Football, male sociability, and social critique

69 family stuck together, he told me. Mladen also checked with delight on a medium scale beef-fattening/dairy farm (15 cows and 100 young bulls) run by an extended household of two married brothers. Having in mind such interactions, I appreciated one neighbour’s fond characterization of Mladen as a ludina (a very sociable person, between a “philanthropist” and a “laughter maker”). So how did this sociable veterinarian, who cared for the local economy and sport activism, fare as a politician? To find out, we return first to the football club.

70 smooth relations like the other two. Finally, Mladen Veterinar fared best, which had much to do with his social rebellion of obtaining the funding. I will now follow more closely how the different actors experienced and countered the criticism at the football club interface.

Coping with allegations of self-interest – Bane Erić

Bane, the new president of the SMZ, showed up briefly three times at the work action, once in the morning, and twice in the afternoon. At his first visit, he jokingly offered as a “first prize for the diggers” some of his self-produced peaches and wild pear rakija in plastic bottles. He also sponsored a labelled glass bottle of his award winning plum rakija (šljivovica), allegedly produced in 1946. One of the two public workers who were employed over the summer to clear the village roads and who had been “asked” to participate in the football work action leaned over and whispered “I shit on his brandy” (serem na njegovu rakiju). His subaltern criticism was a classic hidden transcript (Scott 1990). Nonetheless, like everybody else, he pragmatically decided to make the best of the situation and enjoyed the drinks. We sat down to relax in the shade of the trees near the creek, at the long row of tables laid out with soft drinks, mineral water, and beer, when Žiko Delić (another self-proclaimed rakija-expert), also conjured up several 1.5 litre plastic bottles of rakija. This was his own production, and he urged the people to compare it to Bane’s. The men drank in thoughtful sips and found both equally palatable.

Bane Erić had already left, and the “hidden transcripts” of critique were now expressed openly.

Some men informed me winking that nobody believed the story of the 60-year-old rakija; it would either have been drunk by Bane himself, or would have evaporated by now. Rumour also had it that Bane bought rakija from villagers for some three euros per litre and then refilled it into his fancy bottles, which sold for between ten and 35 euros in Belgrade and abroad.

During the lunch break, the talk turned to present and past work actions. Most vocal was

‘Kafeđija’, the 28 year-old captain of the first team.⁶⁶ Kafeđija criticized the quality of the installed barriers around the pitch (they were not galvanised), the 5.3 m high fencing behind the goal (70 cm lower than contracted), and the new stands made of concrete and wood (full concrete benches would have been more durable). These criticisms were indirectly aimed at Bane Erić, who had drawn up the construction plan and supervised the work. An agricultural journalist and proud owner of a brand-new tractor, who participated with his teenage son in the work action, tried to defend the work. But as Kafeđija’s criticism found ever new targets; the

66 Kafeđija (literally: coffee house owner) ran the only restaurant of the village together with his father.

71 journalist conceded at one point that if there had been more money, things could have been done more professionally.

In the afternoon, the outhouse toilet was to be relocated behind the clubhouse close to the creek. Bane Erić had returned and discussed the objections of several men about the site. He finished the discussion by exclaiming: “I was a builder all my life and I know where to put a WC!” The critique of the president of the SMZ had for a moment become public, but was quickly retained in a more “hidden” repertoire.

The initial points of criticism were Bane’s perceived boasting about his rakija awards, and his stinginess of not providing enough for all workers, so that a less affluent villager had chipped in. The quality of his produce was equalled by the rakija of the hobby-producer, which implied that Bane’s ethics were tainted, that he was “faking” (švercovao) its age and quality and had repackaged other people’s produce for his own profit. Such allegations of dishonest business practices were one genre of the vast local discursive field of corruption critique. Consequently, allegations of embezzlement (malverzacije) threatened to taint Bane’s supervision of the infrastructure works. Bane felt that a lot hinged on defending his professional reputation, so he loudly insisted on his building expertise. Thus he silenced the open charges of self-interestedness. His “stand-in” for the day, Miro Supervizor, fared less well, although he was only charged with minor misconduct.

Over-conforming in the face of critique – Miro Supervizor

A recurrent target of criticism throughout the day was the inequality of workloads, which seemed to be linked to the class differences of those participating in the work action. Regularly 15 people were present at the construction site, but no more than ten worked at a time. Some men preferred to “advise” and do little physical work, others worked hard and had less time to

“comment.” The critical public worker we encountered above was, of necessity, a hard worker.

He characterized the organization of the workflow in his typically deft vocabulary: “We can’t work like that. Five people play the boss [šefuju], and five people work. F**k such work.” His fellow public worker Pero Krajišnik worked practically from dawn till dusk, received much advice and instructions, and did virtually no talking (his life story will be analysed in Chapter Four).

On the other hand, the local state officials worked less and planned a lot. These included, to some extent, Mladen Veterinar, who was often on the phone trying to organize more workers.

However, this was little criticised, because Mladen’s work as a club official regularly involved

72 phoning.⁶⁷ Bane Erić was also partly exempted from workload criticism because of his age, although his lack of supervision was criticized, as shown above. The medical doctor, who had brought Mladen into politics, and who showed up only briefly, was probably spared because of his literally “white collar” profession and his help in attentively treating the sick of Lower Village. The most incisive criticism was directed against Miro Supervizor, the new supervisor of the SMZ since 2009. Twenty years ago, as a young man, Miro had worked in Bane’s construction firm, but unlike his married contemporaries, who by now disdained Bane’s patronizing behaviour, the “old bachelor” (stari momak) Miro still accepted Bane’s public advice. Today he had also taken on the supervision of the work during Bane’s absence, and served as a lightning rod for the dissatisfaction.

As indicated above, because of the incessant phone-reminders by Mladen Veterinar, more and more club members arrived at the site. Craftsman ‘Palikuća’ repeatedly complained that he was there to work for free, and much paid work awaited him at home. But often, when he asked the men, “Come on, let’s work,” they answered “Come on, let’s be friends/have fun” (hajde da se družimo). At one point the teams of two cement mixers pushed more and more new wheelbarrows of freshly mixed concrete to where Palikuća was laying the foundation of the veranda, while Miro Supervizor, who typically worked next to him, took a longer break.

Palikuća lost his composure, dropped everything and went over to the tables where Miro sat chatting with a beer in his hand. The workflow immediately came to a standstill, and the men awaited curiously what would happen next. Palikuća placed himself some three metres in front of Miro, slowly swiped the sweat from his brows, and then rebuked him like a schoolboy: “What are you doing?” Miro: “I am sitting and talking.” Caught out, Miro’s plea that he also needed some rest only worsened his position. The men laughed and the ashamed Miro jumped to his feet and returned to work. For a while he toiled silently next to Palikuća. As it became clear that the porch could be finished with fewer workers, Miro began advancing new subprojects. I suppose that besides diverting the workflow to more effective employment, that way Miro also got out of the critical gaze of Palikuća, and spared himself future remarks of being a bad work organiser. Successively, Miro initiated the cleaning of the well in front of the club house, the building of a shed for tools and machines behind it, and the reconstruction and relocation of the outhouse toilet, the position of which had been determined by Bane Erić (see above). Miro continued to join in the drinking, but had less time to sit and eat. Come nightfall he was crouched on his knees, tiling a crooked foot path to the outhouse.

67 For instance, Mladen informed the league about the score of Lower Village’s matches, and redistributed the results of simultaneous games in the club.

73 Although Bane, Miro and Mladen were all self-employed and politically and economically more powerful than average club members, the hierarchy was constantly discursively undermined by a barrage of criticism, ranging from “hidden transcripts,” through allusions of misconduct, to direct questioning. Common people did work harder than local state officials, but the relation was reversed in Miro Supervizor’s case – he reacted to allegations of laziness by working harder than most. In short, Miro Supervizor’s actions represent how a local state actor can be made to “over-conform” in the face of public demand and criticism. Yet, how did Mladen negotiate the “critical” situation?

Social rebellion and cultural intimacy – Mladen Veterinar

The workers had started in the morning without a public breakfast, except for Mladen who had done the shopping and brought for himself a sandwich, because, as he said, he had had no breakfast at home. Lunch was a huge pot (tava) of stewed pig’s offal and potatoes seasoned with tomatoes. It was prepared by the butcher and caterer Mr Tošić, who charged the club only for the ingredients, because his son Tadija (b. 1984) was a first team football player and an SMZ councillor. With the stew went loaves of white bread and tomato and cucumber salad, and for the coffee break fresh watermelons. What could not be eaten and drunk was left standing.

Mladen thus redistributed municipal funds not only into the material space of the football infrastructure, but also into the stomachs of the participants of the work action.

Bawdy joking was an integral part of the male cooperative work and banter increased during the breaks. The merry-making repeatedly took place at Mladen’s expense. For instance, some opined that since Mladen would be travelling so much, he could not possibly say that he would

“spend the nights in Belgrade with a Miroslav,” suggesting that instead of socialising with males in the capital, he was in the company of women and cheating on his wife. Pushing the theme of adultery (švaleracija) further, others bantered how the veterinarian liked to visit his village clients in the evening, knowing when the husbands of the young wives were not at home – and thereby compromising their male solidarity and trust.⁶⁸ The reactions to such banter can be varied. People are used to sexual teasing, but at a certain point, many get annoyed and react irately, as the following joke indicates. It was recounted during the work action by Kafeđija:

68 In her ethnography of the Bosnian village Dolina, Tone Bringa (1995, 91) recorded similar views by the women on extramarital relations (although not expressed in a joking mode). In Dolina extramarital affairs were seen as “risking good neighbourhood relations and the reputation of the household.” Unfaithfulness was associated with excessive movement, and was better directed to the urban exterior. Some women said “if a man absolutely had to take another woman, he should go to Sarajevo where it would be his own business” (Bringa 1995, 242, fn.2).

74 A film crew wants to cover “Sex in the Village” and interviews a grandfather (deda) on the subject. The latter misunderstands and talks about his agriculture, his cows, chicken and so on. After a while, his son interrupts him: “not (about) that, deda,” but he continues with his gabbling. After the third interruption, the old man gets really annoyed and turns to the camera, exclaiming: “Do you see now how they fuck you in the village?” (Jel’ vidiš kako te jebu u selu?)

The joke, which alluded to and modified the title of the popular TV series “Sex in the City,”

played with the double meaning of the verb jebati/zajebavati, which connoted 1) to have sex;

and 2) to tease. Zajebavati as (sexual) teasing temporarily turned relations of authority upside down, as exemplified by the taunting of Mladen Veterinar, which transported a subaltern social critique of him as a middle aged, middle class professional (veterinarian) and successful politician who apparently acted too youthfully and too restlessly.⁶⁹ However, in contrast to the irate old man of the joke, Mladen kept his wits. He smiled and sometimes cautiously joined in the good-natured teasing, which affirmed their cultural intimacy and underlined their respect of his achievements as a self-employed man and politician. Within the male bonding of the football club, characterized both by an egalitarian, redistributive ethics and a “value mastering hierarchy” (Bruun, Skroederdal Jakobsen, and Kroijer 2011), Mladen’s redistribution of local state funds for the material and social upgrading of the football club reinforced his status as a primus inter pares. With this redistributive social rebellion he thus fared far better than the self-interested Bane and the lazy/over-conforming Miro.

Bane had weathered the allegations of self-interest because he and his associates managed to keep the accusations of stinginess and corruption in a relatively hidden register by showing hospitality (distributing rakija), by strategically conceding minor points, and by insisting on his professional expertise. Furthermore, Bane’s seniority cushioned him against accusations of physical laziness. Miro Supervizor needed to concede to criticism and he over-conformed, because he could not pacify relations through redistribution and was less skilful at countering treatment below the belt, i.e. of being talked to like a boy (both by Bane and by Palikuća).

Arguably, Miro could not muster as good a defence because his perceived lack of a family or a girlfriend made him appear to most as less than “mature” and highlighted his function as a junior “stand-in” for Bane (and perhaps even Mladen). Finally, Mladen Veterinar capitalized on his “social rebellion” of obtaining the funding for the club from the local municipality, which he redistributed in a rather flawless, egalitarian way. Furthermore, he was envied for his good family relations and courteous ways with the female population. Thus he only had to cope with

69 In fact, Mladen was teased for acting less like a “father” than a “frajer,” an irresponsible youth who stirs up trouble (for a detailed discussion of both relational concepts of heterosexual normativity, see Chapter Four).

75 moderately sexualized teasing. Showing a good sense of humour, Mladen turned this criticism into a performance of cultural intimacy, which strengthened his position in the egalitarian value mastering hierarchy. In the interface of the football club, therefore, Mladen Veterinar did well.

In the following subsection, we turn to a tougher social interface for him, the village neighbourhood where he was born and raised.