The Pennsylvania State University the Graduate School College Of

The Pennsylvania State University

The Graduate School

College of Earth and Mineral Sciences

‘THE BELLY OF ZAGREB’: IDENTITY, DEVELOPMENT, AND

EUROPEANIZATION IN CROATIA’S OPEN-AIR MARKETS

A Dissertation in

Geography

Jennifer L. Titanski-Hooper

Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

December 2017

The dissertation of Jennifer L. Titanski-Hooper was reviewed and approved* by the following:

Melissa W. Wright Professor of Geography and Women’s Studies Head of the Department of Women’s Studies Dissertation Advisor Chair of Committee

Lorraine Dowler Associate Professor of Geography and Women’s Studies

Brian King Associate Professor of Geography

Tobias Brinkmann Malvin and Lea Bank Associate Professor of Jewish Studies and History

Cynthia Brewer Professor of Geography Head of the Department of Geography

*Signatures are on file in the Graduate School

ABSTRACT This dissertation analyzes the social and spatial contradictions of European identity through an examination of daily economic and identity practices surrounding Croatia’s 2013 integration into the EU. Since its inception, the European Union (EU) has continuously redefined the social and geographic (b)orders of ‘Europe’. The EU promotes a ‘Europe’ that is culturally diverse, yet homogenous; geographically fixed, yet open to expansion. Member-states must prove their

‘European-ness’ by implementing policies and ideals that define ‘European’ ways of life, while

EU citizens must negotiate how their own identities and daily practices fit in. As the EU and

Croatian state seek to establish new ‘European’ norms, Croatians must negotiate how their identities (ethnic, gendered, religious, etc.) and economic practices fit within ‘authentic’ Croatian and European lifestyles. This dissertation demonstrates how Croatians identify certain practices and people for protection from Europeanization, often conceptualized as economic development.

Simultaneously, less desirable people and practices are regulated or disciplined in favor of meeting

‘European’ expectations. These debates circle around the larger questions of what it means to be

‘Croatian’ versus, ‘European’, and whether the two identities can co-exist. I examine these issues as they have played out in Zagreb’s tržnice (open-air markets), which are important sites of daily economic and identity practices. I analyze the cultural, legislative, and economic changes that EU integration has meant for the organization and experience of the tržnice in daily and urban Croatia.

My findings expose the multi-scalar tensions that occur through the processes of development and regionalization. My analyses contribute to understanding the debates surrounding Croatia’s EU integration and offer further insight into how individuals, communities, and states respond to key moments of geopolitical change.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF FIGURES………………...………………………………………………………..….vi LIST OF MAPS……………………………………………………………………………...... vii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS…………………………………………………………...……...... viii CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION—UNITY IN DIVERSITY?...... 1 Dissertation Research Questions and Objectives………………………………………………….4 The Challenges of a United Europe……………………………………………………………….6 A Brief History of Croatian Geopolitics………………………………………………………...... 9 Geographic Imaginaries and Imperialism...... 10 Nationalism and the World Wars...... 12 The Kingdom of Yugoslavia and the Rise of Croatian Fascism...... 13 The Rise and Fall of Yugoslavia...... 14 Croatian Independence and a European Future...... 15 Balancing Modernization and Tradition in the Tržnice...... 17 Theoretical Framework: The (Re)production of Identity through Development and Daily Practices...... 20 Identity Production in the EU: Europeanization as Development...... 21 Identity Production in Croatia and the Former Yugoslavia: Traditional and Feminist Geopolitics in the Creation of Borders and Belonging...... 25 Tying it all together: Interventions in Political and Development Geographies...... 32 Methods and Methodology...... 35 Positionality and Reflexivity...... 35 Participant Observation...... 40 Interviews and Informal Conversations...... 42 Textual Analysis...... 44 Conclusion: What’s Ahead…...... 45

CHAPTER 2: FINDING THE REAL KUMICA: DAILY PRACTICE AND TRADITION IN THE TRŽNICE………………………………………………………………………….….49 A Day in the Tržnice...... 53 Navigating the Landscape...... 53 Who Shops and Where...... 55 Finding the Real Kumica...... 57 What to Look For...... 57 What to Avoid...... 60 Protecting the Kumica...... 65 Becoming a Kumica...... 68 Imitating the Kumica...... 69 Certifying the Kumica...... 72 Conclusion...... 77

CHAPTER 3: THE ‘GREEN MAFIA’ AND FISCALIZATION: DISCIPLINING THE TRŽNICE THROUGH DEVELOPMENT………………………………………………...…82 European Development as Fiscal Responsibility...... 84 Fiscalization in Croatia...... 88

Undeclared Work and Fiscalization...... 88 Promoting Citizen Participation in Fiscalization...... 90 Perceptions of Fiscalization...... 94 Fiscalization in the Tržnice...... 99 Strikes in the Tržnice...... 101 Resellers and the ‘Green Mafia’...... 103 Conclusion: The Tržnice after Fiscalization...... 106

CHAPTER 4: CORPORATE GROCERY CHAINS, INTERSECTING CROATIAN AND EUROPEAN IDENTITIES, AND THE MODERNIZATION OF THE TRŽNICE……...112 A Day in a Grocery Chain...... 114 Popular Retail Chains and Consumer Shopping Habits...... 116 The Evolution of Grocery Chains and Consumer Shopping Habits...... 117 Popular Retail Chains...... 119 Corporate Chains and Practicing Croatian and European Identities...... 122 Foreign-Based Chains Celebrate Unity in Diversity...... 123 Domestic Chains Focus on Daily Life and Family...... 126 The Geographic Relationship between Corporate Chains and the Tržnice...... 131 Conclusion: Corporate Chains and Modernizing the Tržnice...... 135

CHAPTER 5: CONCLUSION: THE LIMITS OF ‘UNITY IN DIVERSITY’…………...144 Challenges to ‘Unity in Diversity’: The European Refugee Crisis……………...... 145 The Refugee Crisis in Southeastern Europe...... 146 Hope for a ‘European’ Future?...... 149

WORKS CITED……………………………………………………………………………....151

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1.1 Map of Dolac 48 Figure 1.2 EU=YU Graffiti 48 Figure 2.1 Kumica Barica 78 Figure 2.2 Tržnice Map 79 Figure 2.3 Britanski Trg 79 Figure 2.4 Refrigerators on the Dolac 80 Figure 2.5 “Kumica s Dolca” 80 Figure 2.6 Local Producers Receive Certificates 81 Figure 3.1 “The Missing Part” 109 Figure 3.2 “Bez računa se ne računa” 109 Figure 3.3 Striking Vendors I 110 Figure 3.4 Striking Vendors II 110 Figure 3.5 Trnje Market 111 Figure 4.1 Kaufland Ad 138 Figure 4.2 Lidl Ad I 138 Figure 4.3 Lidl Ad II 139 Figure 4.4 “dm EU countdown” 139 Figure 4.5 Konzum Ad 140 Figure 4.6 Kozmo Ad 140

LIST OF MAPS

Map 1: Foreign-Based Grocery Chains in Zagreb 141 Map 2: Foreign-Based Grocery Chains and Tržnice 141 Map 3: DM Stores and Tržnice 142 Map 4: Konzum Stores and Tržnice 142 Map 5: Bakery Chains and Tržnice 143

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This dissertation would not be possible without the support, guidance, and friendship of so many people. First, to my friends and research participants in Zagreb, I am forever in your debt. Thank you for sharing your stories, experiences, and homes with me. To Lana, Mirta, Andrea, and Amy, thank you for making Zagreb my second home. Moje srce je u Hrvatskoj!

I am eternally grateful for the support and encouragement of my advisor, Dr. Melissa Wright, and my committee members, Dr. Lorraine Dowler, Dr. Brian King, and Dr. Tobias Brinkmann. Your unique scholarly perspectives strengthened every aspect of this dissertation. I see your influence in my writing, teaching, and mentoring. Thank you for helping me to grow into the best scholar that I can be.

Thank you to my parents, who believed in me, even when I was not sure where this journey would lead. Your love, hard work, and sacrifice has always inspired and motivated me to pursue my professional and scholarly goals. I also want to thank my wonderful cohort of friends and writing partners at Penn State. You all have given me so much personal and scholarly support over the years, and I am so very glad to have you in my life, no matter where our academic endeavors take us.

I also want to thank the wonderful undergraduate students, who participated in UROC and assisted with the early stages of my mapping and data analysis. Thank you so much Evan, Jack, and Sydney!

Lastly, and most importantly, I dedicate this dissertation to my husband, Mike, and our most beautiful accomplishment together, our daughter Gwendolyn. This achievement is as much yours as it is mine, Mike. Your endless love and support has made this all possible. I love the family and life that we have built together, and am so honored to finish this with you at my side.

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Chapter 1: Introduction—Unity in Diversity?

"United in diversity", the motto of the European Union,…signifies how Europeans have come together, in the form of the EU, to work for peace and prosperity, while at the same time being enriched by the continent's many different cultures, traditions and languages [emphasis added] (Europa.eu, 2017).

Well into the 21st century, the European Union (EU) continues to redefine the social meaning and, even, the geographical integrity ‘Europe. The EU promotes a contradictory

‘Europe,’ one that is culturally diverse, yet homogenous; geographically fixed, yet open to expansion. Member-states must prove their ‘European-ness’ by implementing policies and ideals that define ‘European’ ways of life, while EU citizens must negotiate how their own identities and daily practices fit in. This dissertation analyzes these social and spatial contradictions through an examination of daily economic and identity practices in relation to Croatia’s 2013 integration into the European Union.

When, on July 1st, 2013, Croatia officially became the 28th member of the EU, the country’s cities erupted with celebrations. In Zagreb, the country’s capital, three stages in the main square, Trg Ban Jelačić, hosted the best of Croatian performers alongside politicians from

Croatia’s government, the US, and the EU. Thousands of Croats crowded the square or tuned in on television for this historic event. In watching the accession from a distance, I saw the same mixture of pride, apathy, and apprehension on the faces of the celebration attendees, as I had heard over and over again during the months of interviews, conversations, and observations I had conducted in Zagreb. For many, Croatia’s entrance to the EU was a celebration of Croatia’s ten- year path to stability, modernity, and democracy. Membership meant that Croatia had thrown off its socialist past in Yugoslavia and the wounds of the independence war in the 1990s. For them, membership meant that Croatia had finally rejoined its rightful place in ‘Europe’. On the morning after the celebrations, a close friend joked that she felt “different” that day. She was finally a “European.” She and her parents had watched the accession on TV the night before.

They had cried. For them, EU accession was a moment of monumental pride and a symbol of how far the country had come.

For others though, EU membership generated apprehension mixed with celebration.

Croatia’s EU accession raised a slew of questions: Would EU membership really bring increased economic opportunity and mobility, or would it mean higher prices and increased competition for Croatian producers? Would membership mean real changes to the Croatian political system, which is criticized for its corruption and nationalist rhetoric, or would it maintain the political status quo? Would membership signal cultural changes in the way that Croats view capitalism, democratic process, or regional politics? Or, would EU membership simply threaten existing

Croatian cultural practices; the very things that make Croatia, Croatian, whatever complicated meanings those words evoke. Perhaps only time would tell.

Regardless, though, of different views regarding the risks and rewards of EU membership, most of my research participants agreed that it would mean wide-sweeping changes for all Croatians. For instance, EU consumer protection laws, health and safety standards, and new tax legislation immediately affected the ways that Croats do business. These changes have led to lively debates over the relationship between identity and economic practices. As new

‘European’ practices and standards are established, Croatians must determine which identities

(ethnic, gendered, religious, etc.) and economic practices fit within an ‘authentic’ Croatian lifestyle. This dissertation demonstrates how Croatians identify certain practices and people for preservation and protection from the processes of Europeanization, while others are regulated, disciplined, or sacrificed in favor of meeting ‘European’ expectations. These debates circle around the larger questions of what it means to be ‘Croatian’ versus or as part of, ‘European’, and whether the two identities can co-exist.

This dissertation examines these issues as they have played out in the spaces of Zagreb’s tržnice (open-air markets) [pronounced TURJ-neat-say]1, which are important sites for daily economic practice and identity formation. The tržnice are an integral part of daily lived experience in Croatian communities. In Zagreb alone, there are over twenty tržnice. Each is open daily from the early morning to late the afternoon and offers a plethora of fresh produce, meats, dairy, and grains, in addition to cafes, food stands, textiles, and souvenirs. Some Croats view shopping at the tržnice as a part of their daily routine. Others view the tržnice as part of a traditional, local experience. The history of the tržnice is intertwined with the recent history of

Zagreb, so much so that the city’s largest market, the Dolac, is known as ‘The Belly of Zagreb’.

Since the EU negotiation process began in 2004, these local markets have undergone a variety of changes. European consumer protections and health and safety standards have forced producers and merchants to adopt new practices for labeling and storing their products, and tax legislation threatens the daily practices of buying, selling, and haggling. As a consequence of EU integration and Croatia’s increased integration with the global economy, the tržnice have also faced broadened regional competition from grocery chains and international consumer products.

Grocery chains provide expanded and often less expensive choices for consumers, who no longer need to depend on the tržnice for daily shopping needs. Chains have also transformed the physical spaces of the tržnice. Grocery, drug, and bakery chains have geographically located themselves in or near many of the tržnice, making it harder for individual vendors to compete

1 I have chosen to use the Croatian word, tržnice, instead of open-air markets. Many of my respondents would have either referred to these spaces as simply, “the market” in English, or called them by their individual names (i.e. Dolac, Branimirovac, Trešnjevka). I have chosen to use the Croatian term in order to draw attention to the larger historical and cultural importance of these spaces to Croatian identity and the urban development of Zagreb. Each tržnica’s location is tied strategically to city squares, which are also geographically connected to religious and governmental institutions. The centrality and connectivity of these spaces is similar to historical urban development trends throughout Europe. Whether it is a plaza in Spain, a platz in Germany, or a piazza in Italy, the joining of urban squares with economic, religious, and governmental activity is a European cultural phenomenon.

with the standardization and options that chains can offer. The physical presence of chains in relation to the tržnice contributes to the sense that chains are a part of an ‘authentic’ Croatian lifestyle, making it easier to discipline unwanted vendors (specifically, resellers and ethnic minorities), while also implementing ‘European’ values.

In the chapters that follow, I examine the cultural, legislative, and economic changes that integration to the EU has meant for the organization and experience of the tržnice in daily and urban Croatia. I further investigate the various and conflicting responses to these changes by market vendors and consumers. My analyses contribute to understanding the debates surrounding and motivated by the Croatia’s EU integration and offer further insight into how individuals, communities, and states respond to key moments of geopolitical change.

These findings contribute to the fields of political and development geographies, and offers a framing for understanding the fluid boundaries between these two subdisciplines. The experience of EU integration in Croatia reveals the seemingly endless contradictions that are present in the multi-scalar processes of nation and state-building. Ethnic, national, and supranational identities are continuously (re)shaped and challenged across geographic scale. In the European context, these identities intersect with economic development. Development becomes a feature of ‘European’ belonging that is promoted by state institutions, and increasingly embodied by communities negotiating daily life in the EU.

Dissertation Research Questions and Objectives

Toward addressing such issues, I organize this dissertation around two principle research questions: 1) How does the process of EU integration affect the everyday experiences and practices of communities?, and 2) How are these everyday experiences and practices given

new meanings and importance in relation to ethnic and national identities and ‘European’ belonging? In examining Zagreb’s tržnice, I more specifically asked, (a) how and why market users interact with the tržnice, (b) how those interactions are changing in relation to increased regulation of the tržnice and the availability of other shopping options, and (c) in what ways market users view particular practices within the tržnice in relation to embodied identities (i.e. gender, ethnicity, age) and to feelings of belonging in Zagreb, in Croatia, and in the EU. These questions are informed by feminist political geography and critical development studies frameworks that I discuss later in this chapter. In attempting to meet ‘European’ values and expectations, the Croatian state and Croatian communities defend some practices in the tržnice, while attempting to regulate and discipline others. The main argument of this dissertation is that, rather than being ‘united in diversity’, the process of EU integration creates spaces of inclusion and exclusion, where only some identities and practices are seen as either ‘Croatian’ or

‘European’, some are expendable, and others are (re)formed and (re)created in the image of both

‘Croatian’ and ‘European’ ideals.

This chapter sets the context for understanding the importance and relevance of this dissertation. Firstly, I discuss the contradictions inherent in the EU’s dream of ‘unity in diversity’, and explain how this dissertation contributes to a more nuanced understanding of these issues. Secondly, I explain the importance of the tržnice as sites for analyzing cultural, political, and economic change. Thirdly, I move to a discussion of the theoretical framework and scholarly significance of this research. I then describe my methodological approach. Lastly, I conclude with a brief outline of the chapters that follow in the rest of this dissertation.

The Challenges of a United Europe

I conducted the fieldwork for this project in the year leading up to Croatia’s EU accession. This timing offered an ideal opportunity to analyze the debates, apprehensions, and excitements that people in Croatia experienced prior to joining the EU. In a larger context,

Croatia’s accession occurred at a time when the very existence of the EU, and its dedication to

‘unity in diversity’ was being challenged most strongly.

The EU began as a post-WWII partnership by the European Coal and Steel Community to integrate European states economically, as a way of deterring future wars and conflict. In

1958, Belgium, Germany, France, Italy, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands formed the European

Economic Community (EEC) in an attempt to form a single, interconnected, economic market.

By 1993, the community had expanded into most of Western Europe, but also expanded its concerns beyond the economy. The community began to pursue political interests in migration, justice, democratic process, health, and environment. The shift in size and focus led to the name change from the EEC to the European Union. The EU has since formed a single currency in the

Euro, and created the Schengen Area, allowing for the free movement of people between participating members (European Union 2017).

The development of the EU has not been a linear progression towards economic and political unity, however. The degree that member-states choose to participate and invest remains in flux, with only nineteen of twenty-eight member-states adopting the Euro (European Union

2017), and states like the UK and Ireland opting out of the Schengen Area (European

Commission 2017). The borders of the EU, and of Europe, are then quite flexible and/or contested, depending on the criteria used to define it. While the EU continues to define itself in relation to certain shared ‘European’ values, which I discuss in greater detail throughout this

dissertation, questions remain regarding the criteria for membership, benefits to member-states, and the future territorial expansion of the EU.

“Euroscepticism” has challenged the unity of member-states from the beginning of the economic and political experiment. Migration, currency, expansion, and the preservation of national and state sovereignty have been front in center in debates over the degree to which states wish to participate in the union, or grant power to increasingly bureaucratic institutions. In the last six or seven years, though, the EU has faced some of its greatest challenges.

The 2008 global economic crisis, and the ongoing fiscal crisis in Greece, have raised questions regarding the responsibility that larger or stronger member-states have for supporting or ‘bailing out’ less economically stable members. While some member-states, most notably

Germany, have supported programs to assist their ailing neighbors for the ‘greater good’ of the

European community, others, like the UK, have questioned the detrimental effects that financial stabilization programs may have on their own economies. More recently, threats with origins external to the EU have raised the most questions regarding the viability of the union.

The threat of international terrorism and the ongoing refugee crisis, both resulting from the rise of ISIL and the Syrian Civil War, have raised European anxiety levels regarding the ability of the EU to protect their borders and ways of life. These concerns are practical, as there has been an increase in terrorist attacks, and EU member-states have a limited ability to provide infrastructure and services to support the large number of refugees entering Europe. These concerns have also revealed an ugly side to the shared dream of ‘unity in diversity’.

In recent years, a rise in nationalist and populist politics has revealed the limits of

‘European’ belonging. The EU began as an attempt to prevent the kinds of nationalism that contributed to two World Wars. However, the goal of preserving the diversity and sovereignty of

EU member-states leaves space for the promotion of some national and ethnic identities over others. A fear of the others within and outside Europe has increased xenophobia and

Euroscepticism. The 2016 UK referendum to leave the EU, known as Brexit, passed to the surprise of both European institutions and UK citizens, and is a reflection of this increase in fear of the other. Brexit challenges ‘European’ unity and the continued existence of the EU itself. The referendum has opened space for other member-states to question whether EU membership is still desirable and beneficial. Despite attempts to promote regional unity, Brexit proves that one’s own country and people are still more important than the greater good of the European community. In Chapter 5, I explore the issues of European unity through the refugee crisis.

My analysis of the changes facing Zagreb’s tržnice also offers an important contribution to understanding the tension between ‘European’ unity and the preservation of local and national identities and sovereignties across scale. In Croatia, there are mixed feelings regarding EU membership. There is a sense that the EU, at least abstractly, is beneficial, because it signals that

Croatia is part of the European community. Achieving membership represents an economic and political accomplishment, whereby Croatia is as developed, modern, and stable as other EU member-states. However, the real, tangible, benefits of EU membership are harder to measure.

The economic crisis and the dysfunction of EU institutions left many of the people I spoke with feeling as though EU membership would, at best, change little, and at worst, increase prices and competition, and decrease employment opportunities and social benefits.

My analysis of EU integration in the tržnice demonstrates these polarizing feelings of EU supranationalism by examining how Croatia’s process of Europeanization has impacted specific material practices and landscapes. The tržnice play an important role in daily lived experience of

Croatian communities. As such, any changes facing the markets will have impacts on local,

national, ethnic, and ‘European’ identities. The spaces of the tržnice reveal how Croatian communities view some identities and practices as more ‘authentic’ and deserving of protection from economic, social or political change. More importantly, the tržnice expose how communities construct some identities (especially those associated with ethnic minorities and resellers) as less desirable to either ‘Croatian’ or ‘European’ ways of life. Market users and the

Croatian state deliberately seek out less desirable practices for discipline or removal from the landscape and practices of the tržnice. Still, national identities and ‘European’ belonging do not always exist in opposition to one another, and market users are careful to defend the practices that seem to meet both Croatian and European ideals.

The changes facing Zagreb’s tržnice demonstrate the contradictions within ‘unity in diversity’. ‘European’ values do not completely strip away local identities and practices. And, individuals and communities do not always resist against the process of Europeanization. My examination of the multi-scalar relationships between everyday practices, national legislation, and EU integration in the tržnice reveals that the process of Europeanization leaves space for the coexistence of national, local, and regional or ‘European’ identities. The tržnice act as important sites for analyzing the complicated multi-scalar senses of being and belonging. In the next section, I briefly outline Croatia’s geopolitical history and provide a historical, cultural, and economic context of the tržnice, as they relate to Croatian state and nation-building, and

European belonging.

A Brief History of Croatian Geopolitics

Croatia has a population of over 4 million people. More than 94% of the population is a

Croatian citizen, and more than 90% identify as an ethnic Croat. Serbs are the largest ethnic

minority in the country, comprising just over 4% of the country (approximately 186,000 people).

All other ethnic minorities (i.e. Italians, Albanians, Slovenes, Bosnians, Roma) each make up less than 1% of the population (Croatia Statistical Yearbook 2016). This overwhelmingly homogenous population is the result of ethno-national conflict, and a deliberate political attempt to create a Croatian nation-state.

Still, the meanings of being and belonging in Croatia are shaped by the complex geopolitical histories of modern Europe, the Balkan Peninsula, and the divisions dividing East and West on the Eurasian continent. Complex understandings ethnicity and belonging in

Southeastern Europe2 and the Balkans continues to confuse the subjects of nationality and belonging in the region. Southeastern Europe is the place where the Ottoman and Austro-

Hungarian Empires met and clashed, and as such, represents the eastern most reaches of

Christianity and the Western most reaches of Islam. The region’s literal and imagined position has constructed it as ‘the other within’. These complicated geographies have served as a major contributor to regional ethnic and national strife.

Geographic Imaginaries and Imperialism

At one time or another, Croatian territory has been under the imperial influence of the

Romans, Venetians, Ottomans, Austrians, Hungarians, and Germans. Other Southeastern

European states experienced the same sort of diversity in their imperial rulers. From the 19th century forward, opposition to imperial rule led to an ‘invention of tradition’ (Hobsbawm 2000)

2 Throughout this dissertation, I generally refer to the Balkans as Southeastern Europe. I make this choice, due to the complicated meaning of being and belonging to the Balkans. In Serbia and Bosnia, being Balkan is less controversial, and is seen as a cultural and geographic fact. However, in Croatia or Slovenia, being Balkan is often contested, not just because of the associations with war and barbarism, but also due to the associations with Ottoman influence. In Croatia, a history of Austro-Hungarian influence not only refutes the country’s Balkan status, but supports a sense of belonging to Europe and the West.

that emphasized a history of independent legitimate regional kingdoms to justify ethnic and national sovereignty. The brief existence of a Croatian kingdom in the 900’s, has been used by politicians to historically legitimize the existence of a Croatian national movement (Lampe

2000:15). The first president of the independent Croatian state, Franjo Tuđman drew on this example when he declared that Croatia had finally achieved its thousand-year-old dream of independence in the 1990’s (Tanner 1997: ix).

In the 1800’s, territoriality, state-building, and political factions based on multiple ideas of cultural and ethnic belonging and rights to a nation created conflict in Southeastern Europe.

These conflicts, coupled with financial problems in the Ottoman Empire, as well as major changes in Western Europe (The French Revolution, Napoleonic Wars, and German unification), signaled that unrest in Southeastern Europe could have wide-spread implications for European stability (Glenny 1999).

To maintain its control of an increasingly troubled region, the Austrian Habsburgs granted limited autonomy to territories that are today part of the Croatian state. When Hungary revolted against the Habsburgs in 1848, Croat leadership saw an opportunity to assert its autonomy. The Croatian Ban (local leader/governor), Josip Jelačić, led armies against the

Hungarians to push them out of Croatia’s territory, and in the hopes of gaining some political and social autonomy for the Croatian province. However, he was loyal to the Habsburgs, and ultimately lacked the power necessary to effectively gain autonomy for Croatia (Lampe 2000:

46). Despite this, Croatian history cites Jelačić’s fight against the Hungarians as a nationalist victory. A statue bearing his likeness sits in Zagreb’s main square, mythologizing his reign as a pivotal moment in Croatian history and national tradition.

Southeastern Europe’s various attempts to gain sovereignty fed into the Western discourse of ‘the Balkans’ as ultra-nationalist and unstable. Marx even criticized Southeastern

European nations, calling them out as, “dying nationalities, the Bohemians, Carinthians, and

Dalmatians [who] had tried to profit by the universal confusion of 1848 in order to restore the political status quo of AD 800” (Tanner 1997: 93). Conflicts arising from the mixing of cultures and ongoing foreign interventions would ultimately give rise to terms like, ‘Balkan powder-keg’ and ‘balkanization’, meaning to fracture, or violently break-up. Maria Todorova, a Bulgarian historian, effectively told the story of this process of othering the Balkans:

“By being geographically inextricable from Europe, yet culturally constructed as ‘the other’ within, the Balkans have been able to absorb conveniently a number of externalized political, ideological, and cultural frustrations stemming from tensions and contradictions inherent to the regions and societies outside the Balkans. Balkanism became, in time, a convenient substitute…exempting the West from charges of racism, colonialism, eurocentrism, and Christian intolerance against Islam. After all, the Balkans are in Europe; they are white; they are predominantly Christian…the Balkans have served as a repository of negative characteristics against which a positive and self-congratulatory image of the ‘European’ and the ‘West’ has been constructed” (Todorova 1997:188)

I have written elsewhere on how the discourses of Balkanism have played both into Croatia’s process of EU negotiation, as well to a psychology whereby the Croatian state and citizens struggle to accept their Balkan cultural heritage, because of the negative geographic imaginaries associated with the region (Titanski-Hooper 2015).

Nationalism and the World Wars

In 1912, with the help of Bulgaria, Greece, and Montenegro, Serbia led forces to defeat the weakened Ottomans in Macedonia. Another war followed in 1913, when Serbia, Greece, and

Romania defeated Bulgaria over contested territory in Macedonia. Serbia was victorious in both conflicts, which lent support to a growing movement that sought to create a Pan-Slavic state.

Pan-Slavism supported the unification of all Slavic peoples in a single state; a goal complicated

by the geographic separateness of Slavic nations. Juraj Križanić, a 17th century priest and proponent of Pan-Slavism, determined that Slavs “could be sub-divided into six groups,

Russians, Poles, Czechs, Serbs, Croats, and Bulgars” (Tanner 1997: 46-47). The Balkan

Peninsula is the home of the southern Slavs, while the Poles and Czechs are western Slavs, and

Russia is eastern Slav territory. For Serbs, Pan-Slavism held the dream of Russian support for anti-imperialism.

Serb nationalists and supporters of Pan-Slavic unity sought to remove Habsburg control from Southeastern Europe, and organized the assassination of the Austrian heir, the Archduke

Franz Ferdinand, on June 28, 1914. The assassination, combined with the subsequent horrors of

WWI solidified the Western image of the Balkans as dangerous and ultra-nationalistic. As history would tell it, it was the assassination and the Balkan nationalist powder-keg that inadvertently started World War I (Lampe 2000: 71-100).

The Kingdom of Yugoslavia and the Rise of Croatian Fascism

The fall of the empires after WWI enabled Serbia, along with the Croatian and Slovenian provinces, to create the first of two Yugoslav states. The new conglomerate faced post-war economic problems, as well as governance and cultural issues. The first Yugoslavia was Serb dominated parliamentary kingdom, which not only concerned non-Serb citizens, but also made it difficult for the government to unify the former Habsburg and Ottoman political and legal systems. The state also had poor relations with its neighbors, especially Italy, and faced issues uniting the Catholic, Orthodox, and Muslim religions. These challenges led the state to become authoritarian, and ultimately fail because of nationalist movements and the invasions of Nazi

Germany and Mussolini’s Italy during WWII (Lampe 2000: 129-162).

One of the most notorious groups founded during the Kingdom of Yugoslavia was the

Croatian Ustaše. The Ustaše, meaning ‘insurgent’, sought to liberate Croatia from the Kingdom of Yugoslavia (Banač 1984: 269). Built on fascist ideologies, the Ustaše established a Croatian state, and supported eliminating non-Croat minorities from the nation’s borders. The group committed ethnic cleansing of Serb minorities, Roma, and Jews in concentration camps, including the most notorious camp at Jasenovac. By the end of the war, socialist partisans removed the Ustaše from power, but their legacy was long lasting. The actions of the Ustaše intensified divides between Croats and Serbs. Serbs used the memories of Ustaše violence to justify aggression against Croatia during the independence wars of the 1990’s. In Croatia, a version of the group’s flag is in use today (Banač 1984; Glenny 1999; Lampe 2000; Tanner

1997).

The Rise and Fall of Yugoslavia

Josip Broz Tito led the socialist partisans, who gained popularity during WWII and defeated the Ustaše. An ethnic Croat, Tito improved post-war relations between Croats and

Serbs, because of his disapproval of the Ustaše and his disaffection for nationality. Under his leadership, Yugoslavia formed again as a communist, multi-ethnic state (Banač 1984: 329, 339).

Tito created a disciplined communism in Yugoslavia. Under the motto, Bratstvo i Jedinstvo

(Brotherhood and Unity), Tito’s regime sought to quell nationalist tensions by promoting a single-Yugoslav identity (Simić 2000: 109). However, the promotion of a unified Slavic identity impacted non-Slavic minorities in the region. Albanians and the Roma, in particular, faced discrimination and a lack of political rights in Yugoslavia. In Chapter 2, I explore how this discrimination continues today in the tržnice and the broader process of Europeanization.

Despite attempts to unify the region, many academics and politicians throughout the conglomerate held onto the notion that Yugoslav unity was a temporary solution to the inevitable creation of independent nation-states in the region. In the 1980’s, Tito’s death, increasing economic problems throughout Yugoslavia, and a growing Serb nationalist movement caused

Yugoslav relations to deteriorate (Lampe 2000). By the 1990’s, the Yugoslav experiment ended as individual republics began to declare independence. Slovenia seceded first with relatively little resistance from the central government in Belgrade, but Croatia’s declaration of secession revived old tensions between Serbs and Croats, and the resulting war in Croatia lasted from 1991 till 1995 (Glenny 1999; Kenney 2006). These tensions manifested in the form of genocide, the realignment of state boundaries, and the creation of governments with nationalist agendas.

Croatian Independence and a European Future

After the dissolution of Yugoslavia, leaders of the newly independent republics focused their attention on promoting a new nationalism, which drew on historical symbols and memories, as well as the importance of linguistic differences to foster a belief in ethnic difference. Croatia’s first president, Franjo Tuđman, emphasized the importance of Croat history and culture in forming a Croatian identity. A historian, Tuđman wrote several books defending Croatia’s right to form an independent nation-state, and oversaw the expulsion of thousands of Serbs and other non-Croat minorities from Croatia’s borders during the independence wars. He was also a proponent of expanding Croatia’s borders into Croat dominated areas of Bosnia-Herzegovina.

Ethnic and national difference still produce tensions throughout Croatia and the broader region. On one hand, the ethnic question in Croatia was solved through the war, and the ethnic cleansing of minority populations from Croatia’s borders. This meant that following the Dayton

Peace Accords, there was little reason to discuss multi-ethnic power sharing (unlike in Bosnia-

Herzegovina, where Croats, Serbs, and Bosnjaks must be represented equally in government).3

Instead, the EU and International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) have encouraged the Croatian state to address and deal with ongoing ethnic tensions and disparities.

The reconciliation process has also been driven by the Croatian state, which continues to struggle with nationalist and populist rhetoric, but has made important strides in the processes of repairing ethnic relations, supporting democratic reform, and implementing economic development measures. Still, institutional change is often easier than cultural change, and in the daily lived experience of many Croats, ethnicity is still a powerful marker for identifying cultural and other “essential” differences.

Such ideas about differences emerge through mundane practices throughout the country, such as in places like the tržnice. Market users and vendors use ethnicity to make decisions about which practices and people belong in the tržnice. For example, I spoke with a fellow expat researcher, who was working in Serbia, but visiting Zagreb. A tržnice vendor reminded them, not so politely, “We do not speak Serbian here”.4 These kinds of interactions highlight how the tržnice act as important sites for negotiating the meanings of being and belonging in Croatia, as well as Europe.

3 In 1991, more than 12% (some 580,000 people) of Croatia’s population identified themselves as Serbian. Within a single decade, that number dropped to a little over 4% (a little over 200,000 people). There is a similar trend in the overall minority population, which comprised nearly 10% in 1991, and dropped almost half to a little over 5% by 2001 (Croatian Bureau of Statistics 2009). 4 Bosnian, Croatian, and Serbian are mutually intelligible languages that were taught as Serbo-Croatian in the Yugoslav Era. The biggest linguistic differences lie in dialect and the Serbian use of Cyrillic, compared with the Croatian use of the Latin alphabet. Post-independence, there has been a deliberate attempt by the Croatian state to institutionalize linguistic differences. For example, young Croats are no longer taught Cyrillic, and rather than using common names for the Roman calendar (i.e. Januar, Decembar), Croatia introduced terms based in old Slavonic that refer to times of planting and harvest. The use of one language over the other has become increasingly politicized.

Balancing Modernization and Tradition in the Tržnice

In both a historical and contemporary sense, the tržnice offer a unique opportunity to examine the complicated relationship between modernization and tradition in the processes of

Croatian nation and state-building, as well as Europeanization. Open-air markets have a rich history in Europe. Markets have historically played a central role in public life in European cities, and are often attached to a public square. In Catholic countries, the square, market, church, and governmental and administrative institutions often occupy the same or very close geographic spaces. This pattern of the public square as a central component to European urban design was also introduced in colonial urban centers. Markets and by extension, the public square, are part of a physical space shaped by historical importance and marked by class, ethnic, religious, and gender dynamics. The public square is also a space where communities engage in political, social, and economic activities (Low 2000). As such, the tržnice represents an ideal “site” in

Zagreb for examining the processes of Europeanization as a geographic as well as a social process of integration and conflict.

Market users, vendors, and the Croatian state construct the tržnice as places of tradition.

Market vendors seeking to resist new regulations, argue that measures are costly, and interfere with traditional practices, such as informal bargaining (see Chapter 3). The tržnice as traditional is also a powerful discourse in how consumers use these spaces, sometimes seeking out the most

‘authentic’ and ‘traditional’ vendors (Chapter 2). In many ways, traditional practices in the tržnice align with the meanings of being and belonging in Croatia.

Despite the nostalgic associations with the tržnice, there is, and has always been, a connection between these spaces and the processes of economic development and modernization.

This dissertation examines the legislative and cultural changes resulting from EU integration, as

well as the increase in competition currently facing the tržnice. A history of the tržnice in Zagreb also reveals the complicated relationship between the perceived traditional practices of these spaces and forces of development and modernization. The development of many of the larger centrally located tržnice in Zagreb is tied to the growth and development of the city. For example, the development of the Dolac parallels the process of urban development and modernization.

During the medieval era, Zagreb’s old town consisted of two independent towns, Kaptol and Gradec. Gradec was secular, while the Catholic archbishop administered Kaptol. During their separation, open-air markets existed in both towns, and after their unification in 1850, a central Zagreb market was built in front of the cathedral in the heart of Kaptol. By the end of the century, the market moved to Zagreb’s central square, Trg Ban Jelačić (Tržnice Zagreb 2011).

During this time, farmers from villages surrounding Zagreb traveled to the city to sell their wares. It is during this time that the tržnice begin to establish the connections to rural and traditional life that have given the spaces such cultural importance in contemporary Croatia.

The market remained on the square until plans to formalize a space in the city center emerged in the early twentieth century. Construction on the Dolac took place from 1928 to 1930, steps away from Trg Ban Jelačić. The Dolac is structured much like other public markets in

Europe, with an open plaza space for market vendors, but also enclosed spaces for a fish market and an underground space containing refrigerators and retail space for wholesalers, butchers, etc.

(Figure 1.1). Other large markets in the city would take a similar format, with established formalized spaces and modern infrastructure to allow the tržnice to grow alongside a growing city.

The presence of retailers, infrastructure, and technology (like refrigerators), seems to conflict with the sense that the tržnice are solely traditional spaces. Instead, even at the time the

Dolac was built, there is already a drive to become more developed and modern within the city.

Moving the market away from the square not only formalized the market space, but opened up

Trg Ban Jelačić for the increased traffic that came with a growing Zagreb (Whiting 2011). While market infrastructure was formalized and modernized, the tržnice were also being institutionalized. The city assembly established Tržnice Zagreb (Zagreb Markets) to administer the market spaces, including the Dolac, and other central markets in Kvatrić, Trešnjevka, and

Branimirova. Today, Tržnice Zagreb is a subsidiary of Zagrebački Holding, which oversees public transportation, utilities and trash collection within the city.

After WWII, the presence of tržnice around Zagreb increased along with the size of the city. As in many socialist or communist regimes, urbanization and industrialization were key goals of economic development in Yugoslavia. As more people migrated from the countryside to

Zagreb, the city established more tržnice in residential neighborhoods to meet the needs of a growing urban population. The presence of open-air markets in urban residential areas provided a familiar space for rural populations, who were new to city life. Yet, the creation of these tržnice lie less in tradition, but rather in urban development and economic modernization.

Today, Tržnice Zagreb oversees all of Zagreb’s twenty-two tržnice, but as I will discuss in later chapters, not all markets are as large or as successful as the central Dolac. The processes of Europeanization, increased competition, and changing consumer preferences continue to alter these spaces. However, Tržnice Zagreb argues that the original meaning of the tržnice still stands, “Markets are the only place in town where you can confidently buy fresh local products, fruits and vegetables, cottage cheese and sour cream, high-quality fresh fish, meat and meat

products, and various products which we remember from the stories of our grandmothers”

(Tržnice Zagreb 2011).

Understanding the complicated relationships between the processes of Europeanization, the historic spaces of the tržnice, and the changing daily practices of the people interacting with them requires a theoretical framework that lies at the intersections of several bodies of work. In this dissertation, I am drawing from and contributing to works in feminist political geography, theories of the nation and nationalism, and theories of development. In the next section, I review each of these bodies of work, to situate the scholarly contributions of this dissertation.

Theoretical Framework: The (Re)production of Identity through Development and Daily Practices

I argue in this dissertation that for many, being ‘Croatian’ and ‘European’ is synonymous with ‘tradition’ and ‘modernity’, respectively. During Croatia’s process of Europeanization,

Croats have expressed a certain degree of territoriality over spaces and practices seen to capture traditional values. Simultaneously, individuals and the state use new legislation and daily practices to discipline or eliminate practices that are seen as a threat to Croatian state development and/or EU integration This gives the impression that ‘European’ and ‘Croatian’ practices exist in opposition to one another. My analysis of the process of EU integration in the tržnice reveals a much more complicated picture.

My conversations with market users reveal that while certain practices are held up as more authentic to Croatian or European lifestyles than others, there are some practices that blur the lines between these multiple senses of belonging. The ideal tržnice vendor, the kumica, represents both Croatian and European ideals, histories, and ways of life. Even corporate chains attempt to represent these ideals by positioning themselves geographically in relation to the

tržnice, and discursively in relation to the ideals of ‘unity in diversity’. It then becomes clear that instead of simply existing in opposition to one another, the meanings of being Croatian or

European are (re)produced in relation to one another.

I draw on several bodies of literature to explain the significance of this (re)production: development, nationalism and national identity, and the production of identity through daily practice. In this section, I briefly review the major perspectives in each of these bodies of work, and explain how, taken on their own, each of these framings only offers a partial view of how communities negotiate and experience the process of EU integration in Croatia. Instead, I offer a theoretical framing that lies at the intersection of these bodies of work to show how the striving for development and the production of a national identity are co-constituted through multi-scalar interactions between daily practices, statecraft, and the political economic forces of globalization and Europeanization. This intersectional theoretical framework allows me to rethink ‘scale’ and

‘development’ as integral components to understanding the various tensions and contradictions present in Croatia’s process of EU integration.

Identity Production in the EU: Europeanization as Development

The literature on European institutions and the EU has debated the various meanings of

‘Europeanization’. Europeanization should not be equated solely with EU membership, as states in Europe can become more ‘European’ without being EU members, and EU members can resist the processes of becoming more ‘European’ (Borneman and Fowler 1997: 492). Europeanization is not just the process by which the EU creates specific policies, institutions, and processes

(Featherstone 2009). Instead, it is useful to consider Europeanization as ‘both a vision and a process’ (Borneman and Fowler 1997) whereby states adapt to the EU in a domestic arena

(Featherstone 2009). In other words, Europeanization is the process by which states seek to become more ‘European’; a term increasingly defined by the politics and policies of the EU, but still interpreted and negotiated at the scale of the state.

The same can be said for the process by which states seek to become more ‘developed’; a term that has been historically defined by the global development project, and global development organizations (i.e. UNDP, IMF, IDA). In fact, there are many parallels between the history and function of the EU and that of the global development project. Both are a result of the post-WWII drive toward economic prosperity and political stability. Enlightenment ideals of modernization and progress influence both, and each project has struggled with the tensions between global systems, state sovereignty, and local identities and practices. Yet, the global development project has historically focused on the ability of the ‘underdeveloped’ portions of the world (usually viewed as post-colonial Africa, Asia, and Latin America) to catch up to the

‘advanced’ West (Europe and the US) (Escobar 1995). The very idea that Europe is in a process of development therefore seems counterintuitive. However, contextualizing Europeanization as development reveals how Europe’s geographic imaginaries and the processes of EU integration are indicative of the continual challenges faced in reconciling ‘European’ goals with state power, lived experience, and geographic difference.

Europeanization as development is present in the Copenhagen Criteria, which promotes progress and modernization through the spread of institutions that support human rights, democratic process, and economic stability through the promotion of the expansion of neoliberal free-market capitalism (European Commission 2016). Marxist theorists have exposed the prevalence of equating economic production with development (Peet and Hartwick 1999), and

David Harvey (2007) famously traced the rise of neoliberalism as a political-economic project

through the state supported expansion of capital, free-trade, and the creation of markets where they did not previously exist. As Harvey argues, neoliberalism leads to an accumulation by dispossession, where wealth is placed into the hands of an international financial class by stripping it away from the hands of the world’s impoverished majorities; notably through the stripping away of public services and funds and the promotion of privatization as a path toward growth and innovation.

In this dissertation, I demonstrate how the EU has supported a neoliberal vision of

‘Europe’, whereby states must open their borders to facilitate a greater flow of capital, and monitor economic activities for the purposes of regulating labor. These demands are an opportunity for states to demonstrate their ‘European-ness’ and act in the interests of a regional

‘greater good’. These economic processes can threaten local livelihood practices by seeking to

(b)order those things that do not meet ‘European’ standards.

Despite the assertion that the EU is building a community united in diversity, the process of Europeanization is fraught with assumptions that some places in the region are more developed, more stable, and more deserving of membership. While it is hard to disagree that the

EU has struggled more for its inclusion of countries in economic crises (i.e. Greece) or transitions (i.e. former eastern bloc states), many of the assumptions regarding who is developed and EU worthy are based in the geographic imaginaries that I discussed above. The EU drew on discourses of Balkanism when celebrating Croatia’s entrance to the EU. In 2004, The European

Commission framed Croatia’s negotiation process in terms of it leaving behind its unstable past, and joining the prosperity of the EU:

“The Croatian application for membership is part of an historic process, in which the Western Balkan countries are overcoming the political crisis of their region and orienting themselves to join the area of peace, stability and prosperity created by the Union…the pace of further movement of the Western Balkans countries towards the EU lies in their

own hands and will depend on each country’s performance in implementing reforms…” (Commission of the European Communities 2004:44).

The process of joining the EU not only represented a move for Croatia from its complicated Balkan roots, to the more developed Union. It also marked an important transition for the region, with Croatia leading the way for other Western Balkan states. This language feeds into the already existing power dynamics between Croatia and other former Yugoslav Republics.

The sentiment that Croatia’s integration with the EU represents progress and development from being Balkan, to being European was also not lost on Croatian citizens, who at many times during my research spoke to me regarding the country’s ‘Balkan mentality’, and a desire to be recognized for what they always had been, Europeans (Titanski 2010).

While I have already discussed how ‘Europe’ has imagined an ‘other’ in the Balkans, an argument can also be made for how Croatia and the Balkans have imagined Europe. Ethno- national conflict in the region has led to an imagining of ‘Europe’ as a peaceful and prosperous ideal. Croatian author and journalist, Slavenka Drakulić has suggested that the experiences of communism and ethnic conflict in the Balkans and Eastern Europe have contributed to the creation of a mythological Europe:

“It seems to me that a part of the tragedy of the Bosnians lies in their belief that Europe is what it is not. Europe did not intervene, it did not save them, because there was no Europe to intervene. They saw a ghost. It was us, the Eastern Europeans, who invented ‘Europe’, constructed it, dreamed about it, called upon it. This Europe is a myth created by us, not only Bosnians, but other Eastern Europeans, too –unfortunate outsiders, poor relatives, the infantile nations of our continent. Europe was built by those of us living on the edges, because it is only from there that you would have the need to imagine something like ‘Europe’ to save you from your complexes, insecurities and fears. Because for us, the people from the Balkans, the biggest fear is to be left alone with each other. We have learned better than others what you do to your own brother” (Drakulić 1996: 212).

A European imaginary then becomes something that is not just desirable, but also necessary.

Becoming ‘European’ offers a sense of being and belonging that holds promise for those looking to leave behind a past of violence and struggle. As Drakulić points out, however, this imaginary

is just that, imagined. Becoming ‘European’ does bring change, but not all of it progressive and beneficial. In Croatia, the people who support EU integration do so despite these concerns.

For all these reasons, I argue that achieving “development” in the European context does not only lead to the destruction of local identities and practices, nor to the unified resistance to these changes by local populations. Instead, European development and integration is also something that communities may seek to embody, by both acknowledging the way their existing economic and cultural practices fit within the larger European context, and willingly making sacrifices to these practices to become more modern, developed, and European.

To better understand the importance of being ‘European’ in Croatia, and how it exists in tension with the meanings of being Croatian, I next want to turn to a review of the theoretical perspectives on the nation, nationalism, and state-building with an emphasis on these processes in Croatia and the former Yugoslavia. Southeastern Europe’s complicated history of being the other within, the ongoing struggle for self-determination throughout the region, and the recent legacy of war and ethnic violence have all contributed to the sense that being ‘European’ in

Croatia is almost as important as being recognized as a sovereign state and nation.

Identity Production in Croatia and the Former Yugoslavia: Traditional and Feminist Geopolitics in the Creation of Borders and Belonging

Traditional geopolitical conceptualizations of borders, boundaries, and belonging have offered a powerful, yet limiting, view of the relationship between state and nation as entities that are linked through the formation of the idealized “nation-state.” Nira Yuval-Davis, a sociologist, offered a comprehensive critique of this perspective by highlighting that:

“The concept of the ‘nation-state’ assumes a complete correspondence between the boundaries of the nation and the boundaries of those who live in a specific state. This, of course, is virtually everywhere a fiction. There are always people living in particular societies and states who are not considered to be (and often do not consider themselves to

be) members of the hegemonic nation, there are members of national collectivities who live in other countries, and there are nations which never had a state (like the Palestinians) or which are divided across several states (like the Kurds). However this fiction has been at the basis of nationalist ideologies” (1997:11).

Analyses of changing borders and boundaries have traditionally privileged the role of the state as the basic geographic entity by which nations are contained. These assertions have had real political implications, particularly during the periods of both world wars, during the processes of decolonization in the developing world, and in framing discussions of ethno-national conflicts in places like the former Yugoslavia.

The work of geographers, like Friedrich Ratzel (1896) who claimed that states were organic territorial units that naturally needed to expand for resources, was used to justify the imperial ambitions of leaders in Europe, perhaps most notably in Nazi Germany. Further, the historical assumption that ‘nation-states’ are synonymous with modernity (Sassen 2006) has led to the deliberate creation of states where imperial territories were once located. At the end of

WWI, new borders were created where former European empires existed, but little thought was given to the mixed populations living in those new states. The reverse happened in Europe after

WWII. For the most part, physical borders remained unchanged, but to create the link between the nation and state, large minorities, particularly in Eastern Europe, were moved to create homogenous European ‘nation-states’ (Judt 2006: 27). Similar processes occurred during decolonization in Africa, Latin America, and Asia.

In theorizing the nation, scholars have assumed the seemingly hegemonic power of states in creating a sense of belonging in populations. Hobsbawm defined nationalism as a modern

“political programme” that promotes the idea of nations having a right to form autonomous and territorial states (2000: 256). Ernest Gellner argued that the nation-state is a false geographic entity designed to support industrial production. To be a successful political entity, the state

requires a homogenous culture, or ‘nationalism’, to standardize the rules for industrial expansion, production, and employment (Gellner 2000: 98-145). In privileging the connection between the

‘nation’ and the ‘state’, these works fall into John Agnew’s (1994) “territorial trap,” which warns against viewing the state as a sovereign unit that contains society.

Other theorists have considered the nation as existing outside the boundaries of the state, but still assume the presence of some territorial striving as well as a homogenous experience of what it means to belong to a nation. Benedict Anderson (1983) argued that nations are rooted in the modernist era, and are imagined through language and discourse as limited, sovereign, and as a community. Anthony D. Smith (1996) proposed a greater examination of the pre-modern origins of ethnic communities and nations to understand the relationship between culture, politics, and the violence that nations produce. He defined an ethnic community as sharing an alleged common ancestry, culture, and a specific link to territory; a nation as a population sharing a territory, common myths and historical memories, culture, economy, and legal rights and duties; and nationalism as a movement for autonomy, unity, and identity by a population who believe they share a nation (447).

Post-colonial scholars, like Partha Chatterjee (1995) examined how post-colonial movements specifically try to define their nation-ness in terms that oppose existing Western traditions. He saw anti-colonial movements as creating sovereignty by separating the material, economic and technological arenas where the West excels, from the spiritual, or cultural identities often formed in opposition to the West. This binary is useful when considering the EU.

Members and potential members strive to match the material processes that the EU is believed to excel at; while still maintaining their spiritual, or cultural, sovereignty. Chatterjee opens the

discussion of nationalism to the post-colonial experience, but still neglects to fully appreciate how the national experience contains competing meanings of belonging.

Traditional geopolitical understandings of the nation as equated with territory, language, and ethnicity reveal how national striving or belonging is rooted in the political as much as in the cultural. These perspectives have been valuable in understanding (and inadvertently promoting) the use of violence by nationalist movements and political elites who seek the creation of homogenous territories for their respective national communities. Examples of these processes abound in Southeastern Europe’s processes nation and state-building. Yugoslavia was built on the ideals of Pan-Slavism. Croatian national movements were legitimized by drawing on the existence of a medieval kingdom. The Ustaše used the desire to create a homogenous national territory to justify the murder of non-Croat minorities. Leaders, like Franjo Tuđman (1996), justified nationalist ambitions by drawing on the right of all nations to self-determination, statehood, and sovereignty. And, during the war in the 1990s, the desire to unite individual ethnic groups justified territorial expansion and the ethnic cleansing of minorities.

Interventions by feminist and critical scholars in the studies of the nation and nationalism have provided opportunities to analyze the homogenizing powers of state and nation-building in relation to the making of social identities and the ideas of essential difference that underpin them.

Feminist scholars have made great strides to understand how the nation is a social construction performed, experienced, defined and situated according to multiple identities (i.e. race, gender, ethnicity, class, religion) (Kofman 2005), and have revealed the importance of gendering any analysis of the production of the nation. McClintock (1993) suggest a feminist theory of nationalism that involves: “…investigating the gendered formation of sanctioned male theories; bringing into historical visibility women’s active cultural and political participation in national

formations; bringing nationalist institutions, while at the same time paying scrupulous attention to the structures of racial, ethnic and class power that continue to bedevil privileged forms of feminism” (63).

Feminist scholars have also explored how the nation produces gendered roles for men and women. Banerjee (2005) examined the role of masculinity and religion in the construction of

Indian nationalism. Yuval-Davis’s critical work analyzed the roles that women play in nationalist politics by acting as “biological reproducers of the members of national collectivities, as reproducers of the boundaries of national groups (through restrictions on sexual or marital relations), as active transmitters and producers of the national culture, as symbolic signifiers of national difference, and as active participants in national struggles” (Yuval-Davis and Anthias

1989: 7). While men are often perceived as the heroes or defenders of the nation, women are viewed as the object to be protected, and the embodiment of the nation. Women may reproduce the nation, but men often define it both ethnically and culturally.

The recognition of the nation and nationalism as gendered practice has revealed the ways in which gender often determines boundaries, as well as the ways that gender can be used to transgress them. Lori Handrahan (2004) examined how boundaries are influenced by gender in post-war setting, arguing that a woman may act as “a boundary-marker for male-defined collective ethnic identity, and only enjoys her ethnicity as long as she remains inside and adheres to the ‘boundaries’ of ethnicity assessed by male ethnic leaders” (438). When women reproduce the social norms and expectations associated with their national or ethnic identity, their bodies become the boundaries and borders of the nation itself.

Feminist geographers have extended these important feminist interventions into geopolitics and social different demonstrate how daily practices over identity shape political,

economic, and social practices across geographic scale. These perspectives have influenced discussions of borders and boundaries by revealing the ways that boundaries can be legitimized, reproduced, and even transgressed through the mundane acts of the everyday. Cynthia Enloe’s

(2007) work on militarism draws attention to the ways that daily practices influence social norms. Lorraine Dowler’s (2001) work in Northern Ireland demonstrates how the physical and discursive boundaries of Belfast were both upheld by people who would not cross the peaceline, while these boundaries were simultaneously transgressed by taxi drivers who crossed the line with their fares or by women who crossed the line to shop. In its ability to transgress private and public spaces, the body is involved in a process that Jennifer Fluri (2011) calls ‘corporeal modernity’, where it acts as a site of socio-political representation. Individuals reproduce the norms and expectations of boundaries and the nation through daily practices (i.e. dress), or conversely, may use their body to challenge the norms of the nation.

Feminist interventions into the study of daily practices, as well as the study of nation- building, state-building, and nationalism, challenge assumptions about borders, boundaries, and belonging. The scale of the state is no longer the primary site for analysis. Identities and boundaries are performed and constructed through the co-constitution of the local, national, and global scales, through the domains of private and public spaces, and through experiences and practices performed at the scale of the body. Gender, race, class, religion, ethnicity, and national identity all work through a process of intersectionality to produce the differentiated experiences and practices of the nation, while the body acts as the scale where norms are (re)produced.

In the same vein, feminist and critical scholars have sought to examine the ways development and the political economy is experienced, challenged, and (re)created through everyday practices (Fluri 2011; Hart 2006; Katz 2004; Scott 1987; Wolford 2008; Wright, 2006).

These contributions have challenged our understandings of what it means to resist development and the expansion of global capital from the bottom-up, and are careful to recognize how the experiences of these processes are situated according to gender, race, class, age, nationality, etc.

These processes are at work in countless ways in the process of EU integration in Croatia.

The architects of the Croatian state have strategically negotiated the tensions between ethnic and national, as well as regional senses of belonging (i.e. being Balkan, Yugoslav, European) in the interest of state sovereignty and self-determination. However, it has been the everyday actions performed by communities that have both challenged and empowered these discourses and boundaries. During the wars of the 1990s, communities and neighbors had to choose their allegiances, which many times reinforced the kinds of ethno-national violence supported by the emerging states and militias of what would become the former Yugoslavia. However, there are just as many examples of individuals and communities resisting this violence to protect their families and friends. Today, ethnic discrimination is still pervasive, but the acts of crossing borders, communicating across increasingly complicated language barriers, or forming/keeping relationships across ethnic divides, are examples of how individuals and communities (re)shape the role of nationalism and national identity from the bottom-up. These challenges to identity are further complicated when considering the meanings of being and belonging in Europe.

While it is up to the Croatian state to interpret European values in the construction of new legislation, the way that people choose to accept, resist, and/or participate in these changes is reflective of how development is (re)created from the ‘bottom-up’. Through their changing interactions with the tržnice and corporate chains, and the degree to which they have embraced and participated in legislative change, like fiscalization, people in Zagreb have managed to both embrace aspects of being ‘European’, while also preserving certain cultural practices and

Croatian ideals. Croatia’s integration with the EU demonstrates how the lines between being, belonging, and the processes of development become so blurred as to be inextricably linked.

Tying it all together: Interventions in Political and Development Geographies

This dissertation offers several opportunities for intervention in the fields of political geography and development geography. At the beginning of this section, I explained how this dissertation is creating an intervention in development studies by revealing the ways that communities and individuals may conceive of the processes of being and becoming ‘developed’ as something to be desired; as a goal to achieve. This contrasts with much of the literature on development, which focuses heavily on the ways that communities may resist the processes of development as forces that threaten and destroy local practices. In its function as a development project, the EU can threaten local sovereignties, but it also represents an ideal community that many people desire to belong to, just as much as they may fear or resist the change it brings.

My analysis also offers a contradictory view of the goals of the global development project. The terms of the ‘Washington Consensus’ promoted by the World Bank and the IMF in the developing world were strictly framed around neoliberal policies of privatization, free trade, and deregulation. In some ways, EU fiscal policy mimics these standards by encouraging regional trade liberalization and the reduction of national debt through privatization. However, my analysis of the changes facing the tržnice demonstrates how the processes of Europeanization have also (re)shaped the meanings of development. ‘Unity in diversity’ allows for a more situated view of fiscal responsibility and development that is decided by state and local governments, and negotiated in communities. Where, when, and how development happens is impacted by space, scale, and identity.

The desire to belong in ‘Europe’ and to become ‘European’ and ‘developed’ reveals the second theoretical contribution that I offer in this dissertation: that the processes of nation- building and nationalism may transcend the debates of ethnic, racial, and national belonging at the scale of the body, community, or state. Rather, in attempting to create unity through diversity, the EU also seems to be reinventing a ‘European’ nation of sorts. The EU has been conceptualized as the result of a rejection of nationalism and a move towards transnational cosmopolitanism (Rumford 2005), but I suggest a different interpretation.

The processes of Europeanization represent a clear politics of belonging that defines “the who, what, and where” of Europe. There is a distinct connection to territory, and the spaces, places, and boundaries of Europe. The establishment of the Schengen Area, the selection and acceptance of candidate countries, and even the most recent creation of fences and walls in EU border-states (most notably in Hungary as a response to the Syrian refugee crisis) are all representative of the ways that the EU has imagined the geographies of the European continent.

Through its territorial striving and the promotion of specific ‘European’ practices, the EU is involved in a process of nation-building that calls, once again, for a rethinking of the processes of nation-building and nationalism as they may occur in transnational or supranational spaces. I argue that the supranational belonging promoted by the EU calls as much for the entrenchment of boundaries and values, as for their dissolution. In many ways, the EU is involved in a process of ‘European’ nation and state-building at a regional/global level, in very much the same way that Yugoslavia experimented with a regional Slavic identity.5 This dissertation demonstrates how the boundaries and practices of an imagined European community are (re)produced and resisted through the daily practices and interactions of people in Zagreb and the tržnice.

5 This line of thinking was not lost on people in Croatia. It was not uncommon to hear the EU discussed and represented as just another version of Yugoslavia (Figure 1.2).

In these ways, this dissertation offers an important intervention into the already diverse body of literature on scale in feminist geopolitics. Geographers conceptualize scale as both a spatial and temporal site and framework of analysis. As I have shown throughout this chapter, feminist political geographers complicate the meanings of scale by conceptualizing geographic methods and questions from the bottom-up, as well as top-down. My analysis adds to this conversation by exposing the linkages and contradictions of where and how identities are built, contested, and (re)shaped. The meanings of being ‘Croatian’ and ‘European’ are not just decided from the bottom-up or top-down. Both of these identities are negotiated and formed between and across scale. This dissertation contributes to a more complicated visualization of scale that connects nation and state-building through and across scales of the body, community, state, and supranational institutions.

Lastly, this dissertation bridges the gap between the sub-disciplines of political geography and development geography. Within geography, these sub-disciplines are often seen as taking divergent ontological lenses. “The field of political geography is broad, covering myriad topics including nationalism, territory, elections, trade, state institutions, citizenship, resistance, social movements, and quotidian political practices and identities” (Staeheli, 2004: 2).

Development geography analyzes global development as a complex, contradictory project of economic, social, and cultural progress, and its implications across space and scale and between humans and the environment (Peet and Hartwick 1999).

These ontological roots, and particularly traditional political geography’s involvement with statecraft, have given the impression that there is little overlap between these two sub- disciplines. However, the processes of development are inherently political. Therefore, the continual insistence on viewing these sub-disciplines as unrelated ultimately weakens them both.

This dissertation offers a framing for understanding the fluid disciplinary boundaries between political and development geographies.

Methods and Methodology

Before turning to my empirics, I want to take the time to explain my methods and methodology. This dissertation research is based on fieldwork conducted in Zagreb, Croatia over a ten-month period between September 2012 and July 2013, as well as a short follow-up trip in

May 2014. I used ethnographic methods to understand how people in Zagreb navigate the tržnice daily, in what ways tržnice practices are tied to practices of ethnic and national identity, and how changing consumer practices, combined with legislative change related to the process of

Europeanization, are impacting the landscape of the tržnice. I collected data through participant observation, completed semi-structured interviews with 24 people, and conducted informal conversations with well over 100 individuals. These research methods draw on a feminist political geography framework.

Positionality and Reflexivity

A feminist methodological approach insists on the careful consideration of the researcher as inextricably linked to the research process. Donna Haraway (1988) famously discussed the relationship between the researcher and the research process as the production of ‘situated knowledges’. The questions that researchers choose to examine and the methods and modes of analyses employed are informed by a researcher’s own positions, background, and knowledge, as well as their relationship to the research subjects. All knowledge produced through the research process is therefore inherently partial and situated according to these biases. Recognizing a

researcher’s positionality does not make research outcomes any less valid. Instead, a feminist methodological approach argues that this recognition, through a process of critical reflexivity, enriches the research process, if the researcher can acknowledge their own positions, biases, and limitations (see England 1994; Rose 1997).

My previous experiences in Croatia, and my position as a Fulbright scholar afforded me some privileges, giving me access to elements of the community where I might have otherwise been excluded. I also faced limitations, due to my position as a cultural and linguistic outsider.

The personal relationships and connections that I have developed in Croatia over the last eight years impacted my research. I want to take the time to discuss these relationships, as they have influenced the story I tell in this dissertation, which offers a rich, yet partial view of the experience of EU integration in the tržnice.

I visited Croatia for the first time in 2008, while I was completing my B.S. in secondary education at Lock Haven University of Pennsylvania. I taught English and sociology at a private high school in Zagreb. For two months, I taught in Zagreb, and formed a few close relationships that remain important to me to this day. This trip was the first and last time that I visited Croatia until I embarked on this dissertation research in 2012. But, in those years I was absent, I did my best to maintain existing relationships, and to form new ones through online surveys that I collected for my M.A. research, conducted at West Virginia University in 2009. My closest

Croatian friend even came to visit me in the US, and to this friend, I am immensely grateful.

When I told her that I would be returning to Croatia, without hesitation, she offered her home to me for the duration of my fieldwork.

Living with a Zagreb native gave me a more intimate experience of the city. My friend and her parents welcomed me to their family. I always had somewhere to go for holidays, home

cooked meals on the weekends, and I avoided much of the culture shock experienced by other researchers living abroad. I had a built-in support system that helped me navigate the unfamiliar terrain of the city in everything from knowing where to shop for toiletries, to the notoriously bureaucratic process of filing for a residency permit. I was rarely lonely, and in some small way I was made to feel like an insider. My friend and her family introduced me to extended family and friends, invited me along to private gatherings, and showed me less accessible parts of the city.

This research and my personal experience in Zagreb benefited greatly from the support of my Zagreb family. It can be hard to form long-term friendships with Croats. This is not because people are unfriendly, or unwilling. Instead, it seems to me that friendship in Croatia is difficult

(particularly for outsiders), because Croats place these relationships in high regard, and do not enter them lightly. Even though Zagreb is a city of around one million, friendships form early on according to familial connections and neighborhood and school belonging. As an outsider, geographically, linguistically, and culturally, living in Croatia could have been a very isolating experience. A friend of mine, an American expat, a professor of political science and an acclaimed author in Zagreb, noted that even though his wife is a Croat, he is nearly fluent in

Croatian, and he had been living in the country for several years, he still found it difficult to form friendships. He was surprised that I had managed to foster any close relationships.

Still, doing research in Zagreb came with challenges. My personal relationships did not necessarily help me to recruit research participants, especially those who could provide me with information about the tržnice. In the early stages of this research, I had hoped to speak with vendors. I envisioned making contact with a few individuals, who would become my key informants, and slowly but surely gaining access to a wide variety of vendors. I imagined

structured interviews, with voice recorders, perhaps in the office space that was generously offered to me by my Fulbright faculty sponsor at the University of Zagreb.

Within just a few days of arriving, I realized just how much I was going to have to adjust these expectations. My roommate aptly warned, “those people don’t speak your language,” when

I mentioned my desire to speak with vendors. This loaded statement draws attention to the assumptions that the tržnice are filled with rural, traditional vendors, who are perhaps uneducated in as much as they do not speak English. I would later find that many vendors in the tržnice do speak at least some English or German, but she made her point. I was not as prepared to access the population of tržnice vendors as I had hoped.

Prior to beginning my fieldwork, The University of Pittsburgh awarded me two Foreign

Language Area Studies (FLAS) Grants to study Croatian. In two intensive summer sessions, I received the equivalent of two years of formal language training. I have a very limited working proficiency of the language, which limited the people that I could speak with during interviews or informal conversations. My training benefited me in my daily interactions in the city, and my language skills certainly improved over my time in the field. However, my skills were not strong enough to conduct interviews entirely in Croatian. On occasion, a friend or acquaintance would sit in on a meeting to translate or assist when the language barrier was too great. But, often, I could communicate with people in Zagreb almost entirely in English. English is widely-spoken, and many people wanted the opportunity to practice their conversational skills. The ability to begin conversing in Croatian, or fill in the gaps when someone was struggling with their English was often enough to make my research participants comfortable. Still, when it came to most vendors in the tržnice, Croatian was the preferred language. My skills were not strong enough to build the necessary trust and rapport.

I also encountered certain cultural barriers in how I anticipated my interactions with research participants would take place. Armed with my IRB approved consent forms, business cards, and voice recorder, I imagined my interviews would be conducted in a semi-formal setting, at the University of Zagreb, or perhaps in the home of a participant. However, I quickly learned that Croatian culture called for a far more informal approach. The history of Austro-

Hungarian and Ottoman influence in Southeastern Europe has contributed to a vibrant coffee culture. No matter the time of day, or day of the week, you can find any one of Zagreb’s many outdoor cafes bustling with people. New friends, old friends, and business associates all meet over coffee, and one espresso can last several hours. Rather than saying, ‘let’s meet for a drink’ or ‘we should get together’, the common phrase, ‘Idemo na kavu’ (Let’s go for coffee), perhaps says it all. Most of my semi-structured interviews occurred over coffee in a cafe.

The informality of meeting in a cafe meant I had to be deliberate about acknowledging my role as a researcher, and addressing the goals of my research project. I explain this more below. It also made the use of a voice recorder disruptive. I found myself taking minimal notes during interviews, only to elaborate on them in my field journal after a meeting was over. This ultimately changed how I decided to write up my research. Throughout this dissertation, I draw on quotes, anecdotes, and stories told to me by research participants, but in the interest of protecting my participants and the informal meetings that we often had, I am vague about participant identities and provide little to no identifying information.

In addition to these methodological considerations, my position as a cultural and linguistic outsider also led me to shift my research questions. When beginning my research, even shopping at the tržnice an intimidating experience. Since I was unable to talk with most vendors in a meaningful way, I became increasingly interested in how consumers did or did not interact

with the tržnice in their daily lives. With this shift, my observations began to take on new meaning, and my interviews seemed to be able to begin in earnest.

In addition to critical reflexivity, a feminist political geography framework emphasizes the importance of multi-scalar analyses that connect processes happening on-the-ground to those happening at other scales. A feminist political geography approach to on-the-ground research exposes the ways that political processes are experienced, created, and contested in less commonly examined places, such as the spaces of the home and at the scale of the body, as well as in the spaces of formal politics and other geographic scales (i.e. the state). I use a multi-scalar, on-the-ground perspective to connect the changing practices surrounding the tržnice to economic and identity production at the scale of the state and the EU.

Triangulating is an effective way to negotiate the complicated relationships revealed through multi-scalar research. Triangulation may involve the use of both quantitative and qualitative methods, or the collection of data from multiple sources (for example, government documents, interviews) to reveal the connections and contradictions between processes happening on-the-ground, with those happening at other scales. Multi-scalar analysis and triangulation work together to demonstrate how political phenomena are co-constituted from the local to the global and every place in-between (Sharp 2004). I triangulate across multiple data sources including: participant observation, interviews and informal conversations, and textual analysis.

Participant Observation

I collected much of the data used in this dissertation during participant observation within and outside the tržnice. I visited each tržnica in Zagreb at least once, returning to those markets

that were the most popular. I spent countless hours in cafes, sipping coffee, watching the market day progress. I attended festivals, celebrations, and protests in city squares around Zagreb to witness how social, political, and economic life was debated in public spaces. As I mentioned above, there is a strong geographic connection between public squares and the tržnice. Brief conversations with waiters, vendors, and customers about the price of coffee, new government or

EU regulations, or their motivation for attending an event clued me into all the ways that Zagreb was perceived to be changing; not just because of EU integration, but because of globalization, changes still occurring since the dissolution of Yugoslavia, and Croatia’s increasing popularity as a tourist destination. These informal conversations helped me develop questions for interviews and systematic codes for textual analysis.

I often joined friends on their shopping trips to the tržnice. My Croatian friends introduced me to their preferred vendors, pointed out traditional foods I should try, and instructed me on how to prepare them. In these instances, I was the observer, stepping aside to let my Croatian friends make the choices of what to buy and from whom. When shopping alone, I took a more active role in navigating the tržnice. I relied on my Croatian language abilities and newfound shopping skills to navigate each transaction. On more than one occasion, a vendor would call out in astonishment that they had an American customer that also spoke Croatian. In a mix of embarrassment and pride, I would finally feel like I was getting somewhere.

I attended four academic conferences, and presented papers that dealt in one way or another with questions of Croatia’s position within the EU. I conducted observations at a variety of festivals, demonstrations, and protests. My position as a Fulbright researcher also gave me access to journalists, politicians, and diplomats, which allowed me to attend events sponsored by both the Croatian and US. I also volunteered my time at the Institute for Educational

Development (Institut za Razvoj Obrazovanja), leading seminars on study abroad opportunities.

Some of my interview participants were recruited from these seminars.

Interviews and Informal Conversations

My observations turned out to be perhaps my most fruitful method of data collection.

Participant observation improved my language skills, acquainted me with the city in an intimate way, helped me to recruit research participants for interviews, and ultimately enriched the kinds of questions I pursued. Interviews and informal conversations allowed me to inquire about my own observations and experiences in more detail. During my ten months in Zagreb, I conducted

24 semi-structured interviews and had informal conversations with well over 100 people.

The people that I spoke with informally were not necessarily ethnically Croatian.

However, every single person that I interviewed identified as an ethnic Croat and was a Croatian citizen, reflecting the ethnic and political make-up of the country, more broadly. It is interesting to note, that while all my interview respondents claimed to be Croat, many of them described connections to other places in Southeastern Europe. It was very common for people to discuss their relatives in Bosnia or Serbia. This reflects the ongoing connectivity between former

Yugoslav republics, as well as the complicated nature of ethnicity and nationality in Croatia.

I had informal conversations with people of various ages and genders, but most of my interview respondents were in their 20s and 30s. Young adults were most accessible to me, because of my existing contacts in Zagreb, as well as my volunteer work at the Institute for

Educational Development. Younger groups of Croats are also more likely to speak English. This younger group of respondents has impacted my analysis. As I describe in Chapter 2, younger

Croats are less likely to use the tržnice for their daily shopping needs, and are more likely to appreciate the cultural value of these spaces.

I had intended to conduct a larger number of interviews, but as my research questions shifted, so did my approach to my methods. It was relatively easy for me to approach someone in a cafe or public square, and to engage them in conversation over their reason for attending an event or protest, or their feelings and opinions about a practice in the tržnice or new piece of EU legislation. However, these people often hesitated when I expressed interest in recruiting them for a research study. People often suggested that I speak with a professional or a university professor. They did not know why I was interested in their opinions. It was difficult to convince potential participants that I was more interested in their daily lived experiences, than in the perspective offered by political or social elites. I was more successful in meeting people informally over coffee, on a walk in the city, or on a shopping trip to the tržnice.

I also found that my most successful interviews and conversations involved more of an exchange of information than the normal question and answer format. Most of my research participants were just as interested in my perceptions and experiences of the city. Some agreed to meet with me, because they wanted the chance to practice their English. Others were curious about life in the US, and the kinds of job or study abroad opportunities that may be available to them. Some requested that we schedule a time to review their CV, or discuss their professional and educational aspirations before beginning in earnest to discuss my work. This was particularly true of the people I met while conducting seminars at the Institute for Educational Development.

This tendency for my participants to want to exchange information gave me pause. I did not want to give the impression that people had to meet with me about my work for me to also meet with them for personal or professional reasons. To address this, I tried to make my role as a

researcher as clear as possible, and opted to schedule multiple meetings with potential participants. This way, we could meet for the reasons that they wanted, and only if they were comfortable would we schedule a second meeting to conduct a more structured interview or conversation. I hoped that this would shift some of the power from me, back to the participant.

Ultimately, this allowed me to develop a stronger rapport with research participants, who felt more comfortable with me after multiple meetings. This also gave me the chance to follow up on questions or ideas that might have emerged after our initial meeting.

While informal conversations could vary in length, and be as short as a few seconds, my interviews lasted from one to two hours. Early on, the questions that I asked during interviews were somewhat broad, focusing on a participant’s hopes and apprehensions for EU integration, and what changes they had experienced. But, as I became more comfortable with the direction of my research, my interview questions became focused on how and why participants interacted with the tržnice, and sought to gauge their reaction to the implementation of new regulations, like fiscalization, or the resistance to change, like the vendors strikes. My interviews were then able to inform my observations, just as much as my observations informed my interviews.

Textual Analysis

I triangulated the findings from my observations, interviews, and informal conversations with textual analysis. During my observations, I learned to read the landscape of the tržnice and surrounding public squares as text; examining posters, graffiti, and advertisements for themes that emerged in my interactions with research participants. I followed an approach discussed by

Lorraine Dowler, et. al. (2005) which contended that analyzing the landscape does not end at an examination of visible monuments, symbols, and texts. Rather, in addition to reading the

(in)visible layers of a landscape, a researcher should analyze the embodied experience of the landscape by engaging in meaningful discussion with individuals about their feelings and experiences of the changes occurring in the landscape.

I also collected and examined formal text documents, such as EU and Croatian state documents and press releases. I examined popular Croatian news media, and print and video advertisements. I analyzed these sources qualitatively, looking for codes that were based on themes that emerged through my other methods. The findings from my textual analysis feature heavily throughout this dissertation. The themes revealed through this analysis often confirmed some of the relationships described to me by research participants, and where there were contradictions, textual analysis allowed me to tell a more nuanced and detailed story regarding the impacts and experiences of EU integration in the tržnice, and in Croatia more broadly.

Conclusion: What’s Ahead…

The rest of this dissertation is structured around three empirical chapters that explore the relationship between daily economic and identity practices and the larger political economy of

EU expansion in Croatia. Each chapter explores an aspect of cultural, political, and economic change facing Zagreb’s tržnice, and analyzes how these changes reflect broader debates about belonging in ‘Europe’. Taken together, these chapters demonstrate the complicated spatial and scalar relationships between local and transnational identities, daily economic practices, and ideas of progress and development.

Chapter 2, Finding the Real Kumica: Daily Practice and Tradition in the Tržnice, explores the daily practices and structures of the tržnice, while analyzing the importance of these sites for identity formation in the city. The chapter analyzes how market users sometimes equate

an authentic market experience with finding the ideal, rural woman vendor, known as the kumica. A sense of nostalgia surrounds the kumica, who has come to simultaneously embody the meanings of being ‘Croatian’ and ‘European’. The perceived ethnic, gendered, and traditional identity of the kumica has important implications for the preservation of some practices and identities and the disciplining and exclusion of others. The Croatian state and market users identify resellers and ethnic minorities as less desirable or inauthentic market vendors.

Chapter 3, The ‘Green Mafia’ and Fiscalization: Disciplining the Tržnice through

Development, takes up the questions of those ‘other’ or less desirable vendors, particularly as they relate to the implementation of fiscalization measures designed to minimize Croatia’s grey economy. The chapter first analyzes how fiscalization has been debated and enforced across all sectors in Croatia, before turning to the question of fiscalization in the tržnice. While corporate chains or large producers (both foreign and domestic) have had little trouble adapting to the new legislation, small producers and vendors in the tržnice argue that fiscalization threatens their livelihood security. Further, while ‘authentic’ producers, like the kumica, are given exemptions from some of the fiscalization requirements, resellers have become a target of legislative enforcement by both the state and consumers. However, the much larger processes of economic and cultural globalization, and specifically the increasing popularity of grocery store chains, and the corporatization of the spaces of the tržnice, are also changing the way people experience the tržnice, Zagreb, and being ‘Croatian’ and ‘European’.

In Chapter 4, Corporate Grocery Chains, Intersecting Croatian and European Identities, and the Modernization of the Tržnice, I analyze the increasing popularity of corporate grocery chains and the competition they present to the traditional ideal of the tržnice. Whereas the previous two chapters examine identity formation and the process of economic development, this

chapter analyzes the tensions between these two processes. The focus of the chapter is on the spatial and discursive ways that chains have attempted to position themselves in relation to daily economic and identity practices in Croatia. There are an increasing number of chains located within or near the spaces of the tržnice, which I argue allows chains to further position themselves in relation to the daily practices and experiences of Croatian communities. The presence of chains demonstrates another way that the tržnice are more complex, regulated, and modern than imagined.

These changes facing the tržnice also speak to the various spaces of inclusion and exclusion created around discourses of ethnic, national, and European belonging at other geographic scales. Chapter 5, Conclusion—The Limits of ‘Unity in Diversity, explores the broader implications of this dissertation, and engages with some of the larger challenges facing the EU. The chapter discusses the potential impacts of the recent refugee crisis on the European project. Each of these processes reveals some of the fears, apprehensions, and tensions that are present between the EU’s dream of ‘unity in diversity’.

Croatia’s process of Europeanization and the process of EU enlargement cannot be understood in the simple terms of state to state economic or political interaction. The processes of EU integration also involve identity (re)formation across multiple scales that have implications for daily lived experience. This dissertation demonstrates how identity practices are

(re)formed to adapt or defend against new ‘modern’ expectations, as well as through a desire to become more like them. The tržnice are defended from the bottom-up for their Croatian-ness as

European-ness. At the same time, they are disciplined, modernized, and corporatized to eliminate persons and practices deemed less ‘European’. These processes speak volumes about which

practices and identities communities wish to defend, and which they are willing to sacrifice, in the name of what is perceived to be progress and the greater good.

Figure. 1.1: This map of the central Dolac market demonstrates the institutionalization and formalization of the tržnice. Contrary to the traditional and informal associations with the tržnice, the spaces are very ordered.

Figure 1.2: This graffiti in the coastal city of Split demonstrates the conflict that many Croats see with joining the EU. If the EU=YU (Yugoslavia), and Brussels=Belgrade, can Croatia expect to have its sovereignties challenged yet again?

Chapter 2: Finding the Real Kumica: Daily Practice and Tradition in the Tržnice

“The times have changed, once small villages beneath Medvednica Mountain are now full of villas, surrounded by some other kinds of plants. But, like an oasis in the desert, there are still home-grown cherries and apples, there are still gardens tended by busy hands which cherish the tradition. Soup greens, cabbage, onion, cherries, apples, peaches, home-made wine and brandy, honey; flowers picked in the garden- ‘kumicas’ will offer you everything with a smile which is still on their faces, in spite of the centuries of hard work.” [emphasis added]6

The motivations and practices surrounding Zagreb’s tržnice (open-air or green markets)

[pronounced TURJ-neat-say] are complicated and situated according to the multiple and intersecting identities and experiences of people living in Zagreb. Shopping at the tržnice is a normal part of daily life for some, or as one older Zagreb resident told me, “the tržnice are just like grocery stores; it’s nothing special.” For others, though, especially younger generations, the tržnice have come to hold a special, cultural or historical importance, and shopping at the tržnice is not necessarily something done every day, but something done to feel connected to the experiences of being Croatian and being Zagrepčani (a citizen of Zagreb). Age is a powerful factor in determining who uses the tržnice, as younger generations have less time and more shopping options for their grocery needs (see Chapter 4 on the increasing popularity of chain stores and their relationship to the tržnice).

Beyond the motivations for why people use the tržnice, the material practices of how people use them reveal a great deal more about the importance of identity in these places. The shoppers I spoke with navigate the complicated landscape of the tržnice by considering which market to shop at, and who the best vendors are, with the fairest prices and the best produce.

They make these decisions with consideration for the importance of place, and specifically

6 An excerpt from an advertisement from the Kumica s Dolca (Lady from the Dolac) program; a joint effort by the Zagreb Tourist Board and the City of Zagreb Office for Agriculture and Forestry to encourage tourists to visit Zagreb’s largest market, the Dolac, and see traditional kumice. (Grad Zagreb 2017)

neighborhood belonging, identity, particularly ethnicity, age, and gender, and tradition; all of which become articulated as strategies for achieving the most ‘authentic’ experience in the tržnice. In this chapter, I demonstrate how the authentic tržnice experience comes to stand for the authentic ‘Croatian’ experience, an ideal that some see as threatened by the economic and political reforms brought on by EU membership, and by globalization more broadly (i.e. the introduction of international corporate grocery chains).

During conversations with my research participants, one strategy frequently emerged as a way to achieve an authentic market experience. Simply, I was told to “find the real kumica.” The kumica 7 [pronounced KOO-meet-sa], loosely translated as country/peasant/village woman, represents the ideal market vendor. She grows her own produce, prepares her own cheese, and makes her own crafts. She charges a fair price. She is a hard worker, and in many ways, she has come to represent an ideal of a rural and matronly Croatian identity. She is everyone’s mother and grandmother, a nurturing figure who provides cultural continuity as she provides locally grown food to her community.

In Zagreb, you do not have to look very far to find a representation of a kumica. At the top of a staircase, on the edge of the centrally located Dolac market, stands the statue of Kumica

Barica (Figure2.1). Erected in 2006, the statue is not of any one kumica, but a memorial to all the women throughout history who have traveled daily from the rural areas surrounding Zagreb to sell their produce in the city. Standing straight with one hand on her hip, the bronzed kumica is not smiling. She is not tall, nor thin, and her face is lined with wrinkles. Her dress is simple;

7 The kumica has a long history connected to the development of Zagreb and its relationship to the rural areas surrounding the city. Court documents and recorded events in the middle-ages refer to those women who bring cheese, eggs, and other things to the city on their heads (Karbić). Even the term, kumica, is interesting linguistically. Although loosely translated as village woman, countrywoman, or peasant woman, kumica also relates to the terms kum or kuma, meaning godfather and godmother respectively. Kum and kuma describe your closest friend, often your best man or maid of honor, and the godparents to your children. The kumica, then, is not just a peasant saleswoman, she’s also connected to the ideas of family, belonging, and being Croatian.

long-sleeved and layered with an apron around her waist and a traditional Slavic head covering tied under her chin. Balanced atop her head is a basket as wide or wider than she is, presumably filled with vegetables, fruits, eggs, and cheeses that she labored to produce and carry to the city where the hungry Zagrepčani wait. This statue is at once a reminder of the past and a reinforcement of what authenticity looks like.

Yet, the ideals represented by this statue and the discourses of the kumica are difficult, if not impossible, to locate within the tržnice. The overwhelming majority of tržnice vendors do not identify as a kumica, and do not fit the ethnic, cultural, and gendered expectations that her image evokes. Despite this, some members of the community and the state increasingly measure tržnice vendors against the standards set by the imagined kumica. In this chapter, I explore the various ways that some shoppers attempt to find the real kumica in their daily interactions with the tržnice, and analyze the numerous attempts by state institutions to protect those tržnice vendors and practices that most closely align with the ideals of the kumica.

Finding and preserving the ideal kumica has become important, because the presence of the kumica in the tržnice is about more than just finding the right vendor or the right market experience. The ideal kumica does double-duty as a representation of both Croatian and

European authenticity and tradition. She is connected to specific rural, gendered, and ethnic

Croatian ideals, but her figure is also reminiscent of similar European images of folk culture.

Therefore, deploying the image of the kumica is a response to EU integration that makes way for the processes of Europeanization, while still preserving practices perceived to be a part of the

Croatian national story. The kumica remains a symbol of cultural life; an object of nostalgia whose existence is a reminder of the way things once were, and for some, the way things ought to be.

The kumica acts as a mechanism of discipline and social control in the tržnice. Tržnice shoppers, particularly young people, look for the kumica to find the most authentic and traditional market experience. Vendors deploy the image of the kumica because they identify with her, are trying to imitate her to increase their business, or are attempting to negotiate legislative change. Various state institutions also use the kumica to identify which market vendors and practices deserve protection, and which should be disciplined to meet European standards. In what follows, I analyze the various uses of the kumica in the tržnice, and demonstrate how the belief in her existence contributes to a politics of exclusion, whereby products, practices, and vendors that do not meet the image of the kumica are considered undesirable. In particular, resellers and ethnic minorities are often singled-out as engaging in practices that are corrupt, lazy, and ultimately un-Croatian and un-European. In daily practice, shoppers frequent these vendors less. City and national legislation also targets these vendors with legislation designed to formalize and regulate transactions in the tržnice (see Chapter 3 on the implementation of fiscalization).

In these ways, the kumica is reflective of the ways that Croatian communities are negotiating the complicated dynamics of EU integration. The kumica is a tool used to attempt to preserve ‘Croatian’ sovereignty and traditions in the tržnice. At the same time, the kumica justifies the elimination of vendors and practices that do not reflect ‘European’ values. This relationship between the preservation of a Croatian identity and the implementation of a

European identity reflects the ongoing contradiction that is the EU’s motto of ‘unity in diversity’.

This chapter begins by briefly describing the complicated landscape of the tržnice. I then move to an analysis of the motivations and strategies some shoppers use to attempt to identify the real kumica in the appearance of vendors, as well as the products they sell. Next, I discuss

how the association of the kumica with tradition and cultural ideals has led to the imitation and reproduction of her image, but also the disciplining and/or removal of less desirable sellers, particularly resellers or ethnic minorities, from the tržnice. I conclude by examining the ways that the Croatian state has sought to protect and preserve the kumica and the traditional experience of the tržnice, while simultaneously disciplining and reforming other aspects of these places.

A Day in the Tržnice

Navigating the Landscape

You can find a tržnica in just about every city and village in Croatia, but their existence and the degree and frequency with which people participate in them, varies. In Zagreb, there are over twenty tržnice, strategically placed in all the major residential neighborhoods, most of which operate every day except for some national holidays (Figure 2.2). In rural areas, the tržnice are smaller and fewer. People still frequent the tržnice, but those with more access to land, typically grow some food on their own and do not need to buy produce from the markets.

In Zagreb, the typical market day begins around 6:30am and continues until 3 or 4pm, weather permitting. The landscapes of the tržnice differ according to size, location, and the items sold. Some tržnice operate like indoor/outdoor supermarkets where individual vendors and larger producers sell almost any foodstuff you can imagine. Often, there are also vendors selling books, flowers, souvenirs, wooden crafts, and clothing. Often, large tržnice are surrounded by cafes and restaurants that sell grilled meats and coffee. Smaller tržnice are relatively isolated in residential areas, with fewer vendors and product diversity. The landscape of a tržnica can appear busy and fast-paced with dozens of vendors making sales to residents and tourists alike, or it may seem

quiet and relaxed, with a handful of vendors making deals and conversation with their regular customers.

In any case, walking into any of Zagreb’s tržnice can be an intimidating experience for an outsider. The rows of stalls, piles of produce, meats, grains, and cheeses, and the chorus of vendors announcing, “izvolite” (here you are) [pronounced eez-vol-ee-tay] to offer you their wares blur together and become overwhelming. Then, just try and buy something. Which stall do you choose? When you finally decide, you must quickly decide what you want, how much, and provide as close to exact change as possible to a vendor that is quickly becoming exasperated with your obvious lack of understanding with the whole process. It’s exhausting!

It took me about two months of fieldwork to feel somewhat comfortable in the tržnice.

My hesitations with the language and the pressure of getting “enough” or “good” data certainly contributed to my fears of interacting in this complicated landscape. I also quickly came to realize my role as an outsider. I was unaware of many social protocols. On one day, I could approach a vendor who would let me pick which peppers or tomatoes that I wanted from their table, and yet, on the next, I could be scolded and have my hand slapped away for picking up a cucumber. In one of the city’s larger, centrally located tržnice, prices are often considerably higher than other, smaller markets. While some vendors are willing to negotiate prices, others maintain a firm stance. And, some vendors proudly declare their produce to be “domaće”

(domestic or homemade) [doe-mot-chay]. I could approach tables with products that looked fresh and delicious, only to notice the grocery store packaging stuffed underneath the carefully crafted display table. It was so clear to me in these moments that I could never fully understand the importance of the tržnice to Croatian communities and identities or the changes facing these

spaces due to EU membership, new tax legislation, and the larger forces of globalization, if I did not learn to navigate the tržnice myself.

When I sat down with informants early in my fieldwork, my questions inevitably began with how I might learn to use the tržnice. My informants advised me to consider which tržnice set prices for tourists, which fruits and vegetables are in season, how to tell if the fish for sale is fresh, and even how to negotiate for a cup of cabbage juice from vendors selling sauerkraut; a tried-and-true cure for a hangover. These conversations revealed the relationships between my research participants and the tržnice, as well as their community and identities.

Who Shops and Where

Age and geography are important factors in determining how people use the tržnice.

Many people, if they are Zagrepčani, often frequent the neighborhood markets where they grew up, and purchase from the same vendors as their parents or grandparents. However, if they now live in a different neighborhood, or moved to Zagreb from somewhere else in Croatia, they too must learn how to navigate their new tržnica. For older people, and particularly pensioners and older women, shopping at the tržnice is truly an everyday experience. This is in part explained by traditional family structures where mothers and grandmothers still provide the meals and caretaking for their children and grandchildren long into their adult life, and by the historical development of the tržnice during socialism, where the tržnice fulfilled the need for grocery stores (see Chapter 1 and Chapter 4). Much of the time, this is the demographic that you can expect to find using the tržnice.

In contrast, younger people often have less time to frequent the tržnice depending on their work schedules, or rely on parents or grandparents for shopping and cooking, so they reserve

their visits for a Saturday or Sunday where they might purchase just enough to make a traditional

Sunday lunch. For these customers, shopping at the tržnice is becoming a bit of a novelty; a way to feel a connection to the city and its historical or traditional practices. Still, there are those younger people who make a conscious decision to shop at the tržnice regularly, because they perceive the food as local, healthier, or of a higher quality. And, there are other young people who do not use the tržnice at all.

I spoke with a student at the University of Zagreb who explained that she did not shop at the tržnice, even now that she lived in the city. She still depended on some food grown by her grandparents and parents, who lived in the nearby town of Karlovac. Any other food she needed, she could purchase more conveniently at a regular grocery store.

The decision by some young people not to shop at the tržnice was unremarkable to an older Zagreb resident that I spoke with. She explained, “Of course young people don’t use the markets,” because their parents and grandparents still did most of the shopping, but she elaborated that they will shop there someday when they have families of their own. She explained that she did not shop at the tržnice as a young person either, but that it became more a part of her daily life after she had children. However, she also did not have access to the many grocery chains that exist in Croatia today. It remains to be seen if younger generations of Croats will turn to the tržnice for their daily grocery needs as they age. If not, the tržnice may increasingly become a novelty for those seeking a traditional, local, or authentic Croatian experience (see Chapter 4).

Finding the Real Kumica

Regardless of their age, most of my informants agreed that it takes time and trial and error to learn the ins-and-outs of the tržnice and, specifically, to figure out which vendors were the most trustworthy, offering the best products and deals. When I asked where I might begin, it was one of my younger participants, who first suggested that I find the real kumica to locate the most authentic and fair experience in this complicated marketplace.

An ethnic Croat and professional in his early 30s, he defied the assumption that younger people do not use the tržnice for their daily shopping needs. In fact, he was very deliberate in his choice to use the tržnice. We met for coffee at a café in the city center with a mutual friend; the kind of environment where many of my interviews and conversations took place. We discussed his opinions on EU membership, Zagreb’s urban development, and the tržnice. He believed that the tržnice offered some of the best places in the city to find healthy food, but that you had to know where to look. He told me that he had not always shopped at the tržnice. He remembered shopping with his grandfather as a child. As an adult, he decided to begin shopping at the tržnice on his own, but it took him a great deal of time to find the markets and vendors that he trusted.

When I pressed him further on how I might begin to find the best vendors and products, he suggested that I look for the real kumica.

What to look for

Naturally, my next questions were, how do you find the real kumica? And, what does she look like? He briefly paused to give this some thought. Perhaps, because he had not considered it much before, or because the identification of a kumica is obvious to insiders. After a moment, he provided me with several key indicators for spotting a kumica. He focused heavily on the kinds

of products that she might sell. Was this potential kumica selling just a few different vegetables, or maybe just eggs or cheese? The fewer products on display for sale, the greater the chances that she had grown or produced these items herself. The more diverse her table seemed, the greater the likelihood that she was simply a middleman, selling for a large producer. And, what is the quality of the products she is selling? Did the fruits and vegetables still have dirt on them, or did they have a few bruises? Again, these are good indicators that the items for sale are local, perhaps organic, and hopefully, produced by the kumica herself.

It was at this point in the conversation that a friend of this participant unexpectedly walked by and stopped to say hello. Again, this kind of informal interaction was very common throughout my fieldwork. He invited his friend to sit and join the conversation, asking them to help me understand how to spot a real kumica. Without hesitation, this friend began to describe how the body of the kumica also holds several clues to determining her authenticity. He suggested that I look at her fingernails; were they dirty? At her hands; were they wrinkled or calloused? These are signs of a hardworking peasant who labors to produce and bring to the city the items that she is trying to sell you. Her overall appearance might also resemble that of

Kumica Barica is some ways. Does she wear a head covering? Is she hunched over from old age and hard work? In these ways, a real kumica must embody certain characteristics that determine her authenticity, her rurality, and her level of hard work.

This conversation heavily influenced my subsequent interviews and observations. I became fascinated with how exactly to find the real kumica. Other participants mirrored some of the comments that I heard during this conversation. The kumica’s appearance and wares were important clues in determining her authenticity in the tržnice. These details are also important avoiding a false, or undesirable experience in the tržnice. On more than one occasion, a

participant warned me that some vendors may try to portray themselves as a real kumica, when in fact they were just using her image to try and sell items that they did not produce themselves, or to attract tourists. Later in the chapter, I further examine the phenomenon of imitating the kumica.

I was aware of the kumica before I was told to look for her. I had seen the statue of

Kumica Barica in the Dolac, but I never thought of her as a figure isolated to Croatian culture, or to the tržnice. I had seen her image elsewhere. Most of us have. There is a version of Kumica

Barica in almost every European country.

For example, shortly after returning from fieldwork, my grandmother gave me a painting done by my great grandmother. It is an oil painting of an older woman sitting on the front porch of her rural home. She is wearing a head covering and apron. Flowers surround her house, there is a garden in the yard, and moss covers the roof. Next to the woman are two children; one a small child, the other in a basinet. When I saw the painting, I thought, this is it! The kumica! My family is Polish, and I immediately made the connection, assuming this was another Slavic representation of the kumica. Attached to the painting was a prize ribbon. My great grandmother had won an art exhibition at her senior center. The title of the painting was, “Irish Grandmother.”

Turns out, this was not the kumica at all; just another representation of a rural, white, European grandmother.

If a version of the kumica is present in multiple European cultures, then what makes her so special in Croatia and the tržnice? While in Zagreb, I observed lots of different vendors in the tržnice. There were equal numbers of men and women, most of which were middle-aged, but with a few younger vendors here and there. But, definitely no one that fit the description of a real kumica, at least not according to the representation offered by the statue of Kumica Barica.

Perhaps more importantly, when I would shop with informants, they did not seem to be seeking her out, but instead just frequented vendors that they knew or that had a good reputation. Further, the characteristics used to identify a real kumica are not universal. Popular Croatian newspapers, for example, often report on the effects of new legislation and changing consumer preferences on the kumice (plural of kumica), but the images of the women shown do not always fit the traditional descriptions that informants gave me. As I got deeper into conversations with my research participants, these contradictions of the kumica began to make more sense, particularly because I soon learned that practices and vendors to avoid when navigating the tržnice were just as important as those to seek out.

What to avoid

Before the market day begins in the various tržnice around Zagreb, many of the vendors start their day in the Zelena Tržnica (Green Market). Located on the outskirts of the city, Zelena

Tržnica opens a little earlier than the other markets (about 5am), and stays open much later

(8pm). What makes this market unique however, is that, in addition to operating like a normal market, it is the space where resellers buy produce wholesale, before selling it in the tržnice in the city center. This is a common practice, one of the reasons that seeking out authentic, organic, or local produce can be so difficult, and perhaps why the kumica remains such an important marker for local authenticity.

However, my observations revealed that shoppers do not generally avoid resellers.

Considering the number of tržnice in Zagreb, it is impossible to imagine that they are all filled with individual producers. In fact, as I discuss in Chapter 2, the majority of tržnice vendors are resellers. Ultimately, my respondents indicated that some resellers are more trustworthy than

others to sell good products at a good price. When I spoke with older Croats, they did not often remark on the specific identities of tržnice vendors. Instead, they focused on the personal relationships that they developed with vendors over time. For example, I ran into a friend’s mother one day in a tržnice near her apartment. She was looking for her ‘onion guy’. However, amongst my younger respondents, ethnicity was cited as one of the largest markers to distinguish trustworthy sellers from those who were not. While the kumica is the ideal rural and ethnic

Croatian identity, ethnic minorities are often undesirable, and spatially and discursively marginalized in the tržnice. These ethnic divisions are reflective of the larger identity politics within the former Yugoslavia, and Europe, more broadly.

Albanians are one focus of othering within the tržnice and broader Croatian society.

Albania was not a part of Yugoslavia, because Albanians are not a part of the Slavic ethnic or linguistic family. They are also primarily Muslim, a factor that further distances them from the predominantly Catholic population in Croatia. Most notably, there is the ongoing tension between Serbs and Albanians in Kosovo, and Serbia’s assertion that Kosovo is a part of the

Serbian nation-state. Albanian populations throughout the region have faced discrimination and prejudice before and after the dissolution of Yugoslavia (Nikolić 2003).

Given this geographical context, I was not surprised when the role of Albanians in the tržnice was discussed as a negative. The same respondent, who first told me to find the real kumica, also warned me to avoid Albanian resellers. He argued that Albanians often buy up the cheapest and lowest quality produce in Zelena Tržnica, and then re-sell it for unreasonable prices around the city. Another respondent, an ethnic Croat in his late 20s discussed the role of

Albanian entrepreneurs in Zagreb. He dismissed Albanian sellers, “they’ll sell you anything,” and claimed that they are known for reselling low-quality produce in the tržnice.

Similar discourses exist of the Roma population in Zagreb, which faces widespread discrimination in Croatia, as in much of Europe. Roma language, ethnicity, and cultural practices, particularly isolation and nomadism, have made them an easy target for othering. The production of dangerous myths also promote discrimination. In the Eastern Europe, myths of

Roma vampirism and stereotypes of the Roma as criminals, abound. This occurs in Romania, the historical homeland of Romani Gypsies (Oprean 2011), but the discourses are widespread. In a chance encounter, a diplomat from the Republic of Georgia warned that I should never turn down a Roma begging for change, or they may curse me. The warning carried no hint of sarcasm. Roma self-isolation and the production of dangerous myths contribute to a large portion of Roma living in informal settlements, with low education and employment rates (Orenstein,

Mitchell A., et al 2004).

The European Commission recognizes the problem of Roma discrimination, and focuses efforts on the formalized integration of Roma into European society (such as housing and employment) (European Commission 2017). However, this does little to curb day-to-day discrimination and misconceptions. The issue of Roma discrimination is another instance where the goals of the EU clash with the sovereignty of EU member-states. In 2010, France implemented a controversial policy to offer Roma within their borders 300 Euros to return to

Romania. Human rights groups decried the policy, but the French government insisted that the offers to leave “fully conform with European rules and do not in any way affect the freedom of movement for EU citizens, as defined by treaties,” (BBC 2010).

While Albanian sellers are visible in the spaces of the tržnice, the Roma are marginalized to the outskirts of the market spaces selling clothing and accessories, or begging for change.

And, while buying from Roma sellers may be undesirable in the tržnice, many Zagrepčani

venture to the city’s weekly Sunday flea market and car auction, Hrelić. Dominated by Roma sellers, Hrelić is located near the city landfill. It is a shopping experience all its own. You can buy everything from antiques and furniture, to clothing, tools, and musical instruments. It is known as the popular place to purchase black market goods.

The tržnica on Britanski Trg (British Square) is the only other market that can compete with Hrelić when it comes to selling antique or black-market goods (Figure 2.3). On weekdays,

Britanski Trg operates like a regular market, selling produce and flowers. But, on Sundays,

Britanski Trg turns into an antiques market, selling art, jewelry, postcards, books, furniture, and remnants of the Yugoslav era. In comparison to Hrelić, Britanski Trg is tiny, but it is also distinguishable in other ways. My Croatian roommate described Britanski Trg as the ‘posh’ alternative to Hrelić, because the prices are higher, and the items for sale have already been vetted. She told me that vendors on Britanski Trg purchased many of the goods for sale at Hrelić at an earlier time. There is one other large difference between Hrelić and Britanski Trg, there are no Roma sellers.

In fact, the only Roma seller that I ever saw at the Britanski Trg was a young boy selling a set of kitchen knives. He was not at a table or stall, but instead carried the knives in a case up and down the outer rows of the market. He was maybe 10 years old, dressed in a suit and tie, perhaps to fit the ‘posh’ expectations of Britanski Trg, or maybe just because it was Sunday, and one should wear their best outfit to church. I’m not sure if he ever managed to sell the knives. It seemed like most people were just ignoring or joking with him. I also never saw him in the market again. But, on that day, at least, this boy seemed to be able to transgress the cultural borders and expectations of the tržnice, which spatially and discursively limit the visibility and desirability of ethnic minorities and resellers in the market landscape.

The marginalization of minority sellers and resellers in the tržnice relates to larger issues of ethnocentrism throughout Europe. Europeans have constructed the Roma as decidedly un-

European for centuries. Albanians also occupy the role of an ‘other’ within Europe, in part for their Balkan-ness. Within the former Yugoslavia, the non-Slavic identity of Albanians has placed them outside other cultures in the region. The presence of Albanians and Roma in the tržnice is not a consequence of EU integration, and there is a shared misunderstanding and discrimination of these groups throughout Europe. For this reason, I would argue that the presence of Albanians challenges Croatia’s desire to be ‘European’, both in the sense of EU integration, as well as cultural belonging. Given all this, it is unsurprising that Croatia’s complicated history with nationalism and ethnic discrimination informs how the young Croats I spoke with decide which vendors in the tržnice are trustworthy and authentic, and which vendors are not.

The construction of the kumica connects to this marginalization of ethnic minorities and resellers in the tržnice. In her appearance and practices, the kumica is a representation of ideal

Croatian and European traditions, but she does not exist in the ideal form described to me. Since shoppers cannot find her, they make decisions about where to shop and who to buy from based on the differences they can see; in this case, ethnic identity and production practices. Scaling up from these everyday interactions with the tržnice, the distinctions between authentic and undesirable vendors has also impacted Croatia’s process of Europeanization.

The belief in the kumica’s authenticity and legitimacy, particularly in relation to less desirable vendors has helped state institutions identify the places where the tržnice can be altered to meet EU standards (see Chapter 3 on fiscalization). Simultaneously, because the real kumica embodies specific ethnic, gendered, and rural Croatian and European identities, she is becoming a figure to protect as well as search for. The state disciplines some identities and practices for

‘the greater good’ of Croatian and European culture and development, while it increasingly reproduces and protects the kumica.

Protecting the Kumica

The ongoing discrimination of ethnic groups, like the Roma or Albanians, demonstrates the limited ability of the EU to reproduce cultural sameness and/or understanding. Instead, the

EU’s power lies in its ability to produce economic standardization and regulation. Health and safety standards, tax legislation, and consumer protections are all important ‘European’ values, and necessary steps in the process of Europeanization. However, in many cases, state and local governments find a flexible interpretation of EU regulations that exercises national and local sovereignties. In the tržnice, the vendors that can prove their identity as a kumica or local producer have found some level of protection from the implementation of local or state regulations. Considerations for identifying who does and does not deserve protection from new regulations are geographic, economic, and dependent on the products sold.

New standards and regulations for vendors and producers in the tržnice have been widespread. However, the changes facing those kumice who produce and sell homemade dairy products, like cheese and sour cream, have caused some of the greatest debate. In 2008, the very first time that I was in Zagreb, the tržnice was full of women selling their fresh cheeses and creams. The cheese laid out on tables, in dishes, but not in a refrigerator. In warmer weather and the summer months, extra care was necessary, and it was not uncommon to find that the tržnice smelled a little like cheese, slowly fermenting in the hot sun. People did not seem to mind. There was, and is, a certain level of trust in the idea that a real kumica produces cheese daily, and that it sells quickly, before it ever has the chance to spoil. The same applies to fresh eggs and yogurt.

This all changed in 2010 when the Sanitary Inspection Act and the Food Regulations Act went into effect. The standards require that dairy products are sold from sealed, glass cases, and stored at a temperature between 4 and 8 degrees Celsius (Zrinjski 2010). This drew protests and fear from the kumice in the markets, who were afraid that they would not be able to afford to purchase refrigerators to meet the new standards. These women referred to the sale of cheese and sour cream as tradition to defend their livelihoods, drawing on the practice as important to

Croatian national and ethnic identity.

Zagreb city officials responded by requiring the market management company, Tržnice

Zagreb, to purchase glass case refrigerators for the market spaces (Figure 2.4). The kumice argued that this only shifted the cost to them, indirectly. Since each vendor must rent their table or stall in the marketplace, the amount of rent each vendor pays would ultimately reflect the costs of the refrigerators. The Zagreb city government ultimately decided to allow the kumice to share refrigerator space, and ultimately the financial burden, with each other. This allowed vendors to remain compliant with the new regulations, and demonstrated the Croatian state’s continual efforts to promote ‘European’ values. The media hailed the decision as one that would save the kumice and the long-held tradition of selling cheese and sour cream in the tržnice

(Banka Magazin 2010).

The local government also provided exemptions to vendors who could not afford to implement EU consumer protections standards (i.e. product packaging and labels that disclose product origins and ingredients). Again, vendors that identified as kumice, and particularly those kumice who produce and sell cheese and cream, were given an exemption. Vendors could be exempt from packaging laws under the condition that they could prove they were a) local producers, and b) only intended to sell their cheeses to local, Zagreb residents.

Zagreb officials drew geographic distinctions regarding which kumice could take advantage of the label exemptions and the refrigerator sharing opportunity. Kumice were exempt if they resided in the counties immediately surrounding and bordering Zagreb. This decision drew serious criticism from the media and vendors, who argued that the days were gone when kumice walked into the city from the countryside, and that some 90% of the current kumice in the tržnice resided far outside of Zagreb’s surrounding counties (Kri. 2011).

The national government also made considerations for the survival and protection of the kumica. The Croatian national government recognized the difficulty that small producers, and particularly that family farmers and the kumice would have in adapting to new fiscalization measures (specifically, new cash register technologies and tax standards; see chapter 3). To remedy this concern, the state provided family farmers and kumice with an exemption to the new regulations, but highlighted that vendors would have to prove their identity as small producers.

Any kumica who earned a salary from reselling produce or other items would have to comply with fiscalization (Šajn 2013). The media even suggested that kumice, who participated in reselling, were false (lažne) kumice (Šimić 2014). In the next section, I deconstruct the tension between the real and false kumica, particularly in relation to how the image of the kumica has been co-opted and imitated.

These multi-scalar state interventions demonstrate how the image of the kumica is a tool for negotiating the tensions between preserving a ‘Croatian’ identity, and implementing

‘European’ values. Croatia’s local and national governments implemented sanitation and consumer protection standards to prepare the tržnice for European markets. The exemptions to these regulations represent the state’s attempts to maintain national and cultural sovereignty, but also legitimize the image of the kumica as acceptable to a European way of life. Those vendors

that can prove they use the ‘traditional’ and ‘authentic’ practices of the real kumica deserve protection. Those that do not must modernize and Europeanize. The image of the kumica acts as a marker for determining vendor authenticity.

However, the state’s characterization of the kumica is unrealistic, much like the representations described by my informants. She must be rural, she must work for herself, and her products must also have cultural value. The state’s imaginary of the kumica is so narrow that it is difficult for vendors to prove their authenticity. Even vendors that identify as a kumica face scrutiny if they are resellers, or live outside of the geographic areas outlined by the Zagreb city government. Vendors that do not meet these unrealistic expectations of a real kumica must face making changes to their livelihood practices, or risk expulsion from the tržnice all together. In these ways, the real kumica comes to represent ‘real’ Croats and Europeans.

Becoming a Kumica

Because the kumica acts as a tool for defining Croatian culture and authenticity, she has also become an image to both embody and imitate for producers to make more money and secure livelihood protection and legitimacy. In this last section, I examine how the image of the kumica supports tourism and greater participation in the tržnice. I also explore how vendors that identify as a kumica are changing to adapt to the new opportunities and expectations created by

Croatia’s entrance to the EU. While the community and the state still identify how the kumica looks, what she sells, and where she’s from in a very narrow way that is based on ethnic and traditional ideals, those women who identify themselves as a kumica have not remained static over time. In addition to seeking exemptions and protections from new laws, many producers have sought new certifications and educational opportunities that are allowing them to capitalize

on their image as traditional, local, quality producers to become globalized, selling their products outside of Croatia’s borders to the rest of the European community.

Imitating the Kumica

The statue of Kumica Barica stands in memorial to all the kumice that came before her, and represents the standard that other kumice must now meet to remain legitimate or desirable sellers in the tržnice. Her image has also become a tourist attraction. Visiting the Dolac market, especially in the summer months, you can find any number of tourists posing next to Kumica

Barica. They take turns placing their arms around her shoulders and imitating her stance.

Increasingly, the statue of Kumica Barica has become a must-see for tourists visiting Zagreb; an important stopping point on the checklist of things to do in the city.

This association of Kumica Barica with tourism did not come about coincidentally. The emphasis on the statue, and seeking out the kumica more broadly, are part of a deliberate program by the Zagreb Tourist Board and the Zagreb Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry. In

2011, the two agencies joined together to begin the “Kumica s Dolca” (Kumica from the Dolac) program (Figure 2.4). On Fridays and Saturdays throughout the summer and early fall, the program encourages tourists and Zagreb residents alike to come to the Dolac market to see a kumica and purchase local delicacies. Like the statue of Kumica Barica, the program is a memorial to all the kumice who have worked in Zagreb’s tržnice throughout history:

“In order to keep the memory of ‘kumica’- the hard-working guardian of the old spirit of Zagreb - alive not only as a statue, women dressed in Prigorje (Foothills) folk costume will once again come to Dolac from June to October to revive the memory of thousands of women who fed Zagreb throughout the centuries (Grad Zagreb, 2017).

“Kumica s Dolca” is a strategy to encourage Zagreb tourism, which is generally less than the popular Croatian coast. The program also highlights the uniqueness of Croatian and Zagreb

folk culture, which has played an important role in the process of nation-building throughout the former Yugoslavia (Simić 2000). The image of the rural, traditional kumica is an extension of a broader focus on folk culture, which the Croatian state has emphasized to justify its sovereignty.

“Kumica s Dolca” is just one example on the emphasis on folk culture throughout Zagreb. The

Croatian Museum of Naïve Art (Hrvatski muzej naivne umjetnosti) also reflects this fascination with folk culture. Even Zagreb’s urban design draws on images of folk culture. In the spring and summer, flowers in hanging baskets and decorative patterns adorn city parks and squares. I spoke with an architect who despised the flowers, remarking that they made the city feel like a village, when there should be more of a focus on making Zagreb a cosmopolitan European city.

“Kumica s Dolca” is also a performance that commodifies the image of the kumica. As I previously mentioned, the description of a kumica by my informants rarely aligned with the identities embodied by most vendors in the tržnice. The “Kumica s Dolca” program both reinforces and takes this unrealistic representation to the next level by providing tržnice visitors with a sanitized impersonation of the kumica, complete with traditional dress, folk singing, and the sale of produce and local delicacies. The costumed kumice wear bright red and white layered dresses and aprons and head coverings with traditional patterns, carry baskets on their heads and in their arms filled with breads, cheeses, fruits and vegetables, and pose for pictures with tourists that are seeking a piece of Croatian history and culture.

While working to reinforce a very specific and unrealistic version of who the kumice are,

“Kumica s Dolca” has also contributed to a consumer market for all things kumica. Souvenir stands in the Dolac sell the same baskets and aprons worn by the costumed kumice (Figure 2.5), and representations of the kumica are found on coffee cups, postcards, key chains, and magnets.

In conjunction with the discourse of seeking the kumica in daily market practices and the

Croatian state’s concessions to protect her livelihood from new regulations and standards, this commodification of the kumica solidifies her association with tradition, authenticity, and a

Croatian identity.

The use of the kumica in the tourism industry connects her, to broader ‘European’ values and ways of life. While her language, songs, and costume may be unique to her Croatian identity, her appearance, work ethic, and the items she produces are familiar across borders.

Representations of the kumica evoke images of the rural grandmother, working hard, but happily, to feed families. In these ways, the kumica has a counterpart in many countries, cities, and homes. This is why my great grandmother’s painting could easily be a depiction of the kumica.

The promotion of her image for tourist consumption connects the cultural importance of the tržnice and the kumica to similar cultural practices in other places. As such, it justifies her existence, the preference for her over other vendors in daily market practices, and the steps taken by the Croatian state to protect her from EU-supported legislation and standards. The kumica, and folk culture more broadly, is an effective way to assert Croatia’s uniqueness, while also connecting to other familiar elements of European culture. Tourists visiting Zagreb and the tržnice are given a view into a version of Europe that is seemingly gone from the more modern

West, while still very present in Croatia.

However, the commodification of her image also demands that the kumica remain the same throughout time. She must always meet characterizations set for her. She must dress traditionally and conservatively. Her body must show her age and hard work. And, she must always be a small, local, and rural producer. These expectations are perhaps unrealistic in the face of the changes posed by EU integration and globalization more broadly, where consumers have more shopping choices, and the kumice have a great deal more competition. In response to

these changes, many women who identify as a kumica have found ways to adapt their livelihood practices to take advantage of changing preferences and opportunities.

Certifying the Kumica

Finding the real kumica is a process complicated by the various ways that vendors imitate the kumica in the tržnice. There are those vendors who participate in the “Kumica s Dolca” program, and attempt to imitate the most traditional representations of the kumica. My research participants warned me about those vendors who use their dress and product displays to try and convince shoppers that they are a real kumica, when in fact, they too are impersonators. And, there are those vendors that identify as a kumica, even though they earn a salary from selling products for other producers. In one way or another, these vendors then become constructed as a false (lažne) kumica.

This naming goes beyond identifying ‘good’ and ‘bad’ vendors in the tržnice. A false kumica is engaging in practices that are undesirable to a Croatian and European way of life. As I have argued above, a real kumica is a tool for identifying what is simultaneously authentically

Croatian and European. Therefore, a false kumica is undesirable and inauthentic. Local producers that identify as kumice must prove their validity, despite the increasingly narrow definitions of a real kumica. To address this, small producers are seeking certifications and educational opportunities that make their products and images more trustworthy and marketable to consumers.

Notably, a school for adult education in Velika Gorica, a Zagreb suburb, offers courses and certifications for small producers. The classes costs between 2,500 and 4,500 kuna (about

450-820 USD), but financial support is available from local government subsidies. There are

around twenty programs offered in topics like beekeeping, cheese making, wine and brandy production, raising livestock, and fruit and vegetable gardening. The school began in 2007 through partnerships with local governments, the UNDP (United Nations Development

Program), the EU, and specifically the IPA (Instrument for Pre-Accession Assistance) to offer courses taught by academic and professional experts in agricultural production (Učilište za obrazovanje odraslih APIS 2017).

The driving force for registration and participation in these courses was the impending changes brought on by EU integration. As producers became increasingly aware of new requirements and regulations, they opted to get certified to remain competitive, but also to learn new technologies and techniques that could improve their production practices. One 2010 article from the popular newspaper, Jutarnji List, reported on the motivations and opinions of producers taking the courses (Arhiva 2010). Some producers, and particularly the traditional cheese making kumice, were resistant to the idea that the courses would teach them anything new. One student discussed a common response from kumice who produce dairy products:

“What will you teach me about how to make cheese when we are doing it for centuries?”

Others recognized the potential to adapt to EU integration:

“ …the real problems will occur when we join the European Union, and when they asked for papers and registration of production. I need to learn because it is the only way to maintain production. I don’t have a problem listening to smart people who know more than me, but a lot of my colleagues are not ready to make any changes that await us”

“We have 300 bee colonies, which is more than 500 hives, and since we passed the school, we have increased the quality of honey. The purpose of the school is not only to get the paper, but to hear other people's experiences and put this knowledge into practice. The transfer of knowledge today is very important.”

This formal schooling allows small producers to continue to improve the quality of their products, while finding innovative ways to remain competitive in a changing market.

Other certification programs are more directed at improving consumer confidence and security by ensuring the validity of the production and sales practices of small producers and market vendors. Producers complete these certification programs, because consumers have increasingly expressed difficulty in determining product origin. In a 2013 interview with the

Croatian newspaper, Večernji List, the tržnice manager in Varaždin (a small city about an hour from Zagreb) claimed that only 30% of market users believed the products they were purchasing were homemade (Vrtarič 2013). Product origin is important for those Croats seeking an authentic

Croatian experience in the tržnice, but is also important to European standards. The labeling and packaging laws that I described above reflect the importance of consumer protections in the EU.

The ‘European’ value of consumer protections works hand in hand with the search for authentic

Croatian experience in the tržnice. Consumers cannot easily identify local producers using the narrow ethnic and gendered markers of the real kumica, so these certifications make it easier to spot a local producer, and avoid the false kumice.

Producers, who are willing to have their practices inspected, can now earn these certificates to verify the items that they are selling locally-based products. The Zagreb tržnice management company and local government conduct inspections of the production process.

Inspectors visit the producers to photograph and document the production and manufacturing process at home. They also inspect the selling process during the market day. Vendors receive certificates if they achieve a satisfactory inspection, but some have had their certificates revoked after a re-inspection revealed inconsistencies between the production and selling processes

(Vrtarič 2013).

These certification programs preserve the most ‘authentic’ and ‘traditional’ Croatian vendors and practices. They also align well with the EU’s focus on creating standardized economic regulations and practices in all member-states. Small producers and vendors, who receive the local or homemade designation, are more likely to remain competitive, because they meet EU product origin and consumer protections standards, a designation typically associated with larger producers and grocery chains (see Chapter 4). Certified vendors are also able to emphasize the local and traditional nature of their products, making them attractive to consumers in the tržnice, but also opens their marketability to tourists (especially those that are pulled to the tržnice by programs like “Kumica s Dolca”) and consumers in other EU countries.

In July 2014, Zagreb’s mayor, Milan Bandić, proudly awarded twenty-nine of these certificates to local producers and family farms from Zagreb County. The certificates also came with new colors and uniforms. Green aprons and yellow collared shirts display the names and symbols of Tržnice Zagreb (the Zagreb market management company) and Proizvodi Hrvatskog

Seljaka (Products of Croatian Farmers) (Figure 2.6). The new outfits clearly distinguish certified vendors from those that are not. The hope is that over time, this will instill more confidence in the products being sold at the tržnice, and increase consumer participation in these spaces

(Novak 2014).

The implementation of this certification program also presents several problems and contradictions. First, and perhaps most obviously, earning the distinction of being a local producer does not necessarily indicate quality. While these certificates prove that producers are making or growing their goods for sale at home, it does nothing to indicate whether health and safety standards are met, or whether organic farming practices are being used; characteristics that are increasingly important, not just to the EU but to consumer preferences.

Secondly, these certification programs further reveal the contradictions between finding the real kumica and the reality of vendors in the spaces of the tržnice. While the discourses of tradition and authenticity in the tržnice circle around the very narrow descriptions of who the kumica is and what she looks like, the small producers who are qualifying for these local designations provide a much different picture of authenticity. Taking a closer look at Figure 2.6, the Zagreb producers that have earned their certifications look very little like the descriptions provided by my respondents, the statue of Kumica Barica, or the “Kumica s Dolca” program.

Instead, there is a mix of women and men, and of the old and the young. Even under their new uniforms there is no traditional dress, but modern shoes, painted toenails, arms draped through designer bags, and smiling faces carefully adorned with make-up, jewelry, and no traditional head coverings. In these ways, it becomes even clearer that the ideal experience that market users seek out when looking for the real kumica does not really exist, if it ever did.

Still, designating some producers as local and products as homemade further marginalizes ethnic minorities and resellers, who are already seen as undesirable to an authentic or traditional market experience. As I discussed earlier, the quantity and size of the tržnice in

Zagreb are dependent to a large degree on the presence of these resellers, and the continued marginalization of these vendors from the spaces of the tržnice may inadvertently lead to the closure of the tržnice themselves. In the next chapter, I will analyze this issue further by demonstrating how fiscalization measures directly target these less desirable sellers, and how rumors of market closures threaten the continued importance of the tržnice to life in the city.

Conclusion

The construction of the kumica is not a phenomenon isolated to Croatia. Visit any souvenir shop across Europe (or anywhere in the world for that matter), and you’ll find her. She appears in the form of a doll, as an image in a painting depicting traditional rural life, or in the stories about grandmothers who master traditional recipes. Regardless of language or nationality, anyone can recognize her. She is a piece of the past, and of home. She harkens toward simpler times that seem to be slipping away in the face of new technologies and the disappearing of borders brought on by globalization. So, people seek her out in the places they believe she still exists, like villages and markets, and they hold on to her, because she reminds them of their families, our traditions and our cultures, the things they are so afraid to lose as the world keeps changing around them.

In seeking out the kumica, Croats also subconsciously or consciously create the idea that some practices or identities are more authentic or valuable than others. In the kumica, people seek a very specific and narrow version of the history, tradition, and culture that they are so desperately clinging to, and consequently, seek to minimize or destroy the identities and practices that do not meet those cultural expectations. This process in which some identities and practices belong and others do not is also visible in the practices of state-building and governance at the national and transnational scales.

In Zagreb, the construction of the kumica is a form of nostalgia and a marker for the spatial and social inclusion and exclusion of ethnic identities. It is also a defense against the process of Europeanization, but simultaneously a representation of the ways that Croatia is already ‘European’. The real kumica is exempt and protected from EU-supported regulations that

are believed to threaten her livelihood practices, because of her cultural connections, not just to

Croatia’s history, but to her counterparts across Europe.

New regulations and opportunities have spilled into the spaces of the tržnice, but the image of the kumica remains an anchor to the past, and to a uniquely Croatian way of life. The community and the state defend her, because of her importance to the identity of the tržnice, the city, and Croatia. However, they only seek to protect a very specific and narrow version of who the kumica is, so narrow in fact that they label vendors as false, even if they identify as a kumica, because they engage in practices that are unnatural to a real kumica.

Even the kumica cannot remain static in the face of the changes to social and economic life, and as such, she has become something to reproduce and imitate, and those women who may embody her spirit and practice are no longer just feeding Zagreb, but are growing and adapting to new rules, so that they may compete in larger, European markets. While defending the kumica, the state is simultaneously moving to discipline and reform those that do not embody her authenticity and tradition, but that may still be on the margins. The next chapter examines this disciplining as it plays out in the process of fiscalization.

Figure 2.1: Kumica Barica in the Dolac Market

Figure 2.2: The locations of Zagreb’s Tržnice

Figure 2.3: Britanski Trg (British Square) Antiques Market

Figure 2.4: Refrigerators for Dairy Products at the Dolac Market

Figure 2.5: “Kumica s Dolca,” an advertisement from the Zagreb tourist board to come see women dressed as kumica in the Dolac every weekend.

Figure 2.6: Local producers in Zagreb receive certificates in July 2014. Photo credit: Marko

Lukunić and Večernji List

Chapter 3: The ‘Green Mafia’ and Fiscalization: Disciplining the Tržnice through

Development

“Today, when I listen to these criticisms and protests against the fiscalization by these resellers…They are not concerned about whether one’s child is left without the necessary vitamins because of their muscular prices. They think only of their own pockets…Well, now it has come to an end [emphasis added]” (Filić 2013).

In this chapter, I discuss the implementation of new tax legislation in Croatia, called fiscalizacija (fiscalization), and its implications on the tržnice and the construction of European and Croatian identities. Fiscalization is a set of economic reforms designed by the Croatian state to minimize informal economic activity by regulating cash transactions. The reforms regulate economic activity by requiring businesses to more effectively report taxable profits through internet connected cash registers, and providing customers with paper receipts for every transaction. The Croatian national government created fiscalization to recoup tax monies lost to undeclared work, but also to encourage a culture of fiscal responsibility, which has, broadly speaking, taken on new importance in the European Union since the 2008 global financial crisis, and the ongoing fiscal crisis in Greece. Therefore, fiscalization is not a strict requirement of

Croatia’s EU negotiations, but represents an important attempt by the Croatian state to demonstrate that it is modern, developed, and dedicated to ‘European’ values.

Fiscalization is another example of how the Croatian state carefully negotiates the effects of Europeanization on the identities, practices, and places that are ‘authentically’ Croatian. The implementation of fiscalization has been uneven in the tržnice, with local producers and the ‘real kumica’ receiving exemptions from all or part of the reforms. Instead, fiscalization targets resellers and, indirectly, ethnic minorities. Not all resellers are ethnic minorities, and there are many more resellers than ‘authentic’, local producers in the tržnice. However, the negative perceptions that resellers are deceptive, and that ethnic minorities sell poor products at poor

prices (often through reselling), come together in the targeted enforcement of fiscalization. An analysis of fiscalization demonstrates how ideas surrounding the meanings of being ‘European’ and/or ‘Croatian’ become institutionalized, protecting certain practices, while making others illegal.

Fiscalization has been widely debated and contested. In July 2013, affected vendors across the country went on strike in the tržnice. Striking vendors argued that fiscalization reforms threatened the traditional experience of the tržnice and would ultimately put them out of business. The community was generally unsympathetic to the protestations of striking vendors.

The market users that I spoke to in Zagreb argued in favor of the state’s assertions that fiscalization would address long-term issues of economic corruption in the tržnice, as well as other sectors. Croatian media supported fiscalization through a critique of striking vendors, some journalists going so far as to refer to resellers as corrupt vendors, who were part of the ‘zelena mafija’, or ‘green mafia’. Using ‘green’ to refer to the produce and other foodstuffs sold in the tržnice, the term is an accusation that resellers are part of a corrupt network of vendors, who charge unfair prices and peddle products of questionable quality and origin.

The lack of sympathy towards striking vendors reflects broader debates over what practices and identities fit within a ‘European’ Croatia. The ‘real kumica’ stands for the best of

Croatian and European identities. On the other hand, resellers, ethnic minorities, and the vendors striking against fiscalization are untrustworthy, even to the point of criminality. Therefore, the question of whether fiscalization affects vendor livelihoods is inconsequential.

It is to this complicated relationship between the so-called ‘green mafia’ and fiscalization that this chapter now turns. I begin the chapter by introducing the importance of fiscal responsibility to the European Union and the problem of the grey economy in Croatia to

demonstrate the origins and importance of the new fiscalization measures. Fiscalization is as an important component to state development and the stability of the European Union. With this framework, I then turn to a discussion of the specifics of the implementation of fiscalization, including the various Croatian state programs designed to encourage citizen and community participation in the new reforms. Thirdly, I analyze the question of fiscalization in the tržnice by examining discourses and opinions surrounding the vendor strikes, and the criticisms levied against the ‘green mafia’. Lastly, I consider the potential long-term effects that fiscalization will have on the landscape of the tržnice, as vendors fear fines and increased monitoring of their activities, and rumors circulate about the possibility of market closures. Ultimately, this chapter further exposes the complicated debate over what is traditional and modern, or ‘Croatian’ and

‘European’ as it is playing out in Zagreb’s tržnice.

European Development as Fiscal Responsibility

The European Union emphasizes the importance of fiscal responsibility as a means of ensuring European stability and prosperity. As a result, EU member-states and candidates, including Croatia, are frequently asked to pursue economic fiscalization measures for the greater good of European society. Economic fiscalization is one of the many tools of neoliberal development, along with managerialization, modernization, and the promise that reform preserves core practices and values (Clarke, 2007). These strategies seek to ensure the proper ordering and containment of economic activity within the capitalist system. Fiscal responsibility, then becomes not just a tool of Europeanization, but a tool of Europeanization as a specific kind of neoliberal economic development. One that emphasizes the regulation of national debt, the reduction and management of public spending, and the monitoring of labor practices and tax

collection. The promotion of development as fiscal responsibility in the EU directly influenced the implementation of fiscalization in Croatia.

Lessons from Greece, and the 2008 economic crisis, have made the promotion of fiscal responsibility a top priority for European institutions. On January 1st, 2013, the Eurozone ratified a “fiscal compact”, as part of the Treaty on Stability, Coordination and Governance (TSCG). The fiscal compact seeks to encourage fiscal responsibility by requiring the signing members to maintain a balanced budget (defined as a structural deficit no greater than 0.5% of the nominal

GDP), and agree to ‘automatic correction mechanisms’ and potential fines if a balanced budget is not maintained (European Council 2013). Even with measures like these, the European

Commission has struggled to provide financial assistance to Greece that would prevent a larger crisis, and so continues to focus on fiscal responsibility beyond concerns over national debt.

The management and reduction of public spending has also been a focus of the EU’s promotion of fiscal responsibility. Since the crisis, public expenditure accounts for roughly half of the annual wealth created within the EU (Vandierendonck 2014). The European Commission recommends that member-states consider long-term public spending reviews that examine and prioritize how and where public monies are spent. Public spending reviews provide long-term solutions to fiscal responsibility and economic stability. More immediate solutions include linear cuts in to the areas of public wages, employment benefits, or pensions.8 For example, the EU has explored the development of a common market for pension plans, Personal Pension Products

(PPPs), which would free-up public funds at the state level, and meet the needs of an increasingly ageing European population (European Commission 2017). This is but one example of the central focus that labor takes in the EU’s promotion of fiscal responsibility and stability.

8 I have a paper in progress that explores controversial proposals to cut war veteran benefits and pensions in Croatia, to more efficiently spend public monies.

The EU also shows concern for monitoring and controlling undeclared work and unreported taxes (the grey or shadow economy). When the EU intervenes in these areas, it shifts concerns over fiscal stability and responsibility from the scale of the state, to everyday corporealities. The European Commission argues that labor occurring outside the purview of regulated economic practice poses a threat to workers, to the state, and to European stability. In a

July, 2013 press release, László Andor, the Commissioner for Employment, Social Affairs and

Inclusion in the European Commission called undeclared work:

"…a scourge – it puts workers at greater risk of poverty and potentially dangerous working conditions. It undermines workers' job security, access to pensions and health care. It deprives governments of tax and social security revenue. Governments, employers and trade unions should work together at EU level to prevent and deter undeclared work," (European Commission 2013).

Until recently, member-states managed their own shadow or grey economies. The EU acted in a purely advisory role; offering strategies for combating the problem of undeclared work. In 2012; however, the European Commission revealed a new “Employment Package” to attempt to create a “stronger employment and social dimension to EU governance” (European

Commission 2012). The Commission then launched a consultation with trade unions and employer’s representatives in July 2013 to increase the transparency of employment issues between workers, employers, states, and the EU (European Commission 2013). Fiscalization has become a focus of these efforts, with member-states drafting policies to monitor, control and collect taxes on labor. The ability of a member-state to monitor and regulate economic activity is an indicator of modernization, stability, and is increasingly demonstrative of successful

Europeanization within the EU.

Member-states are primarily responsible for regulating labor, and collecting taxes within their borders. However, the EU has developed programs that work to promote the growth of a culture of fiscal responsibility at the local scale. That Taxation and Customs Union launched

“The Missing Part” campaign to bring everyday awareness and cooperation in the finding and stopping unreported economic activities, and specifically tax evasion, tax fraud, and tax avoidance (Figure 3.1). The campaign includes a one-and-a-half-minute video showing the ways that all Europeans miss out when taxes go unpaid. The video shows images of a little girl’s birthday cake with a piece missing, family photos with missing pieces, roads where portions of bridges disappear, before displaying the phrases:

“Every single day, around a fifth of all public money in Europe is lost to tax fraud and evasion. That money is your money. The EU is working to get the missing part back” (European Commission 2017).

The video ends with a link to “The Missing Part” website.

“The Missing Part” argues that the informal economy and tax evasion negatively impact

European citizens and communities, and encourages individuals to get involved in regulating economic activities. “That money is your money” is a powerful idea that puts the concerns of fiscal responsibility in the hands of people’s every day actions. In the next section, I analyze how the Croatian state has used similar discourses surrounding fiscal responsibility to encourage citizen participation in the new fiscalization measures.

As an economic union, the EU has become increasingly concerned with the effects that national debt, public expenditures, and the regulation of labor have on regional development and stability. Fiscal responsibility has become an important aspect of what it means to be ‘European’.

The EU does not have the power to completely regulate these issues, so instead depends on the multi-scalar efforts to both change legislation at the state level, and change cultural and economic practice in local places. The fiscalization measures in Croatia are a potent example of these efforts.

Fiscalization is a common strategy for encouraging economic development through the elimination of the grey economy, especially in post-socialist and post-communist places. Samuel

Schueth (2012) examined state strategies for tax collection in the Republic of Georgia. He demonstrated how fiscalization measures allow the state to coerce compliance in everyday practices, since it is incapable of monitoring or enforcing every economic exchange or transaction. In this chapter, I demonstrate how fiscalization in Croatia is more than just a legislative tool. Fiscalization has powerful cultural meanings, because of its association with modernization, development, and ‘European’ belonging. In the tržnice, existing cultural

(b)orders regarding vendor identities and practices (i.e. finding the ‘real kumica’ and avoiding resellers) reinforce fiscalization.

Fiscalization in Croatia

Undeclared Work and Fiscalization

Informal or unregulated economic activities occur in all EU member-states, but the highest levels of undeclared work and unreported taxes are in ‘less-developed’ European states, and specifically post-socialist or post-communist countries (European Commission, 2007). In

Croatia, the grey economy accounts for as 40% of the country’s GDP. Unemployment is also high; about 15.9% in 2012, before joining the EU. This is double what it was when the country became an EU candidate in 2008 (European Commission 2013: 4). Unemployment figures are hard to accurately measure, because individuals, who are officially unemployed, perform undeclared work. “Undeclared work is defined as any lawful paid activity that is ‘not declared to public authorities’” (European Council 2016).

The most common types of undeclared work are for domestic services (i.e. home and car repairs, housecleaning), but also include things like healthcare services, buying food, or babysitting and tutoring services (TNS Opinion and Social 2014). A Eurobarometer survey

conducted in the spring of 2013 reveals a great deal about the practices surrounding undeclared work within the informal economy. In Croatia, 27% of respondents admitted to buying food in the form of an undeclared purchase (p. 23), which is directly related to the practices of unregistered vendors in the tržnice described below. 56% of respondents were most likely to purchase undeclared goods or services from friends, colleagues, or acquaintances (p. 36). Lower prices are the biggest reason respondents cite for purchasing goods and services from the informal economy, and 34% cited the motivation of doing a favor for a friend, relative, or colleague (p. 42). And, while 41% of respondents claimed to know someone who engaged in undeclared work (p. 53), only 7% admitted to performing undeclared work themselves (p. 49).

These statistics hint at the complicated and widespread nature of the relationships and transactions formed around undeclared work and the informal economy.

During my time in Zagreb, the informal economy often came to me, and not just in the tržnice. When I asked for recommendations, it was very common for my informants to suggest hairdressers, language tutors, or repairpersons with whom they already had personal relationships, and that offered affordable, under the table services. These kinds of personal and informal transactions are not sinister, and states generally ignore them. However, the EU and

Croatian state’s continued emphasis on regulating undeclared work has created a sense of caution around these transactions. It was common for my informants to make recommendations with the caveat that I should be careful who I discuss this transaction with, since it was ‘black- market’.

Croatia’s fiscalization measures focus on tackling the problem of undeclared work by monitoring cash transactions. Fiscalization requires that businesses and entrepreneurs register accounts with the government, supply customers with paper receipts at the time of transaction,

and implement the use of cash registers that automatically report sales to tax authorities.

Beginning in 2012, the fiscalization measures were implemented in different economic sectors in three stages: (1) Large and medium taxpayers, including persons providing accommodation, as well as those involved in food preparation and the serving of food, were expected to comply as of January 1st, 2013, (2) Persons engaged in wholesale and retail, vehicle repair, freelance journalism, art, and education fell under the new regulations as of April 1st, 2013, and (3) All remaining workers in various economic sectors had to comply by July, 1st, 2013; Croatia’s EU accession date (Ministarstvo Financija Porezna Uprava 2013: 7). The tržnice fell under this third wave of fiscalization. By August 2013, the Croatian state estimated that it had collected an additional 13 billion kuna (approximately 2 million USD) for the state budget (Ministarstvo

Financija Porezna Uprava 2013). These numbers hint at the amount of money spent in the informal economy. Government funded inspections are responsible for much of the money collected, but the success of fiscalization has been dependent on citizen support and participation.

Promoting Citizen Participation in Fiscalization

The Croatian state has implemented various strategies to incentivize citizen participation in fiscalization. The Ministry of Finance launched a campaign of public service announcements to draw attention to the social and economic impacts of tax evasion, and encourage citizens to see the moral good in fiscalization. Simultaneously, a series of material strategies involving both monetary fines and rewards encouraged community surveillance of compliance in fiscalization.

In this section, I analyze a few of these strategies to demonstrate the ways that the Croatian state attempted to create citizen-inspectors through the motivations of fear, morality, and potential

economic gain. These strategies have been effective in encouraging some community support of fiscalization, but there are still a lot of misgivings regarding the impact of fiscalization on small businesses and entrepreneurs.

Croatian media has reported on several state strategies to encourage participation in fiscalization. One of the most negative incentives proposed issuing fines to individuals who cannot produce a receipt for a given transaction, or who possess a receipt or bill from a business that has not registered with the proper tax authorities. The conservative Croatian daily, Večernji

List (Evening List) reported that individuals could be fined up to 2,000 kuna (about 286 USD) if caught without a valid receipt for their purchase. A texting service was set up by the Ministry of

Finance, so that customers could check on the status of a business’s registration (Šunjerga 2012).

This policy motivated citizens and businesses alike through inciting a certain level of fear. People became more aware of the giving and taking of receipts, even for the smallest transactions. I cannot tell you how many times a waiter or research participant reminded me to take a receipt for my single coffee when leaving a café. Yet, I never met anyone who had been approached by an inspector, and I never witnessed any interaction with an inspector. While it is impossible for inspectors to be everywhere or to validate even a fraction of the daily transactions made in Croatia, the threat of being fined was enough to influence the daily practice of exchanging receipts.

One Croatian news source, Dnevnik (Daily), reported that the government was discussing the implementation of a sweepstakes, where citizens could receive a 500 kuna (about 77 USD) reward for reporting businesses they believed were not complying with fiscalization (Dnevnik

2012). None of my informants were aware that this was something that the government was considering. The proposed sweepstakes would have relied on citizens that were willing to report

neighborhood businesses and vendors for personal gain. This proposal took an ultimately negative approach to encouraging participation in fiscalization by asking people to betray their fellow citizens. The final version of this policy evolved into a program consisting of nation-wide public service announcements and a competition that encouraged more participation and less surveillance.

The program “Bez računa se ne računa”, or “No account does not count,” began in 2013, coinciding with the stricter implementation of fiscalization in more economic sectors, and leading up to EU accession. This program also encourages consumers to ask vendor, stores, and service providers for receipts that validate their participation in the fiscalization measures.

However, rather than encouraging this practice as a way to avoid fines, or to find and punish offenders, “No account does not count” more generally appeals to a consumer’s sense of morality and community, as well as the potential for substantial financial rewards.

Drawing on discourses of modernity and stability, the program highlights the negative effects of money lost to tax evasion and the grey economy. The Ministry of Finance includes video public service announcements and information on their website, which encourages consumer participation in fiscalization by emphasizing the lost revenue that could be put back into the community:

“Non-issuance of bills every year [means] we missed revenue in the budget of between 600 million and 1 billion kuna! The same is reflected in the reduction in revenue that could be used to improve conditions in kindergartens, schools, hospitals, libraries and other infrastructure facilities important for the life of the community. So always ask for a receipt when buying something with cash! This is your confirmation for a coherent and better society. Do not let your money end up on someone else's account instead of in the budget!” [emphasis in original] (Vlada Republike Hrvatske 2015).

These promotions use similar language to the “The Missing Part” project discussed earlier in the chapter., “The Missing Part” connects fiscal responsibility to ‘European’ values. “No account

does not count” draws the same connections between fiscal responsibility and state development by demonstrating the ways that the larger community, and ultimately the nation, lose out when economic activities go untaxed and unregulated. Fiscal responsibility and economic stability are asserted as ‘Croatian’ values.

The other component of the “No account does not count” program is a sweepstakes that is a joint effort by Hrvatska Lutrija (Croatia Lottery) and the Ministry of Finance. When the competition began, it encouraged individuals to submit twenty receipts from businesses that demonstrated compliance with fiscalization. To verify that a business complied, consumers had to ask for receipts, and locate a business’s ‘Unique Account Identifier’ on each receipt. Once submitted, the receipts entered a random drawing. Winners could receive consumer cards preloaded with 10, 15, or 20,000 kuna (Hrvatska Lutrija, 2013), approximately 1,500-3,000USD.

Winners were notified by mail, but the drawings were also filmed in a gameshow format

(Figure 3.2). A woman host carefully choose an entry from a large pile of submission envelopes, and passed it off to a panel of three judges. The judges carefully examined the receipts to determine their validity and if found acceptable, the lucky winner’s name was announced and displayed onscreen.

The campaign was so successful that the sweepstakes continued for another round, increasing the potential winnings to 20, 40, or 100,000 kuna. The second round of the sweepstakes encouraged participants to also submit receipts that were NOT compliant with fiscalization measures (Hrvatska Lutrija, 2015). Like the threat of consumer fines and the rumored ‘fair play’ policy, the sweepstakes took a negative turn, seeking to punish offenders, as much as to award those who participate in the new laws. Officials hoped the sweepstakes would help inspectors determine the vendors, entrepreneurs, and businesses that failed to comply with

fiscalization, ultimately make it easier to issue fines and force closures (Hrvatska Radiotelevizija

2014).

While the hundreds of envelopes on display in the sweepstakes drawing indicate the number of people who are participating as citizen-inspectors in the hopes of a monetary award.

However, it is difficult to more broadly gauge the success of these state sponsored programs. In

September 2013, a government supported study reported that 93% of Croats supported the implementation of fiscalization, but that only half of those supporters believed that fiscalization would be successful. The other half contend that people will continue to find ways to avoid registering accounts or paying taxes. The study further revealed that only about 32% of those surveyed changed their behavior (i.e. checking their receipts to see if businesses were registered legally) because of fiscalization (Ministarstvo Financija Porezna Uprava 2013). In this regard, the state’s attempt to draw attention to the morality of fiscalization and to create citizen- inspectors to monitor its implementation have only been somewhat successful. While I certainly observed a seemingly newfound attention to the giving and taking of receipts, there were mixed perceptions of the new legislative measures, and of the motivations for their implementation.

Perceptions of Fiscalization

Despite the massive government campaigning and financial incentives, there was still a lot of uncertainty and resistance to fiscalization at the time of my fieldwork. In Chapter 2, I discussed how market usage and vendor perceptions were situated according to age, gender, and ethnicity. However, the demographics of who was in support or against fiscalization was less clear.

There was no discernible difference between how my male and female, or older or younger informants viewed fiscalization. There was no pattern of support for fiscalization based on political ideology, either. My informants that identified as more conservative were just as likely to support fiscalization, as those who claimed to be liberal, or socialist. None of my informants identified ethnicity as a marker for deciding who fiscalization should target. This is in stark contrast to how my informants discussed authentic or desirable tržnice vendors, and the

‘real kumica’. Instead, my informants overwhelmingly discussed fiscalization as a positive in combating economic corruption, but also a danger to local, small, and traditional businesses and entrepreneurs.

Striking tržnice vendors were clearly opposed to fiscalization, arguing the measures negatively affected their livelihood practices. However, market users and other members of the community that I spoke with were less certain that fiscalization would produce negative impacts.

In their daily practice, some of my informants embraced the new rules, making sure to ask for receipts from market vendors or restaurant servers if one was not offered. My roommate was particularly vigilant about this. She often demanded receipts for her transactions in support of the fiscalization measures, and she frequently reminded me to take mine in case an inspector stopped me. Others blatantly disregarded the rules, leaving crumpled receipts behind them on café tables, as a show of resistance (or at the very least annoyance) and doubt over the state’s ability to fully monitor each and every transaction. Despite these daily acts, many of my research participants’ feelings towards fiscalization involved a much more complicated negotiation over the spaces and places where they thought fiscalization was necessary, and where it had gone too far.

The biggest factors that shaped my respondents’ participation in, and perception of, fiscalization were concerns over economic corruption, and the potential damage the legislation

could cause to small, local producers. One of my informants, a Zagreb native and computer engineer, wrote to me a story she heard about fiscalization. Her account summarizes many of the concerns that I heard from other informants and participants during my time in Zagreb. I had just returned from fieldwork and was reading news reports stating that the government was cracking down on businesses, who were not in compliance with fiscalization by issuing fines and even closures. In an email conversation, I asked this informant if she had noticed or heard of any closures in Zagreb. She responded:

“I heard a story the other day about a burek9 salesman, who was fined by the tax inspectors. Apparently, he was fined 20,000 kuna [approximately 3,100 USD]10, because he didn’t provide his customer with a receipt. But, he wasn’t trying to cheat anybody. He was just doing what he’s always done. He just sells a small amount of burek every day, and he likes talking to his customers. He was just enjoying talking to his customers and joking around, and the inspectors fined him, because he forgot to give a receipt. Now, how is he supposed to afford to pay this fine? It really is unfair! I think fiskalizacija (fiscalization) is a good idea, because we have a lot of corruption, but the government is going after the wrong people. He’s just trying to sell his burek…he’s not harming anyone.”

There are several key points in this story, which help explain the complicated perceptions of fiscalization. First, I should note that this account is like others told to me by research participants, while I was still in Zagreb. Although fiscalization did not go into effect in the tržnice until Croatia’s official EU accession, the measures were already established in other economic sectors, including in cafes and restaurants (see legislation timeline above). As a result, when asked about the effects of fiscalization, it was very common for my informants to say, “I heard about…” this café, restaurant, this bakery, etc. and provide me with similar stories to the one above. Other than casual conversations with market vendors or waiters, who feared the changes, I spoke with very few people directly affected by the new legislative measures. The closest I came to a direct experience with fiscalization was when I returned to Zagreb in the

9 Burek is a popular and traditional pastry with a flaky, filo dough crust. It is filled with cheese, meat, or potato. 10 At the time, the exchange rate for kuna was roughly 1 USD to 5 kuna. Now, it is closer to 1 to 7.

spring of 2014. A café that I had visited regularly was shutdown. I asked an acquaintance who knew the owners what had happened. They said it was tax reasons, but did not know, or would not share, the details.

Perhaps then, this closure was a direct result of fiscalization, but like the story I quoted above, I cannot really be sure of the facts. In my ten months of research, I never once saw, or interacted with a tax inspector. Yet, the media reported that the Ministry of Finance conducted more than 25,000 inspections across Croatia between January and August 2013. These inspections revealed more than 3,000tax irregularities. The Ministry ordered temporary shutdowns or fines for many of those irregularities (Hina 2013).

These reports support the circulation of stories, like that of the burek salesman. My informant “heard a story” that influenced her perceptions of fiscalization. The fear of inspections, and their potential consequences for businesses and entrepreneurs influenced the daily practices surrounding receipts. When waiters persistently reminded me to take my receipt, they did so to protect themselves from a potential inspector. When my informants decided whether to take receipts, they accepted or challenged the Croatian state’s ability to track down and punish those who were not in compliance with the new regulations.

The second important theme that emerges from the story of the burek salesman is the belief that the government is unfairly targeting some groups or individuals. In failing to provide a receipt, the burek salesman was not trying to cheat his customers, or avoid claiming the profits from that sale for tax purposes. Instead, he is “doing what he’s always done.” He produces and sells a small amount of burek daily, and interacts with his customers in a friendly and personal manner. One can see the similarities between the traditional and simple manner with which the

burek salesman operates and that of the ‘real kumica’. He sells a local, traditional, handmade product, and his practices are a source of comfort and nostalgia for customers.

In this story, though, rather than being protected from fiscalization, the burek salesman is a victim of the new regulations, and the fines he is being forced to pay may permanently put him out of business. In cases like this, the questions of morality surrounding fiscalization shift. While the Croatian state has emphasized the moral good of fiscalization measures in promoting development and stability, stories like these focus on the potential immorality of fiscalization if it threatens local producers and small businesses. In this way, fiscalization is a bad thing, preying on the innocent, and potentially destroying traditional Croatian practices, like selling burek. This is the very argument made by the striking tržnice vendors, but, as I will discuss in the next section, they received little public support, because of the association of reselling with corruption.

This brings me to the third and final theme that emerges from this story. While the burek salesman is an innocent victim of fiscalization, this informant still argued that fiscalization was good overall, because it would combat corruption. Corruption is one of the most important issues facing the country, with 94% of people in Croatia believing that corruption is widespread, compared with 76% in the EU overall (European Commission 2014). Additionally, 55% of people in Croatia say they are personally affected by corruption in their daily lives, compared with 26% in the EU (European Commission 2014). 6% say they were asked or expected to pay a bride in the last year (European Commission 2014).

Perhaps reflecting these perceptions, I heard just as many stories of restaurants and cafes claiming less than 100€ in profits per year to avoid paying taxes, as I did stories of well- intentioned entrepreneurs, victimized by fiscalization. Large scale examples of corruption also

abound. In 2012, Croatia’s former Prime Minister, Ivo Sanader, was sentenced to ten years in prison on charges that he diverted money from public funds to private companies for personal gain (Milekic 2015).11 In 2014, Milan Bandić, the mayor of Zagreb, was also arrested on corruption charges (Reuters 2014). In the summer of 2015, the owners of Zagreb’s soccer team,

Dinamo Zagreb, were arrested on charges of tax evasion and bribery (Associated Press 2015). It is hard to deny the role that this kind of corruption plays in the promotion of unfair business practices and depriving the state of monies for social services and infrastructure. However, the degree to which fiscalization will curb this kind of large scale corruption is uncertain.

Fiscalization is having a widespread effect on the tržnice, however.

Fiscalization in the Tržnice

In the tržnice, the state and the community have used fiscalization to draw borders around specific practices and vendors. Protection is given to vendors that resemble the kumica, are local, and represent traditional practices, while resellers, and as a result, ethnic minorities, are disciplined under the new measures. A discourse of resellers as part of a so-called ‘green mafia’, which takes advantage of consumers looking for better, local food choices, is used to defend the enforcement of fiscalization in the tržnice. The rest of this chapter explores the effects of fiscalization in the tržnice, and demonstrates how the fiscalization measures work alongside health and safety regulations, cultural practices, and consumer preferences to change the landscape of the tržnice.

As I mentioned earlier, the Croatian state gave the tržnice some flexibility regarding fiscalization. While other economic sectors had to implement the new measures between January

11 In 2015, Sanader was acquitted and released because of violations of criminal procedures and breaches to the right to fair trial (Milekic 2015).

and April 2013, tržnice vendors had several additional months to prepare for the new requirements (i.e. registering accounts with the government and purchasing machines that can print customer receipts and upload profits for tax collection). Fiscalization went unenforced in the tržnice until Croatia officially joined the EU on July 1st, 2013.

From the very beginning, the Croatian state was clear that, for many tržnice vendors, fiscalization would change little. Vendors registered as family farmers were exempt from the new measures, because they were already paying taxes on whatever they produced. And, as will be discussed in Chapter 4, there are many spaces within the tržnice that are owned by large farms or corporate chains. These vendors would have little trouble adjusting to the new technological requirements brought on by the fiscalization measures. Instead, implementing fiscalization in the tržnice specifically targeted resellers and middlemen, who sold products purchased from other sources.

In Chapter 2, I described the resellers who purchased produce in bulk from the Zelena

Tržnica (Green Market) in the morning, or who displayed fresh produce in their stall, while not so stealthily hiding grocery store packaging underneath their table. Fiscalization seemed designed to regulate, or all together get rid of these sellers, who are believed to be cheating their customers by selling items whose origin and quality cannot be verified, and cheating the larger community by not declaring their profits for tax collection. Yet, the tržnice are filled with resellers, so any legislation that targets them, also impacts the landscape of the tržnice more broadly. Vendors were warned. If they were not in compliance with the new regulations by the time fiscalization went into effect, they would face fines and seizure of their products.

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Strikes in the Tržnice

On July 1st, 2013, while others celebrated Croatia’s EU accession, tržnice vendors from around the country went on strike.12 In Zagreb, strikers met in the central, Dolac market to voice their concerns. Strikes also occurred in other major cities, like Split and Osijek. Strikers argued that the fiscalization measures would negatively affect both the vendors and the broader landscape of the tržnice. They claimed that the introduction of modern cash registers was both cost prohibitive and interfered with the traditional experience of the market, by eliminating the practice of price negotiation and bargaining. They pointed out that the new technology would be unreliable in the snow or rain, as many vendors work from an outdoor stall with little covering.

Strikers also drew attention to the competition they were already facing from corporate grocery chains, and they disputed the claims that they were somehow criminals that were trying to cheat customers (Šimić 2014). Instead, they drew attention to the important role that they, and the tržnice, play in Croatian culture and society (Figures 3.3 and 3.4).

The increasing popularity and presence of corporate grocery chains and supermarkets has certainly impacted the tržnice. In Chapter 4, I analyze how corporate chains are both claiming spaces and customers in the tržnice. Striking vendors claimed that they already had a difficult time competing with the convenience and pricing of grocery store chains. They argued that the fiscalization measures would further disadvantage them, as grocery chains had no trouble adapting to the regulations, and tržnice customers expected a more fast-paced shopping

12 My residency permit expired on July 1st, and I had to leave the country. As I mentioned in the introduction, I traveled to Slovenia to reset my passport. This presented one of the biggest limitations of my research. Resetting my residency permit meant that I missed the EU accession celebrations, as well as the beginning of the vendor strikes and their initial protests. I have therefore been forced to rely on secondary sources for the arguments being made by vendors during the protests.

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experience. Vendors also drew attention to the important role that they played in feeding

Croatian families. In Figure 3.3, strikers hold signs reading (from left to right):

“We work from 3:00 in the morning to 6:00 at night to feed families”

“Linić, open markets are not supermarkets with patient customers!!!!!!”

“It’s not enough that we are destroyed by supermarkets. Now the tax administration is destroying us” (Poslovni Dnevnik 2013).

In Zagreb, the protests culminated with the striking vendors gathering outside the parliament building in St. Mark’s Square. Protestors were received by Slavko Linić, the Finance

Minister at the time, and the face of support for fiscalization in the tržnice. Figure 3.4 is a photo of this event, as published by the popular news site, Index.hr. In the photo, a large sign held by protesters reads:

“We are not criminals. We are citizens of the RH (Republic of Croatia), craftsmen who only want to delay fiscalization. We are for paying taxes, but not in this way!” (Media Servis 2013)

Here, the assertion that strikers are not criminals seems to be in direct response to the claims that vendors, who resist fiscalization, are corrupt and greedy; characteristics of the green mafia that I discuss below.

The striking vendors took their concerns to the tax administration, and to Linić specifically, again drawing on their important positions as working members of the community with families telling Linić that he had no “right to throw 100,000 families on to the street”

(Media Servis 2013). While Linić agreed to meet with representatives from the striking vendors, he ultimately rejected their proposals to be exempt from the cash fiscalization, or at least to delay its implementation to a later date. This meeting took place on the third day of the strikes, and signaled the beginning of the end for protestors. After Linić rejected their concerns, many

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vendors resigned to purchasing fiscal cash registers and complying with the new fiscalization measures.

The strikes continued for several more days, but in general, it was back to work for the tržnice. Despite the claims that fiscalization would disadvantage vendors who already faced competition from supermarket chains, and an emphasis on vendor identities as hard-working families that play an important role in the community, strikers found little support with their fellow citizens. Instead, many people expressed frustration with striking vendors, arguing that the fiscalization measures might be painful, but are a necessary component of Croatia’s development as a state. Critics further argued that tržnice resellers had been taking advantage of a faulty system for too long, and fiscalization was a much-needed step toward (re)making the tržnice in its traditional image, where local people (like the kumica), sold local produce and handicrafts at a fair price.

Resellers and the ‘Green Mafia’

When I spoke with my key informants about vendor concerns, most were unsympathetic.

Stories, like that of the burek salesman described above, produced caution over the effects of fiscalization on small producers and entrepreneurs, but tržnice resellers were not given the same consideration. Instead, resellers were critiqued as taking advantage of a faulty system, which allows them to sell commodities they do not produce, for prices that are unfair, while they manage to avoid paying taxes on the profits that they make.

In Chapter 2, I analyzed how my respondents instructed me to search for the ‘real kumica’ to achieve the most authentic experience in the tržnice, and to avoid, or at least be cautious of resellers. I discussed how some of my participants identified resellers along ethnic

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lines, and in particular were cautious of Albanian sellers. However, ethnicity plays a much less direct role in determining who the new fiscalization measures should regulate. Instead, echoing many of the same concerns presented by the Croatian state in the “No account does not count” campaign, my respondents tax monitoring and collection in the promotion of a stable and developed state. As one participant put it, “they (the vendors) are asking too much; everyone should have to pay taxes, and they have avoided it for too long.”

The mistrust of resellers goes deeper than a concern for tax collection. For many, the practices of resellers border on the criminal, because they are believed to set high prices for products whose origin and quality cannot be verified. Resellers, that were perceived to be cheating customers for their own profits, were accused of being part of a so-called ‘green mafia’.

In 2003, a full five years before Croatia’s EU negotiation process would begin, Večernji

List (2003) identified the problem of the green mafia, accusing them of working collectively to cheat customers with high prices and intimidate other vendors, sometimes through violence, who might otherwise try to sell items at a more competitive price. When tensions were high during the 2013, Goran Perović, a vendor in the coastal city of Zadar, was reportedly attacked for implementing a fiscal cash register, and not standing in solidarity with the striking vendors

(Kalajžić 2013). There’s no proof that this incident was a collective effort by any ‘green mafia’, but its occurrence seems to support critics of the resellers, who see their actions as criminal, and not representative of the traditional spirit of the tržnice.

I opened this chapter with a quote that gets right to the heart of the criticisms made against the striking tržnice vendors. Anton Filić (2013), a journalist for Večernji List, blogged about the implementation of fiscalization in the tržnice, and criticized the striking vendors as acting as the green mafia:

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Filić continued:

“Do not pass on the story about the existence of conditions for the introduction of fiscal cash registers, wet hands, rain, umbrellas…”

Not only does Filić accuse the striking vendors of being a part of the ‘green mafia’, but he takes down each of the arguments made by striking vendors. Instead of vendors being craftsman, who work long hours in all conditions to feed Croatian families, Filić sees them as greedy. He criticizes them for charging unfair prices that could ultimately prevent families from getting access to proper nutrition, and he quickly disregards their arguments for the structural and financial conditions that make the implementation of fiscal cash registers difficult. Taken in this context, the claims of the striking vendors seem absurd. Why should these vendors be given any consideration with respect to fiscalization, if they are only concerned with their own profits?

How can shoppers trust that vendors are treating them fairly? Criticisms of the green mafia effectively negated the claims being made by striking vendors, leaving them with little support for their cause.

Other critics drew on the traditional practices of the tržnice to dispute the claims of the striking vendors. Boris Vlašić (2013), a commentator for the social-democrat leaning daily,

Jutarnji List (Morning List) wrote, “Against the Green mafia: Could a clean bill be our cultural heritage?” In the piece, Vlašić acknowledges that the tržnice are an important component of

Croatian culture and heritage, but argues that the absence of fiscal cash registers or accounts, are not:

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“Selling without an account has nothing to do with tradition and intangible cultural heritage, but has a lot to do with undeclared goods suspicious of origin, and as such cannot be something we should be proud of.”

Vlašić emphasizes that selling without a registered account only promotes the grey economy, and prevents society from gaining tax benefits, again reinforcing the EU’s and Croatian state’s message that the grey economy threatens all aspects of society. By asking readers to consider whether registered accounts and fiscal cash registers could become a part of Croatian cultural heritage, Vlašić is also subtly asking whether the practices of unregistered resellers and the

‘green mafia’ are not.

Conclusion: The Tržnice after Fiscalization

The long-term impacts of fiscalization in the tržnice are hard to measure. The strikes came and went during my last few weeks of fieldwork, and little seemed to change at that time.

The markets were still running, and I still did not necessarily receive a receipt for all my transactions. I also did not encounter any inspectors. However, it seemed to me that smaller markets, which already struggled to stay open, had even fewer stalls open because of fiscalization. Figure 3.5 shows the Trnje market on July 13, 2013. The market, which is already small, is located just outside the city center in Novi Zagreb (New Zagreb), and had only one vendor operating that day. Perhaps this was a sign of things to come for many of the smaller tržnice that depend on resellers to fill their stalls?

The goals of fiscalization are to recoup monies lost to tax evasion, and to regulate and standardize Croatia’s markets for integration with the EU. The implementation of fiscalization in the tržnice carries the added benefit of reinforcing existing cultural expectations of these spaces.

The figure of the ‘real kumica’ embodies the ideal vendor, and the best of European and Croatian

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practices, selling traditional foods and homemade handicrafts. The reseller, on the other hand, is unpredictable and unregulated, threatening the ‘authentic’ experience of the tržnice.

Fiscalization offers the opportunity to institutionalize this mistrust and dislike of resellers.

Net.hr (2013) an online news source, reported that by September 2013, there were 163 inspections in Zagreb markets, which revealed only seven irregularities, because many vendors had still not returned to work, in fear of inspections. While the Croatian state does not have the power to monitor every transaction, the specter of fiscalization acts as a tool for disciplining resellers. But, if resellers leave the tržnice, who will remain? Perhaps only the ‘real kumica’? The impossible expectations of the ‘real kumica’, and potential exodus of many resellers, could have drastic consequences for Zagreb’s tržnice.

The decrease in vendors in market spaces impacted popular markets, like Branimirova and Britanski Trg.13 According to Večernji List, these markets saw a 30% decrease in traffic after the implementation of fiscalization, which raised concerns about the ability of these markets to remain open (Bubalo 2013). However, despite these reports and fears, the tržnice were still operating as normal when I returned to Zagreb in the spring of 2014. Supporters of fiscalization argue that the legislation had not gone far enough, because many people who were once resellers, have found ways to register as family farmers. The tax administration was not prepared to investigate these claims. As a result, it is business as usual for many resellers, who have found ways to avoid implementing the fiscalization measures (Kalajžić 2013). This report of resellers attempting to pass as family farmers is another acknowledgment of the powerful image of the

‘real kumica’. To protect their livelihoods, these resellers rebranded themselves to fit the

13 Britanski Trg, or British Square is the same market space that holds the antiques market on the weekend that I described in Chapter 2. Branimirova, is also located on the edges of the city center, near Zagreb’s main bus station. While both markets are small, they are important to locals, especially in comparison to the central Dolac market, which is often heavily populated by tourists.

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expectations of ‘Croatian’ and ‘European’ values; becoming a ‘false kumica’ of sorts. Ironically, fiscalization then reproduces the very thing it is trying to eliminate.

The image of the ‘real kumica’ represents European and Croatian identities as they once were: local, traditional, rural. Fiscalization offers a path to shaping these identities into what they could be: modern, standardized, interconnected. Yet, my analysis of how these two processes have played out in the tržnice shows that these ideas do not exist in opposition to one another.

They are mutually constituted through the disciplining of practices and people that cannot meet either set of expectations. In the next chapter, I examine a third and final process that is both reshaping the tržnice, and reshaping the meanings of being Croatian and European: the increasing popularity and availability of supermarket chains.

Striking tržnice vendors recognized the competition they faced from large grocery chains, and as discussed in Chapter 2, many of my research participants, especially younger generations, were more likely to seek out these options over the tržnice out of convenience. The presence and popularity of grocery chains is an important element of the process of Europeanization, where many Croats count themselves as more modern, and more integrated with the European community for having these options. The next chapter examines the rise of supermarkets in

Croatia, as they insinuate themselves into Croatian culture and shopping practices and into the spaces of the tržnice, providing a more ‘modern’ and ‘European’ shopping choice.

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Figure 3.1: “The Missing Part” Campaign, sponsored by the Taxation and Customs Union

Figure 3.2: “Bez računa se ne računa” (no account, does not count) sweepstakes selection (Hrvatska Lutrija 2013).

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Figure 3.3: Striking vendors draw attention to the competition they face from supermarkets, and the important role they play in the community. (7/1/2013 Photo credit: Poslovni Dnevnik).

Figure 3.4: Striking vendors in Zagreb take their concerns to tax administration and government (7/03/13 Photo Credit: Tomislav Kristo/CroPix)

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Figure 3.5: The Trnje market in Novi Zagreb (7/13/13)

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Chapter 4: Corporate Grocery Chains, Intersecting Croatian and European Identities, and the Modernization of the Tržnice

In this third and final empirical chapter, I consider the increasing popularity and prevalence of both domestic and foreign-based corporate grocery and drugstore chains in

Croatia. The presence of corporate chains has increased since Croatia’s EU negotiation process began, but is not a reflection of any direct action by the EU. Instead, the presence of chains reflects the larger processes of globalization and Croatia’s transition from socialism to capitalism. Tržnice vendors, striking against fiscalization, argued that corporate chains pose a threat to their livelihoods, because they offer more convenience, lower prices, and have been able to more easily adapt to new regulations. In this chapter, I argue that corporate chains have the potential to reshape the tržnice entirely. In what follows, I demonstrate how corporate grocery, bakery, and drugstore chains have strategically positioned themselves both geographically, in relation to the tržnice in Zagreb, and discursively, as representative of both

Croatian and European ideals. Like the implementation of fiscalization and the figure of the kumica, this positioning simultaneously challenges and reinforces Croatian and European identities.

Corporate chains use advertisements and special promotions to emphasize how their products and services represent both Croatian and European identities. Chains draw on their ability to provide consumers with choice, modern conveniences, and diversity; all attributes associated with the borderless and globalized world represented by the European Union. They also demonstrate how their products and services relate to local, familial, and traditional lifestyles. Some domestic chains even make specific connections to a Croatian national identity.

These strategies give chains an active role in (re)shaping Croatian and European identities.

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The presence of chain stores also has the power to (re)shape the daily lived experience of

Croatian communities. Corporate chains are also increasingly located in or near Zagreb’s tržnice.

This is good business. Stores need to be located where consumers are more likely to shop, and the tržnice are already strategically located near city squares and major residential areas.

However, this also has the potential to reshape the tržnice. Younger Croats that I spoke with were more likely to seek out chain stores for convenience and accessibility (Chapter 2), and as I will discuss below, corporate chains have become associated with higher quality shopping experiences. The presence of corporate chains in the tržnice may further eliminate resellers and informal practices in the tržnice, by giving customers an easy choice for locating ‘trustworthy’ vendors or product origin. The presence of chain stores further standardizes and modernizes the tržnice experience.

In what follows, I analyze the geographic and discursive relationships between corporate chains, identity, and the tržnice to once again demonstrate how the shifting boundaries of Europe impact the daily lived experience of communities. I begin the chapter with a brief description of what it is like to shop in a Croatian grocery chain. I then introduce some of the most popular grocery, drugstore, and bakery chains in Croatia, and provide a context for understanding

Croatian consumer shopping preferences. Thirdly, I demonstrate the ways that corporate chains draw on intersecting Croatian and European identities and lifestyles to promote their brands and products, which impacts the daily shopping practices and preferences of consumers in Croatia.

Lastly, I move toward a spatial analysis of the location of chain stores in Zagreb to reveal how the increasing presence of corporate chains is impacting the ‘traditional’ spaces of the tržnice.

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A Day in a Grocery Chain

In this chapter, I demonstrate how corporate chains situate themselves as a part of both

European and Croatian identities. But, the truth is, if you are shopping in a Croatian grocery chain, and you ignore the signage and language differences, you could be shopping anywhere.

Bright lights, high ceilings, and white or checkered floors. Carefully crafted displays with the latest sales, aisles of dry groceries organized in neat rows, produce section, meat counter, deli counter, and of course, carefully numbered checkout aisles, each containing a single cashier, uniformed and easy to spot. The music playing overhead is soft, easily ignored, and often an international English language hit. The inside of a Croatian grocery chain looks and feels like the inside of any grocery chain in Europe, the U.S., or anywhere else.

And, that is part of the appeal. Chain stores mean organization and standardization. The hours of operation are predictable, prices are as advertised, and if you are unhappy with a purchase, there is the opportunity for return or exchange. Cleanliness and safety reign supreme, you can expect to find the counters and floors regularly scrubbed, and feel confident that food is kept refrigerated or frozen at the proper temperature. Clear nutrition, ingredient, and country of origin labels provide not just a sense of standardization, but a sense of safety and accountability, so the shopper feels that they can trust the quality of their product. In these ways, chain stores seem to be easily meeting needs that the tržnice struggle to provide, because standardization contributes to the easy implementation of laws and standards.

Each chain store also contains and products and brand names from all over the world, and this wide availability of products means something important to shoppers; choice. While the tržnice are the place to seek out an ‘authentic’ or ‘traditional’ Croatian experience, grocery chains offer the opportunity to experience global foods, cultures, and identities. In addition to

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local favorites, Croatian grocery chains increasingly have sections dedicated to international foods and the options for preparing Mexican, Chinese, or Indian cuisine at home. Beyond international choices, grocery chains also offer popular dietary alternatives and health foods, like gluten free options and dairy alternatives.

Of course, these descriptions are fraught with contradictions. Grocery chains are not the only places that provide choice and diversity in their products. Even though the tržnice are associated with a traditional or local experience, they are filled with products that have non-local origins. You can easily find spices, fruits and vegetables, and grains with global origins. For example, bananas are widely available in the tržnice, but obviously not an indigenous crop, and certainly not locally produced. This is part of the critique levied against resellers. If they are not producing what they sell, how can the customer trust product origin and quality (Chapter 2)?

Still, this proves that chain stores have not cornered the market on the availability of diverse, international, or specialty foods.

Additionally, shopping at a grocery chain does not guarantee safety, standardization, or accountability. Unlike the tržnice, grocery chains have had little trouble adapting to fiscalization or EU-supported health and safety regulations, because they already use standardized economic and safety practices. But, corporate control over food production, distribution, and sales does not involve nearly as much safety, standardization, and accountability as shoppers may think. For example, the presence of listeria in, and subsequent recall of imported salmon (M.L. 2013) and sausage (Hina 2017) are powerful reminders that corporate chains are not immune to safety issues.

Still, consumers frequent grocery chains, because of the convenience that they offer. The tržnice offer a cultural experience, but it can be time consuming to navigate vendors, stands, and

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sections of the market to get everything you need. They are also only open until the afternoon in most cases, making it impossible for people, who work during normal business hours, to take advantage of what the tržnice offer. Grocery chains, on the other hand, offer the convenience of shopping for all your grocery and household needs quickly and efficiently in one place. Many grocery chains are open late into the night, or 24 hours, A chain store is always available, regardless of a person’s work or personal schedule.

The discourses of corporate chains as convenient, standardized, and accountable is an image carefully crafted by the chains themselves. Around the world, corporate chains use mission statements, advertising, and philanthropic work to appeal to consumers. Chains also physically locate their stores where they are likely to draw in the largest number of customers. In

Croatia, these strategies have manifested as a part of the process of Europeanization and development. Croatian chains advertise their production processes and services as simultaneously offering the best of traditional Croatian values and modern European amenities.

Chains also position themselves as a part of the everyday lived experience of Croatian communities by physically locating themselves in relation to the tržnice. Before exploring each of these strategies in more detail, I want to briefly introduce the origins and services provided by some of the most popular and prevalent grocery, bakery, and drugstore chains in Croatia.

Popular Retail Chains and Consumer Shopping Habits

Croatia is home to a wide-range of corporate grocery, drugstore, and bakery chains, and

Zagreb, being the largest city, offers the most options for consumers. There are many foreign- based chains, particularly those based in Germany, but Croatia also has a healthy number of domestic chains. While some of Croatia’s chains are leftovers from the Yugoslav era, many

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originate in a post-war landscape. My purpose in taking the time to introduce and describe these chains is to provide a context for understanding why these chains have become so accessible and popular among Croatian consumers. However, before describing specific chains, I want to briefly consider the evolution of grocery chains and the shopping habits of consumers in Croatia.

The Evolution of Grocery Chains and Consumer Shopping Habits

My conversations in the field revealed some important themes regarding the shopping habits of people in Zagreb. In Chapter 2, I demonstrated the ways that shopping in the tržnice is situated according to age, gender, and neighborhood location, and I discussed how some of my younger respondents preferred the convenience of grocery store chains for their everyday shopping needs; reserving trips to the tržnice for weekends, or not at all. Those respondents who did frequent the tržnice often referred to the importance of the space in providing an authentic cultural experience, or better-quality food options.

While these trends are important to understanding the relationships between consumers and the tržnice, they do little to explain the relationship between consumers and retail chains. In some ways, these relationships were beyond the scope of my research questions. As I became more interested in the relationships between the tržnice and retail chains, I had to consider what motivates Croats to shop at retail chains, as well as the tržnice. Several studies conducted by

Croatian scholars provide some key insight into these relationships.

The rise of supermarkets and corporate grocery chains is a relatively new phenomenon in

Croatia. In the Yugoslav era, small private stores, the tržnice, and socially owned enterprise chains (consisting of worker-owned and state managed, small and medium sized stores) dominated the landscape. The tržnice were the preferred, primary suppliers of fresh fruits and

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vegetables from farmers. Stores were mostly responsible for supplying processed or packaged foods. Privatization of socially owned enterprises began in the early 1990s, which contributed to the rise of domestic supermarkets by the end of the decade. In the early 2000s, foreign direct investment in the retail sector introduced international chains to the Croatian consumer. Retail chains have since grown to become the largest providers of fresh fruits and vegetables, due to relationships with farmers and wholesalers, ultimately replacing the tržnice as the most popular spaces for these sales (Reardon et. al., 2003).

This is important. In the previous two chapters, I have demonstrated the ways that the tržnice are an integral component to economic and identity practice in Zagreb, as well as other

Croatian cities. I analyzed the multi-scalar attempts to preserve those aspects of the tržnice that are most ‘authentic’, most notably the ‘real kumica’. And, I explored the various ways that undesirable sellers and practices, specifically resellers and ethnic minorities, have been disciplined out of the tržnice. Despite all this, chain stores are the most popular places for people in Croatia to shop. It is not just convenience that draws people to chain stores, but also ethnocentric notions of what types of places and stores offer quality products and services.

Consumers in Croatia were accustomed to shopping in chain stores, because of the prevalence of socially owned enterprise chains. Some of those chains, most notably Konzum, which I discuss below, are still active, and incredibly popular today. The country of origin of chains and the perceived quality of the products they are selling also influence consumer shopping preferences. Just like the tržnice, some practices and characteristics of retail chains are more desirable than others. A 2012 study found that a Croatian consumer’s ethnocentric tendencies could predict purchasing intentions towards domestically produced products, compared to products from the former Yugoslavia and the EU (Renko et. al., 2012). Another

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study published in 2013 highlighted the demographic factors that contribute to the likelihood that a consumer in Croatia would exhibit ethnocentric tendencies. Older consumers, who are less educated, with lower income, and highly religious beliefs are more likely to express ethnocentric tendencies in their consumption habits (Matić, 2013).

Ethnocentric tendencies play less of a role in Croatian consumers’ choice of grocery retailers themselves. A 2010 study found that there is not a significant difference in attitude towards domestic and foreign retailers when it comes to perceptions of store quality, prices and promotions, and convenience. However, foreign retailers are perceived to offer better services, like free parking and check-out speed, while domestic retailers are perceived to have more convenient store locations and offering higher quality products (Anić 2010). The findings in these studies correlate with the relationships that I describe later in this chapter. Retail chains strategically advertise their products and services as high quality, as well as fitting into specific

Croatian and European identities and lifestyles. They appeal to Croatian identities by drawing on their products as rooted in tradition, family, and quality. They also relate to European values by emphasizing the diversity of choices that they offer, and the modern amenities they provide.

Popular Retail Chains

Increased foreign investment in Croatia has led to an increasing number of corporate chains with foreign origins. Spar and Interspar, a global grocery chain with Dutch origins, has over thirty locations in Zagreb alone (SPAR Hrvatska 2017). Several German chains, Lidl

(2017), Bila (SPAR Hrvatska 2017), Metro (2017), and Kaufland (Kaufland Hrvatska 2017) also have a strong presence with over twenty stores in Zagreb, combined. Drugstore chains, like

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Germany’s Drogerie Markt (dm), with over fifty locations in the greater Zagreb area, seem to be on every corner (Drogerie Markt Hrvatska 2017).14

Most foreign owned grocery chains are located in malls and shopping centers that are not necessarily conveniently located in the city center. Their less centralized location means that there is more opportunity for the development of larger stores, with accompanying parking lots and garages. This helps support the association of foreign chains with better services and/or free parking (Anić 2010). Drogerie Markt however, is an exception, with accessible locations all over the city, and some stores near the tržnice, which as I argue below, can impact the ‘traditional’ landscape of the markets.

Domestic grocery and drugstore chains are much more widespread and accessible.

Konzum (2017) is the largest and most popular grocery chain, with over two-hundred locations in the greater Zagreb area. Konzum stores vary in size from small neighborhood markets, to large supermarkets that easily compete with some of the large foreign-based chains. Konzum has its origins in the Yugoslav era, and is owned by Agrokor, a joint-stock company that controls many Croatian food brands and retailers. Kozmo, also owned by Agrokor, is a drugstore chain, providing similar products and services to that of Germany’s Drogerie Markt. There are nineteen

Kozmo stores in Zagreb. Other notable chains include Diona (2017), with over forty stores in

Zagreb, Plodine (2017) with four Zagreb locations, and Tommy (2014), a chain based in the coastal city of Split, which has two Zagreb locations.

Domestic bakery chains are also incredibly popular. In Zagreb, there are twenty Klara

(2016), thiry-eight Pan Pek (2016), sixty-seven Mlinar (2017), and over twenty-five Pekara

14 Clothing and restaurant chains continue to expand in Croatia, as well. Fast food chains, like McDonalds and Kentucky Fried Chicken, have a growing presence. And, clothing stores, like Benneton and H&M, are incredibly popular. Starbucks has yet to break into the Croatian market, in great part due to Croatia’s coffee culture, which discourages the fast-paced, grad-and-go, model of the coffee chain.

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Dubravica (2015) bakery locations. Many of these bakeries have long histories in Croatia, but saw most of their growth in the post-1990 economic landscape. For example, Klara (2016) first started production in 1909, before becoming a socially owned enterprise in the 1960’s, and eventually succeeding as a private retailer and wholesaler beginning in 1994. Most of these bakeries specialize in pastries, breads, and sandwiches.

Many of these domestic grocery and bakery chains have opened stores inside, or adjacent to, Zagreb’s tržnice. Their ties to Croatian history legitimizes them in these ‘traditional’ spaces, but also standardizes and corporatizes the tržnice. In addition to the expansion of retail grocery and bakery chains, it is important to note the effect large producers have also had on the landscape of the tržnice, and the shopping habits of consumers. Large meat, dairy, or processed food producers, like Pik, Dukat, or Vindija, respectively, have seen their brands expand, not just into retail chains, but also into market stalls at the tržnice.

Croatia continues to have a growing market for grocery, drugstore, and bakery chains, and while small, individually owned enterprises still exist, corporate chains are taking over as the most popular and accessible places for consumers in Croatia to purchase their everyday needs.

The increasing accessibility and popularity of corporate chains is not circumstantial. Instead, chains have facilitated their own growth through a strategic placement of themselves both geographically and discursively in the lives of consumers. As I will demonstrate in the rest of this chapter, chains have promoted their products and services as part of specific Croatian and

European lifestyles, while they have simultaneously located themselves geographically in relation to the tržnice, the spaces and places associated with traditional or authentic shopping practices. These strategies have not only impacted the landscape of the tržnice, but also make corporate chains a part of the debates over being and belonging in Croatia and Europe.

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Corporate Chains and Practicing Croatian and European Identities

Corporate chains in Croatia are strategic about the messages that they use to attract the most consumers. Leading up to Croatia’s EU accession, foreign-based and domestic chains alike ran specials, published print ads, and secured TV slots to advertise their stores and products as exhibiting the best of Croatian and European lifestyles. These advertising schemes attempted to draw connections between the products and services offered at chain stores and the cultural, political, and economic interconnectedness promoted by the EU. Here, I highlight three intersecting themes that corporate chains emphasized in specials and advertisements: the quality and diversity of products offered in stores, the triumph of Croatia’s accession to the EU, and philanthropic commitments to local, regional, and global communities.

While the scope of my research does not allow for an examination of the effectiveness of these efforts on Croatian consumers, analyzing these themes lends to understanding some important relationships between changing economic and identity practices in and beyond the tržnice. Foreign-based chains primarily focused on the new and diverse ‘European’ products and prices that they offer consumers, and their commitment to the EU’s goals of internationalization and integration in Croatia. Domestic chains also draw on the benefits of Europeanization, but with an additional focus on how chains can also offer the local, traditional, and authentic products that Croatian consumers desire. In these ways, corporate chains frame themselves as offering the best of European and Croatian ideals, lifestyles, and identities. This has remained an important strategy for corporate chains long after Croatia’s EU accession. Here I focus on a few advertisements that appeared around the time of my fieldwork in 2012-2013, in addition to some more current examples.

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On the surface, the use of both Croatian and European identities appears contradictory.

Chains promise experiences that are both traditional and modern, local and global. Yet, these tactics represent the same type of negotiation that I already described as taking place in the tržnice. The image of the ‘real kumica’ is rooted in Croatian tradition and authenticity, but connects to other familiar European figures. The promotion and preservation of the kumica depends on her connection to both Croatian and European identities. Similarly, fiscalization is sold as a European value to encourage fiscal responsibility and minimize the informal economy, but is also supported as a necessary step toward ending corruption in Croatia and supporting state development. Corporate chains understand the ways that Croatian and European identities are mutually constituted through the process of Europeanization. They exploit the interconnectivity of these identities to increase their profits.

Foreign-Based Chains Celebrate Unity in Diversity

In the months preceding Croatia’s accession to the EU, foreign-based chains focused their advertising efforts on both celebrating Croatia’s achievement in joining the European community, and reminding consumers of the diverse, high quality, and competitive products that their stores offered. Chains, like Germany’s Kaufland grocery stores, cut prices on hundreds of products in the months leading up to Croatia’s entrance to the EU (Figure 4.1). Spar welcomed

Croatia to the EU with a public statement that introduced months of lower prices:

“We welcome entry to the European Union and we sincerely look forward to Croatia becoming a full member of the Union. Due to its international roots, we in SPAR-in Croatia are aware of all the opportunities provided by EU accession and we are prepared to provide our customers with even better offers and more favorable prices” (Poslovni Dnevnik 2013).

Ads and promotions, like these, emphasize the potential economic opportunity that Croatia’s EU membership will provide for consumers, but a closer look reveals even more interesting

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connections between the products and services corporate chains offer, and European and

Croatian identities.

In June of 2013, the German chain, Lidl, published print ads displaying both Croatian and

EU colors and symbols, “Welcome to the Union of Low Prices,” (Figure 4.2), and “The best from Croatia, the best from Europe,” (Figure 4.3). By using the colors and symbols of the

Croatian and EU flags, these ads draw on a sense of identity and belonging in both Croatia and the EU. In addition to promoting low prices overall, these print ads also display images of pineapples, an imported fruit, on sale for that week, and advertised as “Refreshing for hot days!”

Advertising pineapples draws attention to the diverse, global products that chain stores can offer, and while pineapples are also easily accessible from resellers in the tržnice, chains like Lidl can easily outcompete with the price cuts and sales advertised here.

Other chains celebrated Croatia’s EU accession with special promotions. Germany’s

Drogerie Markt ran an “EU Countdown +28” (Figure 4.4) campaign. Throughout June 2013, one

Drogerie Markt store per week was selected from the various regions of Croatia. Anyone who shopped in the chosen store on the day of selection, was invited to return to the same store with their receipt, within two weeks’ time, to receive free purchases up to the amount that they spent on the day of the selection. The campaign enticed customers to visit Drogerie Markt, in the hopes of winning free purchases, but in celebrating the EU accession, and making winning selections from various regions of Croatia, Drogerie Markt effectively drew on Croatia’s geographic diversity, as a reminder that, even within the EU, Croatia would maintain its uniqueness.

This connection between regional integration and local specificity is a part of Drogerie

Markt’s overall business model. In its company mission, Drogerie Markt acknowledges the importance of internationalization:

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“The economic prospects of Europe have changed: internationality is more important than ever. dm-drogerie markt recognized the opportunity in a united Europe and with expansion to neighboring countries is successfully moving to new areas. Today, dm-drogerie markt, with more than 3,224 stores, and over 55,143 employees, is one of the largest drugstore chains in Europe. dm is represented in 12 countries: Germany, Austria, Hungary, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Romania, Bulgaria and Macedonia” (Drogerie Markt Hrvatska 2017).

Drogerie Markt acknowledges its dedication to the dream of a united Europe, and, interestingly, lists its host countries in a geographic order, generally from West to East. This demonstrates the company’s dedication to continual expansion, in the same direction as the EU. For further connections to Drogerie Markt’s dedication to regional unity, one must look no further than the company’s motto, “Here I am human (a person), here I shop”, in Croatian, “Tu sam čovjek, tu kupujem.” While shopping in Drogerie Markt, everyone shares a human quality, despite their cultural or geographic differences.

Advertising campaigns, like these, effectively draw on the perceived economic and cultural benefits of Europeanization by arguing that the strengths of foreign-based corporate chains lie in their ability to provide consumers with competitive and diverse products from all over Europe. Foreign-based chains also draw on symbols and discourses that point to the perceived cultural benefits of the process of Europeanization. Foreign-based chains argue that they can provide the best of both Croatian and European products, and point to their corporate goals of promoting internationalization, ideals that certainly speak to the EU’s overall motto of unity in diversity. These strategies are an attempt by foreign-based chains to convince consumers of the modern, international, and ‘European’ experience offered by their stores.

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Domestic Chains Focus on Daily Life and Family

Domestic chains in Croatia use similar strategies to celebrate Croatia’s EU accession, but also shift the geographic scale of their advertisements to focus more on the daily lives of

Croatian communities and families. Attention is still given to the importance of Croatia’s EU accession. Strategies, like price cuts and special promotions, are used to entice shoppers to visit specific stores. Domestic chains also refer to the ‘modern’ services and production processes that they offer customers. However, drawing on their Croatian roots is also an important strategy for domestic chains that seek to create a sense of customer loyalty, particularly as they face increased competition from the growth of foreign-based chains. Claims of ‘modern’ amenities and services combined with a focus on family, tradition, and local products also allows domestic chains to provide a close alternative to the tržnice.

The Konzum grocery chain did not miss an opportunity to celebrate Croatia’s accession to the EU. An early July print advertisement (Figure 4.5) used similar themes to the foreign- based chain advertisements that I discussed above. Colors of the EU and Croatian flags blend together with a celebratory stamp listing Croatia’s EU accession date, July 1st, 2013. The same stamp can be found later in the ad on the t-shirt of Konzum’s cartoon mascot, Cody. Cody stands next to a banner that reads: “The best from European Union kitchens.” The banner is arched by several chef hats emblazoned with various EU member-state flags. Cody is pointing to some of the weekly sales and reminding customers that Konzum has “the finest European dishes served with great savings…”

In this ad, Konzum effectively draws on the choice, diversity, and access to products that

EU membership is thought to bring consumers. The company also wants customers to know that

Konzum has been a mainstay in Croatia long before the EU negotiation process, and the rise of

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other foreign-based chains. The ad begins with the statement, “With you through life and in the

European Union”. Other Konzum ads reflect similar themes regarding the company’s dedication to Croatian products, families, and ways of life.

One notable campaign, “Vjerujem u Hrvatsku” or “I have faith (I believe) in Croatia”, is a poignant example of how Konzum seeks to show its dedication to Croatian producers and

Croatian ways of life (Konzum 2017). The fall 2013 program featured video testimonials with employees of various popular Croatian brands (i.e. the Kraš candy company, the Ledo ice cream and frozen food producer), who thank consumers for shopping at Konzum, and ultimately supporting Croatian companies and livelihoods.

Another video from the campaign provides an overview of the ways that Konzum and their shoppers support Croatian businesses. The video begins with a camera moving over the

Croatian landscape, and soft sweeping music playing in the background. The video then moves to a split screen format with one set of images displaying Croatian employees harvesting crops, packaging goods, and inspecting food for quality. These are juxtaposed with images of people preparing foods at home. While a man harvests tomatoes in a field, a woman is cutting them in her kitchen for a salad. Another woman inspects cookies on an assembly line, while a young girl eats them, while studying. One man inspects sausage production, while another makes pizza in his kitchen. And, while another man inspects ice cream bars on a conveyor belt, a mother gives an ice cream to her young daughter. These images display with a narrator’s voice overhead, extolling the values of supporting Croatian businesses and loving one’s country and people.

These videos place Konzum in the positive light of supporting Croatian businesses and workers through the products that they choose to sell in their stores. The videos also rely on some very specific images regarding gender, worker, and family norms. Families and individuals

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preparing food in the home certainly harkens to a more traditional way of life, and one that both vendors and tourism programs in the tržnice also rely on to draw supporters (see Chapter 2).

However, the images of food production and inspection draw attention to the clean, modern, and efficient practices used by major Croatian brands. While these farm and factory workers may not meet the ideal definition of a kumica, they still take pride in an honest day’s work that provides for Croatian families. Therefore, when consumers shop at Konzum, they know that they are getting a modern, high quality experience, but also one that values traditional Croatian practices and family life. As the narrator in the video declares, “We believe in all these things [Croatia, our countrymen], and we buy Croatian.”

Konzum’s parent company, Agrokor, also owns the largest Croatian drugstore chain,

Kozmo, the Croatian-based competitor to Drogerie Markt. Kozmo also ran advertising campaigns that drew on national pride to encourage customers to shop in their stores. In the fall of 2012, Kozmo ran the “I love Croatia, I shop at Kozmo,” “Volim Hrvatsku, Kupujem u Kozmu” campaign (Figure 4.6). Like other advertising campaigns, Kozmo offered discounts on many of their products, but with an added humanitarian element. Customers were encouraged to visit

Kozmo, where they could purchase a postcard. For each postcard collected, Kozmo would donate money to the effort of demining Croatian land.15 One postcard equated to approximately

1m2 of land that would be demined. The campaign ended in December 2012, with 25,000m2 earmarked for demining. Professor Dijana Pleština, director of the government office for demining, thanked Kozmo and Kozmo shoppers for their efforts:

“I am very happy that the Croatian residents expressed their love of country by buying postcards and greeting cards at Kozmo drugstore retail outlets, which, in these difficult times, also recognized the entire weight of the mine problem in the Republic of Croatia, with all its adverse consequences. Thank you to the Management and all the employees

15 There are still many landmines leftover from the dissolution of Yugoslavia in the 1990s.

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of Kozmo, and may this action be an example to other companies in Croatia” (Kozmo 2017).

The “I love Croatia, I shop at Kozmo” campaign joins the ideas of consumption with national pride in a way that goes beyond the use of symbols, and offers the opportunity to manifest as real societal change. In this way, Kozmo frames itself as a competitive retailer, with a wide-range of desirable products and sales, but also as a company with its roots in Croatia, and a desire to invest and improve Croatian society.

Croatian retail bakeries and non-retail food producers also frame themselves around the relationships between modernization, globalization, tradition, and local pride. The popular

Pekara Dubravica bakery chain frames its ‘core values’ around tradition, quality, and innovation.

The company prides itself in its traditional roots and modern business practices that provide consumers with high quality baked goods:

“To know where you’re going, you have to know where you started. We in Dubravica passed a long way from a family trade to the modern business you recognize with the successful merging of tradition with contemporary baking trends. All that we have achieved to date led us to a single thread that we guarantee we will follow in the years to come—a deep and sincere passion for baking” (Pekara Dubravica 2017).

Mlinar, which has its own bakeries, but also sells its products to retailers, like Konzum, uses similar language:

“In more than one hundred years of our baking experience, we have created a large family of customers who like bread, pastry, and sweet delicacies from our warm baking ovens. These are the values that move us forward…”

“The organization of work, the way of thinking and management, the tradition and the quality of our products are all the issues in which one can recognize the continuity of the touching care for the real needs of our buyers and consumers who support us” (Mlinar 2017).

Vindija, a large dairy, snack, and juice manufacturer with some retail stores located in or near some of Zagreb’s tržnice makes the connection between European and Croatian ideals even more explicit when discussing product quality:

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“Vindija Quality Sign [Vindija Quality Seal] is a synonym for Croatian products of European quality with a focus on functional products with additional health value. Such nutritionally valuable assortments are not only an integral part of everyday family menus but also world-class catering menus…” (Vindija 2017).

These examples point towards the ways that corporate chains have been able to appeal to both Croatian and European identities and lifestyles. Through their advertisements, mission statements, and other public relations materials, corporate chains celebrate Croatia’s entrance to the EU, and the diversity, opportunity, and modern choices that EU accession may offer. At the same time, corporate chains are also appeal to Croatian identities by focusing on the importance of tradition, family life, and healthy choices. Corporate chains are not just offering convenience and choice, they are offering a cultural experience that contributes to the (re)shaping of Croatian and European identities.

The popularity of corporate chains works alongside the image of the ‘real kumica’ and economic regulations, like fiscalization, to discipline the tržnice. Corporate chains are successful, because they offer choice, convenience, standardization, and a cultural experience that can rival that of the tržnice. In a chain store, there is no confusion over which vendors are offering the best deals, and which ones are corrupt. There are no questions regarding product safety and origin.

Chains offer the modern, capitalist, global experience that the EU promises, while also remaining connected to the local products and traditions that allow Croats to assert their national and ethnic identity. These relationships are further enhanced by the geographic location of many chain stores. Corporate chains have also been able to position themselves as the preferred alternative to the tržnice by locating stores in or near the spaces of the markets. This geographic relationship is

(re)shaping the landscape of the tržnice, and of the city.

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The Geographic Relationship between Corporate Chains and the Tržnice

Chains, like Konzum, have strategically placed themselves in relation to the tržnice in

Zagreb. Since the tržnice are already located in high traffic areas, like public squares, and residential neighborhoods, it makes good economic sense to also locate retail stores in these highly accessible areas. These strategic geographies also contribute to the image that chain stores offer a cultural experience, and represent Croatian and European values. Simply by being in, or near the tržnice, chain stores gain legitimacy as a part of the cultural experience of the city. More importantly, these geographies reveal the co-dependency between the tržnice and chain stores.

Chains need the tržnice to attract customers and insinuate themselves into the lived experience of the city. Increasingly, the tržnice also need chains to survive new legislation and changing cultural preferences that are making it harder for these markets to sustain the size and scope that they currently have.

I was struck during my observations at the number of chain stores or large vendors that are located in the tržnice. In the larger markets, like the Dolac, chain stores and large meat and dairy producers exist alongside resellers and the more traditional small producers. This seemingly contradicts the discourse of these spaces as representations of rural and traditional life.

Yet, there is little resistance to the location of chain stores within the spaces of the tržnice.

Striking vendors expressed concern over the increased popularity of chain stores, more generally, but did not highlight their specific presence in the tržnice. Instead, my observations revealed that chains and larger producers are simply seen as a normal part of the landscape of the tržnice. The presence of corporate chains and large producers is not unusual to those shoppers who see these spaces the way one older Zagreb resident explained to me; “the tržnice are just like grocery stores; it is nothing special.” Interestingly, the presence of corporate interests in the tržnice

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actually fits into the larger history of the markets. The establishment of formalized, city run market spaces was part of a project of modernization and urban development begun in the 1920s and 1930s (Chapter 1).

In what remains of this section, I describe some of the spatial relationships between chain stores and the tržnice to better illustrate the ways that these two types of marketplaces have become dependent on one another. I collected addresses from many of the popular foreign-based and domestic chains that I described above, and used Google Earth to overlay the location of chain stores with a city map, as well as the locations of Zagreb’s tržnice. These maps demonstrate the strategic ways that corporate chains have positioned themselves in relation to

European and Croatian ideals. Foreign-based grocery chains tend to be located in or near large shopping malls and plazas outside the city center, which contributes to the perception that they offer customers conveniences, like more parking (Anić 2010). More interestingly, domestic grocery and bakery chains do, in fact, seem to be clustered in or near the spaces of the tržnice.

This clustering puts chain stores front and center in the daily economic and cultural practices of

Zagreb residents. It is worth describing and explaining each of these geographic trends in more detail.

With few exceptions, foreign-based grocery chains are located outside of Zagreb’s city center. This is in part due to the availability of land and space in large shopping centers, which are also generally located in the outskirts of the city. Map 1 visualizes this relationship. The blue dots represent the locations of the Spar/Interspar, Metro, Lidl, and Kaufland grocery chains throughout Zagreb. The orange star represents Trg Bana Jelačića, the main square in the city center. Most foreign-based grocery chains are located outside of the city center and in the suburbs. This is an important spatial relationship, because being dislocated from the city center

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means that foreign-based chains can build larger stores, with more convenient parking lots and services that customers may desire. However, this disconnect from the city center does not necessarily equate with a disconnect from the tržnice.

Map 2 shows the location of the same foreign-based grocery chains alongside the location of Zagreb’s tržnice, symbolized as green squares. Many foreign-based grocery chains are located near a tržnica. This reflects the spatial relationship between the tržnice and major residential neighborhoods. Foreign-chains also want to be located close to consumers in these residential areas. The Drogerie Markt drugstore chain follows a different spatial pattern compared to other foreign-based chains. Rather than being located outside of the city center,

Drogerie Markt is dispersed throughout the entire city, and has locations near multiple tržnice

(Map 3). There are Drogerie Markt stores located just a few blocks from the Dolac, Britanski

Trg, Kvaternikov, and Utrine markets. The numerous locations of Drogerie Markt stores, both in relation to the tržnice and across the city more broadly, makes the chain incredibly accessible to customers on a daily basis.

Accessibility is only one impact of the spatial distribution of foreign-based chains. The placement of foreign-based chains in these high traffic areas creates direct competition for the tržnice. The presence of foreign-based chains so close to the tržnice draws resources and customers. This could ultimately make some of the smaller, less centrally located tržnice redundant. Customers may be more likely to shop in the larger, more convenient, and often cheaper chain stores. The threat of this competition was a cause for concern for vendors striking against fiscalization (Chapter 3). These strategically placed foreign-based chains may take the place of the tržnice as the new neighborhood markets.

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Domestic chains share an even stronger spatial relationship with the tržnice. When analyzing the addresses for Konzum grocery stores, as well as the popular domestic bakery chains, Dubravica, Klara, Mlinar, and Pan Pek, there is a strong pattern of these chains being located throughout the city center, and both in and near the spaces of the tržnice. Map 4 displays the location of Konzum stores as blue dots. There are Konzum stores located in, or very close to, the markets in the Dolac, Britanski Trg, Kvaternikov Trg, Jarun, and Trešnjevka. These are some of the largest and most frequented markets in Zagreb. The relationship between domestic bakeries and the tržnice is even stronger (Map 5). There are Dubravica chains in the Dolac and

Jarun tržnice. Klara is located in or near the Kvaternikov, Volovčica, and Trešnjevka tržnice.

Mlinar has even more locations in or near the Dolac, Savica, Trešnjevka, Trnsko, and Utrine tržnice. Pan Pek has the most locations in or near the Dolac, Britanski Trg, Kvaternikov, Jarun,

Savica, and Vrapče tržnice.

The location of domestic chains in and near the tržnice is significant, because these chains are a part of the market. In large markets, like the Dolac, chains rent spaces within the existing market structure. In centrally located markets, like Britanski Trg, chain stores share street corners with tržnice. Others, like Trešnjevka, share a strategic spatial relationship, with a

Konzum located directly across the street from the market space. These spatial relationships allow chain stores to become a part of the cultural experience of the tržnice. These locations also reinforce the discourses of tradition, family, and Croatian identity that domestic chains promote in their missions and advertisements.

The presence of chains impacts the landscape of the tržnice in multiple ways. Despite the fact that the tržnice are associated with local and traditional Croatian identities and practices, the increasing presence of chains and large producers is another example of the ways in which these

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spaces are more complex than their idealized representations. The presence of so many chains demonstrates how unlikely it is that the ‘real kumica’ is, was, or will be the most sought after tržnice vendor. Resellers and ethnic minorities, whose positions are already challenged by legislation and cultural practices, face greater competition from chain stores. Chains also indirectly support measures, like fiscalization, by bringing a regulated and standardized experience to the tržnice.

The presence of chains in the tržnice does not necessarily contradict the importance of these spaces to Croatian or European ideals and identity practices. As the meanings of being

Croatian continue to change in relation to Europeanization, the modern and standardized conveniences offered by corporate chains seem to fit right in with the new expectations of what it means to be Croatian in Europe. Corporate chains are able to discursively and geographically link themselves to spaces of local and traditional identity, like the tržnice, and therefore position themselves in relation to the ideals and practices of being Croatian and European.

Conclusion: Corporate Chains and Modernizing the Tržnice

Both domestic and foreign-based corporate chains have found ways to successfully connect themselves to idealized European and Croatian economic and identity practices.

Corporate chains are increasingly popular, because of the standardized, modern, competitive, and convenient choices they are believed to offer consumers. They are more accessible, because of their strategic geographic placement in and near the places where Croatian consumers perform daily economic and cultural practices, in particular, in the tržnice. The use of advertisements, special promotions, and mission statements that reflect European and Croatian values further presents corporate chains as invested in Croatian families and communities, as well as the

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European project. While it is beyond the scope of this dissertation to examine the effects of corporate chain strategies on consumers, the increasing popularity and accessibility of chains does have discernable effects on the spaces of the tržnice.

At first glance, corporate chains seem to pose a serious threat to the already vulnerable tržnice. The future of the tržnice are uncertain due to new legislation, like fiscalization, and the increased disciplining of vendors and market practices that are seen as less desirable, compared to the mythologized perception of the ‘real kumica’ as an authentic and traditional market experience. The increasing presence of chains in and near the tržnice, and throughout Zagreb more broadly, can be seen as further marginalizing vendors, producers, and craftsman in the tržnice that are already struggling to compete. This is certainly the argument that was made by the tržnice vendors, who were striking against the fiscalization of cash transactions. Viewed in this context, the growth of corporate chains can be seen as one of many economic, political, and social processes that are slowly destroying the tržnice.

However, the geographic and discursive ways that corporate chains position themselves in relation to the tržnice and Croatian and European identities reflects a much larger process that may not destroy the tržnice, but instead, significantly alters their appearance and the practices they are associated with. The dream of ‘unity in diversity’ has produced a tension between those characteristics that are seen to unify all ‘Europeans’ (i.e. shared history, modernization, development, a dedication to the free movement of people, goods, and capital) and those things that make each member-state unique (i.e. ethnicity, national pride, language, culture). As Croatia has tried to find its own place within the European community, individuals, communities, and the state have had to negotiate how European practices, ideals, and expectations fit within their

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existing national practices (or do not). The increasing presence and popularity of corporate chains in and near the tržnice are a reflection of this process.

Instead of destroying the tržnice, corporate chains may actually save them. As changing consumer preferences and increased legislation makes it harder for vendors to compete, corporate chains are ready to step in, preserving the spaces of the tržnice, with or without individual vendors. Herein lies a huge contradiction. Corporate chains and the tržnice are co- dependent. The tržnice are threatened by the increased popularity and accessibility of chain stores. Yet, the presence of chains in the tržnice may preserve these spaces in some form.

Similarly, corporate chains must compete with the cultural importance of the tržnice, but they need them for access to customers and ideal retail spaces. Viewed in this context, the tržnice may not be destroyed at all. Instead, their future just may look a little different, with fewer resellers, more chains, and an even more narrow depiction of how these spaces represent Croatian identity and culture.

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Figure 4.1: “Na Kaufland se možete osloniti! Već od 2. svibnja više od 500 proizvoda po trajno sniženim cijenama!” “You can rely on Kaufland! From the 2nd of May, more than 500 products at permanently reduced prices!” (Kaufland 2013).

Figure 4.2: Lidl print ad June 2013, “Dobrodošli u uniju niskih cijena!”- “Welcome to the Union of Low prices!” (photo of ad taken by author)

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Figure 4.3: Lidl print ad, June 2013, “Najbolje iz Hrvatske, najbolje iz Europe!”- “The best from Croatia, the best from Europe!” (photo of ad taken by author)

Figure 4.4: “dm EU countdown,” (Drogerie Markt Hrvatska 2013).

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Figure 4.5: Konzum print ad, July 2013: “S Vama kroz život i u Europskoj uniji”- “With You through life and in the European Union” (photo of ad taken by author)

Figure 4.6: Kozmo print ad, November 2012: “Volim Hrvatsku, Kupujem u Kozmu”- “I love Croatia, I shop at Kozmo.” (Kozmo 2012).

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Map 1: The location of foreign-based grocery chains in relation to Zagreb’s city center.

Map 2: The location of foreign-based grocery chains in relation to the tržnice.

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Map 3: The location of Drogerie Markt drugstore chains in relation to the tržnice.

Map 4: The location of Konzum stores in relation to the tržnice.

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Map 5: The location of domestic bakery chains in relation to the tržnice.

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Chapter 5: Conclusion—The Limits of ‘Unity in Diversity’

“I mi smo bili izbjeglice, tim ljudima treba pomoći koliko se može” “We were refugees, these people need as much help as they can,” (Butigan and Panić 2015).

This dissertation offers a glimpse into how individuals, communities, and states respond to social, economic, and political change. The fears, apprehensions, and expectations levied against Zagreb’s tržnice expose the tensions and contradictions in the EU’s motto of ‘unity in diversity’. The processes of Europeanization in Croatia have led to a multi-scalar (re)shaping of the meanings of being and belonging in Croatia. In the tržnice, vendors, shoppers, and the state negotiate which identities and practices fit within both traditional Croatian ideals, and modern

European expectations. This allows for the simultaneous promotion of corporate grocery chains, and local, rural vendors, like the kumica.

In support of these ideals, Croatian communities and institutions discipline ‘the other’; those identities and practices that do not fit well within either Croatian or European ways of life.

Shoppers and legislation, like fiscalization, target ethnic minorities and resellers, arguing that their selling practices are corrupt and their products do not meet Croatian and European standards. The process of discriminating against ethnic minorities (particularly Albanians and the

Roma) is a strategy used to identify national authenticity, and it is at work beyond the tržnice.

Ethnicity and religion were and are border-makers in the processes of nation and state-building in Croatia and the former Yugoslavia, which resulted in war and ethnic cleansing in the 1990s.

While the EU strives to be a community of ethnic and national inclusion in opposition to the kind of nationalism that tore Yugoslavia apart, fears of ‘the other’ also continue to frame the meanings of being and belonging in Europe. As I discussed in Chapter 1, Croatia and the former

Yugoslavia have historically been viewed as ‘the other within’ Europe. Croatia’s inclusion in the

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EU represents shifting conceptions of what it means to belong in the region. Still, concerns over the social, economic, and political dangers of outsiders plague the EU’s goals of ‘unity in diversity’. As I close this dissertation, I want to briefly examine how perceived threats from outside Europe’s borders, and particularly the ongoing refugee crisis, increasingly threaten the dream of ‘unity in diversity’. Much like in the tržnice, Croatia’s multi-scalar responses to the refugee crisis demonstrate the contradictions inherent in the EU project. While the response from many EU member-states has been to entrench and close borders to refugees, Croatian communities have welcomed outsiders, seeming to embody the best of ‘unity in diversity’.

Challenges to ‘Unity in Diversity’: The European Refugee Crisis

There has been a rise of populism and nationalism in Europe in the last several years. The

2008 economic crisis, threat of international terrorism, and the 2015-2016 refugee crisis has increased feelings of insecurity and fear of ‘the other’ for many Europeans. These fears culminated in the shocking 2016 vote by the UK to leave the European Union, known as Brexit.

Proponents of Brexit argue that the EU threatens national sovereignty economically, politically, and culturally. For many, immigration is the primary source of these threats to sovereignty.

Fears over immigration increased with the 2015-2016 arrival of over one million migrants and refugees from conflicts in Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, and other predominantly

Muslim countries. This massive influx of people exposed the weaknesses of European institutions in dealing with this kind of large scale crisis. Individual countries, like Hungary, began closing their borders, turning people back to their home countries. Refugees, with their sights set on starting a new life in the most developed Western European countries, were held in camps in Turkey and Greece.

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Images of thousands of people stuck at EU borders, crowded in refugee camps, and trying to cross the Mediterranean shocked the global community. The chaos culminated when the body of a three-year-old Syrian boy washed up on Turkish shores in September 2015. While this produced sympathy and outrage in many people, others saw the arrival of the refugees as a growing threat to European safety, sovereignty, and culture. Many countries tightened immigration restrictions, because of an inability to house and properly provide for the new arrivals, and a belief that members of ISIL, or other Islamic terror groups, would pose as refugees to gain access to European territory. The UN found no evidence that migration would increase terror attacks, and warned that tighter immigration restrictions would produce more insecurity (Dearden 2016). These findings did little to curb existing fears, especially after the

2015 terror attacks in Paris and the 2016 bombings in Brussels. Both attacks were claimed by

ISIL, although neither was carried out by refugees. Still, populist propaganda effectively used the alarm over international terrorism for political gain.

In Croatia and the former Yugoslavia, the refugee crisis produced a very different reaction. In Chapter 1, I discussed the historic role that Southeastern Europe has played as a politically contested territory and a border between the East and West. With the onset of the refugee crisis, Southeastern Europe once again found itself playing a central role in European political affairs. However, instead of increased anti-immigrant and anti-EU sentiment, in some ways, the people of the Balkans seemed to exhibit the best of ‘unity in diversity’.

The Refugee Crisis in Southeastern Europe

Using existing routes, migrants and refugees arrived at Europe’s borders primarily through the Mediterranean. In 2015, more than 800,00 people arrived in Greece and the Eastern

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Mediterranean, mostly fleeing the Syrian Civil War, as well as Iraq and Afghanistan (Frontex

2017). From Turkey, migrants and refugees made their way to Greece, and then proceeded to travel the ‘Western Balkan Route’ through Macedonia, Serbia, and Hungary to eventually gain access to countries like, Austria, Germany, France, and the UK. In September of 2015, Hungary completed a border fence to halt illegal crossings. This caused the migration route to shift, and hundreds of thousands of people began crossing from Serbia into Croatia, still looking for access to European countries further west (Frontex 2017).

The migration route passed from Western Serbia to Eastern Croatia. This area is rural, predominantly participates in agriculture, and saw some of the heaviest fighting during the war in the 1990s. For these reasons, the region hardly had the infrastructure to effectively manage the large number of migrants and refugees in such a short span of time. Camps were setup for arrivals, but were quickly overcrowded and depleted of resources. The Croatian government transported people from the eastern border to shelters in and around Zagreb, but the general policy was to allow people to pass, and provide them transportation to Slovenia or Hungary.

Poor communication between states increased tensions, and as Hungary closed its borders,

Slovenia also began building a barbed wire fence (Sisgoreo 2016).

The Croatian government began to differentiate between people arriving from ‘war affected areas’ and ‘non-war zones’, only admitting those people from ‘war affected areas’.

Troubles continued as a more conservative Croatian government took power, headed by the

Croatian Democratic Party (HDZ). They ultimately placed harsher restrictions on the number of migrants and refugees entering the country. By March of 2016, Croatia’s borders effectively closed, which stifled the ‘Western Balkan Route’ (Sisgoreo 2016). The enormous number of people attempting to pass through Croatia proved to be too much for the state to handle.

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The response at the local scale was quite different. Southeastern Europe’s tenuous history with ethnic and religious difference and nationalism might have produced an unfriendly welcome for migrants and refugees seeking to pass through the region. Instead, individuals and communities were an integral force in assisting people as they crossed into Croatian territory. In small border towns, there were reports of villagers setting up stalls with food, water, and clothing for people passing through (Sisgoreo 2016). Several organizations were founded to collect donations and assist with refugee placement and transportation, for example the “Initiative for

Refugee Assistance— ‘Welcome’” (Dobrodošli 2017) and “Are you Syrious?” (2017). Social media also played an important role in connecting Croatian communities to migrants and refugees. A Facebook group, called “Dear Refugees: Welcome to Croatia,” (2017) made headlines when it published a map of suspected landmine territory as a warning to those passing through the country on foot.

Croatian communities offered assistance to migrants and refugees, because they felt connected to them on a personal level. During the dissolution of Yugoslavia, many Croats were pushed out of their homes, especially near the eastern border with Serbia. When asked how they felt about the influx of migrants and refugees, people in the border town of Tovarnika sympathized, “we were refugees, too” (Butigan and Panić 2015). This statement became a bit of a slogan for the refugee crisis in Croatia, represented on banners for refugees to see as they entered a town, and even spawning art exhibitions.16

Again, the Croatian case illustrates the tensions and contradictions of European belonging. Throughout this dissertation, I have demonstrated how bodies, practices, and places in

16 Refugees in Serbia received similar support from the local community. The experience of the war in the 1990s made locals sympathetic to the experience of migrants. Serbian Prime Minister, Aleksandar Vučić even stated that “We are more European than some Europeans when it comes to migrants and some other issues,” (Denti 2015).

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the tržnice are preserved or destroyed for their adherence to Croatian and European values.

Resellers and ethnic minorities, like Albanians and the Roma, are marked as undesirable, corrupt, and in need of discipline in the tržnice. Yet, the 800,000 people estimated to have crossed Croatia’s border between 2015 and 2016 were welcomed. Where the Croatian state and

EU failed, local communities stepped in to support migrant and refugee travelers with no

European or Croatian roots. Croats felt connected to the refugees in a different way; not through ethnicity, religion, or nationality, but through a shared understanding of what it means to be ripped from someone’s home, community, and family. While countries, like Germany, also supported an open-door policy for migrants and refugees, other EU member-states felt threatened by the new arrivals.

Hope for a ‘European’ Future?

The differentiated responses to the refugee crisis further illustrate how European belonging is debated and practiced across space, scale, and identity. While the EU promotes the dissolution of borders, new walls are being built, national boundaries entrenched, and cultural borders defended. Economic uncertainty, the fear of terrorism, and the refugee crisis seem to have moved the EU to, at the very least, a narrower definition of ‘unity in diversity’, and at the very worst, towards a more authoritarian, divisive, and exclusionary community.

Yet, in Croatia, the response to the refugee crisis shows that Croatian communities still seem to be holding on to the dream of European ‘unity in diversity’. It is not a perfect picture. In the spaces of the tržnice, Croats still border and order those people and practices that do not meet

European and Croatian ideals. Right wing, nationalist political parties, ideologies, and people remain immensely popular. There is still a great deal of tension between Croats and other former

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Yugoslav groups, especially Serbs. The discrimination of ethnic minorities in both daily practice and at an institutional level continues. Croatian society has a long way to go. However, the recent experience of ethnic cleansing and war is a stark reminder to many Croats of the dangers of nationalism. This is perhaps why local communities were so welcoming of the refugees and migrants that crossed their borders. For all its problems, becoming ‘European’ offers some hope that the mistakes of the past will not repeat.

The inclusion and exclusion of ‘the other’ in Croatia and the EU reveals the multitude of contradictions present in the processes of identity production, economic development, and globalization. Making sense of these contradictions requires an ever shifting and flexible gaze that re-visualizes space, place, and scale. Geographers are uniquely positioned to expose the linkages and fractures between daily practice and global geopolitical shifts. The findings in this dissertation demonstrate that there is no limit to where and how identities, politics, and economics are shaped and performed.

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VITA Jennifer L. Titanski-Hooper EDUCATION______

Ph.D. December 2017. Department of Geography, The Pennsylvania State University Dissertation Title: “ ‘The Belly of Zagreb’: Identity, Development, and Europeanization in Croatia’s Open-Air Markets”, Defense Passed: August 17, 2017

M.A. 2010. Department of Geology & Geography, West Virginia University Thesis Title: “Ethnicity, Boundaries, and Nationalism in a ‘European’ Croatia”

B.S. 2008. Secondary Education: Social Studies, Lock Haven University of Pennsylvania

Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Professional Teaching Certificate. 2008.

POSITIONS______

Assistant Professor of Geography. 2017-present. Department of Political Science and Geography, Francis Marion University, Florence, SC

Geography Instructor. 2016-2017. Department of Urban Affairs and Geography, Wright State University, Dayton, OH

Graduate Student Instructor. 2013-2016. Department of Geography, The Pennsylvania State University, University Park, PA

SELECTED PUBLICATIONS______

Titanski-Hooper, J. 2017. Review of “The Euro and its Rivals: Currency and the Construction of a Transnational City by Gustav Peebles,” Material Culture, pp. 118-120, 49(1).

SELECTED AWARDS AND GRANTS______

2014 The E. Willard Miller Doctorate Paper in Geography Award 2013 AAG Cultural Geography Specialty Group Student Research Grant 2012 Fulbright Research Fellowship; Croatia 2012 Foreign Language Area Studies (FLAS) Grant; Bosnian, Croatian, Serbian 2012 The Penn State College of Earth and Mineral Sciences Centennial Travel Award 2011 The Penn State SWIG Nancy Brown Geography Community Service Award 2011 Foreign Language Area Studies (FLAS) Grant; Bosnian, Croatian, Serbian