By Xhabir Deralla

It is not unknown, but it must be repeated constantly: Balkan societies suffer from deep ethnic divisions. For political elites, these divisions are not a problem to be solved, but a resource to be exploited. Through manipulation, polarization, and the deepening of fears, they remain relevant, win power, or hold on to it.

On the other hand, in academic, civic, and media circles — even among those who present themselves as progressive — processes related to improving interethnic relations and social cohesion often remain secondary. Or they are suffocated by narratives, empty phrases, and theorizing that have little to do with reality. In fact, they evade the essence through abstract debates, diplomatically convenient and politically correct publications and projects that are utterly superficial. And instead of challenging nationalist structures, they often serve as a façade, providing proof that “something is being done,” while the essential problems remain untouched.

This is a note on the basic positions from which every serious debate on the civic state, ethnic rights, equality, and a shared future must begin. It is not based on theory, but on living testimonies from the difficult everyday lives of citizens from all communities who share this small, fragile, and common state.

When it is said that North Macedonia should be a civic state, while at the same time calling for “enough already with ethnic issues,” a dangerous substitution of theses is being made.

How so?

A civic state does not mean a state in which ethnic, linguistic, cultural, or religious identities are suppressed in the name of some abstract “nation of individuals.” On the contrary. A true civic state is precisely one that guarantees the rights of all citizens — both as individuals and as members of communities.

According to its Constitution, North Macedonia is a civic and social state. But it is also a multiethnic, multiconfessional, and multicultural society. These two things are not opposed to each other. On the contrary, they are conditions for one another.

And here another important distinction must be made. Nation-building — if we use the term at all in a modern, democratic sense — does not mean erasing differences. It does not mean melting different identities into one dominant ethnic, cultural, or linguistic mold.

In a civic state, the bearers of statehood are the citizens. They constitute the political community of the state. But that political community must not be used as an excuse to impose the ethnic character of one community on all others.

In other words, the civic state is not — and must not be — a convenient façade for the ethnic majority. It is a shared political home for all citizens.

That is why invoking “nation-building” becomes problematic the moment the term is used to imply quiet assimilation, the relativization of ethnic rights, or pressure for differences to retreat from the public space. Such “nation-building” is not a civic project. It is a project of domination, protected by respectable political language in order to remain under the radar of the international community and international law — and, perhaps, to attract a million-euro grant for “advancement.”

Real building of a shared state does not require people to give up who they are. On the contrary, it requires the state to be just, broad, and democratic enough for everyone to belong to it without fear that their identity will be treated as an obstacle.

Therefore, when some “concerned democrats” exclaim: “Enough already with ethnic rights, let us build a civic state,” they are not offering a civic concept. They are offering nationalism, concealed behind civic vocabulary. Not very successfully concealed, in fact.

Such an approach implies that someone from a position of power decides which rights are “truly civic” and which are “too ethnic.” This is a problem. A fundamental one. Because the moment someone begins to select which human rights deserve public debate, institutional protection, and political attention, they are no longer speaking about a civic state, but about a state in which the majority defines the boundaries of freedom.

And that is not a civic concept. It is a hierarchy.

Within such a framework, narrow to the point of suffocation, citizens — Albanians, Turks, Roma, Bosniaks, Serbs, Vlachs, Croats, Jews, Bulgarians, and others — are deprived of the right to say for themselves which issues matter for their equality, dignity, and belonging in the state. In other words, they are equal only on paper, while in reality they are treated as “less equal than the equal.” This is how the narrative is normalized that an Albanian “has no right” to represent the state interests of the country. Or, by the same logic, if someone is not an ethnic Macedonian, then they have no right to write, speak, or debate the need to include Bulgarians — or any other community — in the Constitution.

That is the foundation of the problem.

Behind the formal language of equality lies an informal hierarchy of belonging. Some are seen as the “natural” bearers of the state, while others are treated as guests who are allowed to speak only about “their own” ethnic issues. And even that — only when they are allowed to do so.

That hierarchy is strongly present in language and public habits, but it does not remain there. It is also reflected in the institutional order that determines who is visible, who is recognized, who is named, and who remains on the margins of the constitutional and political community.

There are communities in the country that are still not explicitly included in the Constitution. Among them is the Bulgarian community, whose inclusion — together with several other communities — has been blocking North Macedonia’s European path for years. The resistance to this issue reveals a deep problem: the inability of political and social elites to accept that a civic state is not built by erasing differences, but by recognizing them and protecting them equally.

It is simple. A genuine civic approach to human rights and freedoms — guaranteed by the Constitution, the laws, and international law — must not limit, select, or rank rights according to whether someone considers them “too ethnic.”

A civic state is not a state without communities. It is a state in which no community may stand above the others, but no community may be erased in the name of false civicness.

Truth is under attack!
Support CIVIL’s independent media in the fight against disinformation, hybrid threats, and authoritarianism.

Contribute NOW