A History Retold Part II

How can a land with so much history and culture be so unprogressive and underdeveloped? The truth is Bulgaria has always been a few decades behind the rest of Europe, riddled with corruption and always struggling to find its national identity. As proud as I am of its contributions to human history and of the bountiful wonders found within its borders, at times I find myself ashamed of Bulgaria's backwardness and how much catching up with the modern world it still has to do. Yet, since moving here and immersing myself in the history and culture of my Bulgarian heritage I find a renewed curiosity to uncover its tortured past, one that includes centuries of subjugation under foreign rule that has stunted its national identity. Just as darkness was lifting in Europe and the Renaissance began flowering in the west, a dark cloud was rolling over Bulgaria at the end of the 14th century. The Ottoman Turks completely captured Bulgaria in 1396, cutting it off from the rest of the continent and imposing their imperial power over the Bulgarian people for the next 500 years.

The Roman amphitheater and National Revival houses in Plovdiv (Credit: Robert A. Elias)

The Turkish Yoke is traditionally seen as a period of darkness and suffering, ironically Bulgaria's Dark Ages during Europe's Golden Age of the Renaissance. The Bulgarian empire lost its national and ecclesiastical independence. The Bulgarian nobility was destroyed and the peasantry was enslaved to Turkish masters. Some historical accounts of this period detail mass conversions, widespread atrocities, and severe oppression that took place at the hands of the Ottomans. There is no denying the suffering that occurred during this period of Bulgaria's history. But every story has two sides, and this one is no exception. Other accounts of this time period describe Bulgaria as tolerable under the Ottoman Empire, and that the Turks did not forcibly attempt to populate Bulgaria with its own people or to convert all Bulgarians to Islam. In fact, under Ottoman rule, Bulgarians became part of the millet system, a relatively tolerant form of government that guaranteed its conquered people the right to profess and practice their religion, a limited self-governance in the fields of education, culture, religion, and often also in management of local administrative affairs. It was not in the Ottoman government's interest to stir the pot in its subjugated provinces and experience a significant drop in taxes collected from its non-Muslim Bulgarian population nor to see their richest province in the Bulgarian territory engulfed in sectarian wars.

Many people prefer to imagine Ottoman Bulgaria and its cities as miserable, muddy slums with retrograde architecture, lacking any public amenities. But it's important to note that Bulgaria also boasted some of the most representative works of Ottoman architecture in the Balkans as a result of the efforts of high ranking notables of the central government in Istanbul. During Ottoman reign Sofia was promoted to the status of capital of Rumeli, one of the largest and wealthiest Ottoman provinces, and played an important role as an administrative stronghold. This prominent imperial period in Bulgaria's history is not only missing from the cultural memory of modern Bulgarians, it has been deliberately destroyed. After Bulgaria gained independence from the Ottomans in the later 19th century there was a widespread effort to demolish any trace of Ottoman presence, particularly in the capital city of Sofia. Ottoman architecture was torn down on a grand scale to give way to modern, European-style urbanism, all the while touting Bulgaria's ancient Roman and Thracian history. In this way Bulgarian sought to achieve the perfect blend of European antiquity and modernity, while denying its oriental Ottoman influences.

My husband and I recently visited the National History Museum in Sofia that features artifacts, art, and treasures spanning Bulgaria's ancient history from the Neolithic Age through the mid-20th century. There are five permanent exhibition halls separated chronologically paying homage to distinct periods of Bulgarian history. As soon as we entered the fourth room, Bulgaria during the Ottoman Rule (1396 – 1878), we noticed a stark difference from the rest of the rooms. All of the artifacts on display were of Christian Orthodox religious icons, scripts, and texts. Unlike all of the other rooms, the walls of the fourth exhibition room featured paragraphs of verbose text, clearly communicating a specific narrative rather than descriptions of the artifacts themselves. The narrative focused on the achievements of the Christian Orthodox Church and emphasized Bulgarian's identity as faithful Balkan Christians. The breadth of ecclesiastical works and Orthodox traditions upheld by Bulgarians is undeniable; however what does seem to be denied is Bulgaria's multicultural ethnic history that has always included minority groups, including Jews and Muslims, the latter of which includes a significant population of Turks and Roma.

There was not a single Ottoman relic on display at the National History Museum, nor any historical reference to life in the prosperous Rumelia Province. It left us wanting more, and with a fragmented idea of such a profound period of Bulgaria's history. No matter how hard it tries to repudiate its Ottoman past, Bulgaria cannot change history. These 500 years of Ottoman influence undoubtedly left its mark on the Bulgarian identity from our cuisine and culture to our architecture and language. You can have some of the best Baklava outside of Istanbul right here in Sofia; Bulgaria is home to the oldest active Muslim mosque in the Balkans, dating back to the 14th century; our vernacular includes many words of Turkish origin that are still used today -- all influences that add to the richness of Bulgaria's multicultural history.

Photos 1 & 4 from the fourth exhibition room in the National History Museum (Credit: Robert A. Elias) Photos 2 & 3 of deteriorating Ottoman era architecture (Credit: Pod Tepeto)

'Those in power write history,' and it certainly appears as though there is an unauthentic narrative being weaved into Bulgaria's cultural identity. By destroying Ottoman era infrastructure and denouncing Ottoman rule, Bulgaria tried to write its own version of history, but the evolution of society doesn't work that way. A richness in culture comes from honoring the history that has brought us here, and in order to evolve as a society we must build upon the foundations of our ancestors. How stable of a foundation is it if we try and chisel away a layer and build upon rubble? Can we form a true identity as a nation if we deny centuries of history, as painful and humiliating as it may be? This kind of selective historical representation only underscores the pervasive discrimination against minority groups that still exists in Bulgaria today, and prevents it from evolving into a progressive, tolerant modern democracy. The ironic truth of Bulgaria's history retold is that, while the country gained independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1878 thanks to Mother Russia (and other players, but let's face it, it's called the Russo-Turkish War), Bulgaria fell under Russia's Communist regime mere decades later.

The years following the demise of the Ottoman Empire up until 1946 when Bulgaria was declared a People's Republic are commonly referred to as the Third Bulgarian Kingdom, during which time Bulgaria made efforts to modernize its political, economic, and cultural spheres. The monarchy was restored to its glory under tsars like Ferdinand and Boris III, meanwhile prominent politicians, writers, and cultural figures like Alexander Stamboliyski, Ivan Vazov, and Aleko Konstantinov helped transform Bulgaria into a modern European state. Less than 50 years into its Third Kingdom, Bulgaria was once again faced with a series of unfortunate events that halted independence and modernization in its tracks. Cue the Balkan Wars, World War I, the Great Depression and World War II, the most devastating years in modern human history. Not the most opportune time for Bulgaria to advance its cultural and national identity. On the contrary, Bulgaria suffered tremendously during the first World War. By the autumn of 1918, approximately 900,000 Bulgarian men, nearly 40 percent of the male population, had been drafted. The army suffered 300,000 casualties, including 100,000 killed, the most severe per capita losses of any country involved in the war. Bulgaria was punished for its part in World War I by the Treaty of Neuilly, which assigned parts of its territory to Romania, the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes (subsequently called Yugoslavia), and some of its Aegean territories to the Allies, who later turned them over to Greece in 1920. Bulgaria also was disarmed and subjected to a heavy burden of reparations. Talk about a terrible blow to its ego, not to mention setting Bulgaria back politically and economically, only to be followed by more devastation and destabilization during the second World War, which I need not revisit in much detail here.

Destruction in Sofia in 1944 after the bombing (Credit: Tsanko Lavrenov)

As western Europe began rebuilding after World War II, piecing back together its fabric of life, Bulgaria fell behind the Iron Curtain and under the hammer and sickle. And so the cycle of oppression began anew, with Bulgaria's national identity and sovereignty falling victim to Russia's Soviet vision for the future. In order to transform the mostly rural and agricultural Bulgarian society into a productive state, the Communist Party began systematically industrializing the country, moving millions of people from rural villages to the urban city centers. These sweeping changes also brought a new level of prosperity for Bulgaria, particularly under Todor Zhivkov, the de facto leader of The People's Republic of Bulgaria. During his 35-year career in power Bulgaria saw unprecedented political and economic stability, marked by complete submission of Bulgaria to Soviet directives. I can understand why many people, including my grandparents, often think nostalgically back to those prosperous years. There was a sense of safety, security and community, of course all under the guise of the Communist propaganda machine, but life was decent for the majority of Bulgarians. You didn't have a lot, but neither did anyone else around you, and I suppose it made life more tolerable. American history books will tell you one thing and Bulgarian history books may tell you another, but the intimate stories of everyday people reveal more about this controversial period of time than any textbook can ever retell. But no matter what version you hear, remember, history is in the eye of the beholder.

My grandmother recently told me that they owned a lovely house in Kazanlak when the town was still mostly rural and homes were spread out through the countryside. I've always known my grandparents to live on the fifth floor of the concrete block in their humble one bedroom apartment where they raised their two daughters. "It was the modern way, to live in a new apartment like in the big city," my grandmother remarks as she tells me they had to give up their house in exchange for two apartments in the newly constructed housing blocks. The Communist Party seized rural land across Bulgaria, bulldozed people's homes, built uniform concrete slabs, and sold people back a dream of modernity and progress. Yet, my grandmother doesn't bemoan her fate as determined by the Soviet regime. She and my grandfather were happily employed, had food to put on the table, and were able to provide their children with a good eduction. In fact, my mother fondly remembers her youth, attending an elite mathematical high school, summer camps in the mountains, and cultural activities, all in a time before the addictive influence of iPhones and social media.

Photos 1 & 3 of the fall of Communism (Credit: Viktoria Ershova) Photo 2 of my mother and aunt in their youth league uniforms. Photo 4 of my mother and fellow pioneer classmates.

Following the model of the Soviet Union, the Bulgarian Communist Party put massive resources into its youth organization when it came to power. Officially called the Communist Youth League of Bulgaria and abbreviated to Komsomol, the league sought to ensure that proper socialist values would pass to the next generation and produce loyal party members for years to come. There were different levels of the league with the youngest members, chavdarcheta wearing blue neck scarfs and the older members pionercheta, distinguished by red scarfs. Children engaged in social, educational, and recreational activities, attending summer camps along the Black Sea, hiking trips in the mountains, and learning valuable skills like computer training in the schools - all free and funded by the government. These youth leagues were used as vehicles to instill Communist party dogma in Bulgarian youth, but of course the children didn't know that. For my mother and her peers these were blissful years of innocent play in Bulgaria's bountiful nature.

The truth is, my mother is not alone in her nostalgia for these simpler times; there is a whole generation of Bulgarians who look back on the Soviet years with kind eyes. Besides, you couldn't forget Communism even if you wanted to. While it lasted less than 50 years Communism forever changed the Bulgarian people and left one of the largest visible footprints across the country. You would have to bring entire cities to the ground and leave millions of people on the streets if you were to demolish Communist-era presence in Bulgaria. Instead, today the country is scattered with abandoned buildings, graffitied edifices, and crumbling statues of Soviet leaders that leave the country contesting their place in Bulgaria's history and its identity.

Socialism is often sweeter in the memory of many Bulgarians today because what came after its demise was disappointment, disaster, and a democracy that fell short of its idlic promises. After Communism fell in 1989 Bulgaria was in a state of shock, uncertainty, and complete political and economic upheaval. The big 'brain drain' had already began with millions of young aspirational Bulgarians fleeing the country in pursuit of a better life, my mother and father included. Those brave souls who remained entered, what many refer to as, Bulgaria's modern-day Dark Ages. As the Iron Curtain and the Berlin Wall crumbled, Bulgaria tried to piece back together its national identity from the idealogical rubble that remained. In the years that followed, land and industry once held by the Communist Party was seized and privatized, falling into the hands of oligarchs and mafiosos. The 90s and early 2000s were riddled with gangster wars, organized crime, soaring inflation, and a terrible job market, not to mention a declining population fueled by a plummeting birth rate and high mortality rate. The exodus of the young and talented intensified after Bulgaria joined the European Union in 2007 and citizens became eligible for free movement of labor. Despite the progress Bulgaria has made since these dark decades, it still remains the poorest country in the European Union with one of the fastest shrinking populations in the world. What kind of national identity and cultural history can we expect to carry on from a country that seems to be disappearing off the face of the earth?

Photos 1 and 3 of political protests in Sofia (Credit: Martin Rusenov) Photo 2 of tents of protestors camping out in the streets (Credit: Robert A. Elias)

In many ways Communism never died in Bulgaria, it just changed hands and morphed into the modern-day mafia that has been holding the country hostage for decades. But the Bulgarian people have had enough. A new era of protests has already begun, or perhaps it's just a continuation of what was started in 1989. When my husband and I first arrived in mid-August we heard the chants of protestors filling the streets every night calling for strike. Ostavka, ostavka, ostavka. Since July, Bulgarians have flooded the city center in front of the parliamentary building - students and mothers, musicians and doctors - all restless for change and fighting to free Bulgaria from its backwards fate. As you've come to learn, Bulgarians have been fighting for their freedom for centuries, a struggle that has bred a culture of stubborn, insecure, superstitious, self-sufficient, and resilient people whose will to survive pulses fervently through their veins.

While searching for my identity in my homeland I have come to realize Bulgaria is still in search of its own. I am beginning to understand my 'Bulgarianness,' something I cannot change about who I am, in the context of a tumultuous ancient history, something Bulgaria cannot change about itself. Feeling lost in a country that is equally at a loss for its place in the world is oddly comforting. It inspires the kind of self-awareness you find when rummaging through your ancestral past to discover what actually survives the span of centuries, empires, dictators, and ideologies.