sovereignty, maps, wealth, or administrative processes. It was about community.

To M, U, and H—members of the Bosnian family we once welcomed—I find myself wondering if our community truly offered you solace and if you've found a space where you can now breathe freely. While Gods may not dictate such outcomes, I am certain that there are still humans who champion the cause of inclusive and supportive communities.

As I grapple with the complexities of nationhood and identity, I extend an unspoken inquiry to those who once shared a part of our lives. In a world rife with divisive rhetoric, I yearn to know if the essence of genuine community transcends borders and if the bonds we formed back then contributed to creating a sanctuary where breathing becomes a collective, unrestricted experience.

In conclusion, the journey through Slovenia's complex evolution prompts contemplation on the enduring challenges of nationhood and identity. Janša's recent divisive rhetoric serves as a distressing reminder of the persistent struggle to define the essence of Slovenia over three decades. The realization that every country, regardless of age, grapples with age-old issues, such as violence, dehumanization, and arbitrary divisions, underscores the inherent complexities.

The metaphor of a country as a Cain, driven by both envy and a thirst for power, resonates as a poignant commentary on the challenges that nations face in defining themselves. However, the recollection of a bygone era, when community prevailed over administrative intricacies, offers a glimmer of hope and a reminder of the transformative power of unity.

As the author reaches out to M, U, and H, former members of a shared community, the question lingers: Did our collective efforts create a sanctuary where breathing freely became a reality for them? In a world marred by divisive ideologies, the inquiry extends beyond borders, seeking to understand if the bonds formed back then contributed to the creation of a space where the human experience transcends restrictions and fosters genuine connection. The quest for community, it seems, remains an enduring aspect that can offer solace in the face of shifting national narratives.

Next
The mother of a 6-year-old Muslim boy, who was fatally stabbed in what is believed to be a hate crime related to the ongoing conflict between Israel and Hamas