Cinca Marinca, Hir Aj Kam
Slovenian original: Cinca marinca, hir aj kam
The Slovenian text is the original. This English version was translated with the help of AI.
On Sunday, November 11, 1945, the first “democratic” elections were held in postwar Yugoslavia. Under the agreement between Tito and Šubašić, the head of the Yugoslav government in exile, the elections were supposed to allow secret voting and the participation of different candidate lists, but Tito decided that so much democracy would not be to the people’s liking, so he made sure of circumstances in which the opposition saw no point in taking part, and it decided to boycott. At the polling stations, voters thus found themselves facing two boxes, one with the official list of the People’s Front, headed by Josip Broz, and the other, “black” one, with no list. Because of the high rate of illiteracy in Yugoslavia at the time, voting was done with small balls. Each voter pushed a fist first into one ballot box, then into the other, and at the end had to show the committee an empty palm. But, as if by chance, the boxes were not lined, so when a ball was dropped a “plink” could be heard, which helped the people’s rulers tell who was one of us and who wasn’t. Ježek mocked these peculiarities of people’s democracy in his legendary satirical song “Cinca marinca,” about the voter who is against us because he dropped his ball into the black box. The elections also brought an end to the short-lived Democratic Federal Yugoslavia, which was replaced a good two weeks later by the Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia. For a people’s government that thinks highly of itself, democracy is merely in the way.
What would Ježek think
What Ježek would have thought of the outburst of indignation in part of Slovenian politics and the public that followed, a week or two ago, the news that Magnifico would perform at the central celebration of Statehood Day, we do not know. But journalist Antiša Korljan recalled “Cinca marinca” in this context on the LGDG podcast, so I take this opportunity to commend him for his historical memory and reflexes. The analogy is certainly apt. “Plink, Magnifico at the state celebration? Plink, plink, didn’t he once say he voted against independence? Plink, plink, plink, he’s not one of us enough,” echoed, and still echoes, through the ever muddier swamp of Slovenian social media. “Plink,” the great leader of the only true opposition finally roared too. And announced that, by golly, he would not attend such a celebration.
One really doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Magnifico supposedly once said somewhere that in the 1990 plebiscite on Slovenian independence he voted against independence. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. If he really did state publicly how he voted, he of course cannot complain if someone also publicly asks him why he decided that way. But that can in no way be a reason to treat him as a second-class citizen and object to one of Slovenia’s most successful and popular musicians performing at a state celebration.
My dear friends, let us not judge too quickly
Actually, I wish Magnifico would speak up and explain his decision at the time. Because it could help us confront critically some questions from that period. It is indisputable that almost thirty-four years ago the citizens of Slovenia overwhelmingly opted for an independent and democratic Slovenia, and we can be extremely proud of that. But that does not change the fact that at the time some people were worried about how an independent Slovenia would treat people who, in the opinion of part of politics and the public, were not Slovenian enough. That this fear was not entirely unfounded, independent Slovenia proved very quickly with the erasure, which was, and remains, the biggest stain on this so important and magnificent period of Slovenian history. So, my dear friends, let us not judge too quickly and point fingers at people who, in those uncertain times, decided as they did, perhaps also out of fear that for some they were not and never would be enough “ours.”
So Magnifico is against us, because he supposedly dropped his vote into the black box. Plink, some of you may grumble, the comparison is not apt. In 1945 a ball in the black box was a vote against an authoritarian regime; in 1990 it was a vote against an independent Slovenia. Which is of course true, but in no way excuses the rampaging of those who are lashing out at Magnifico and his performance at this year’s state celebration. On the contrary, precisely this difference lays bare the full extent of the failure to understand basic democratic principles among those who, seventy-eight years later, are once again claiming the right to decide in the name of the people who is ours enough and who isn’t. In 1990 we also voted so that we would never again have to vote the way we did in 1945. Choosing democracy means choosing a social system in which people can think, speak and vote freely as they see fit. Only authoritarians advocate and use black boxes. In the name of the people, of course.
Ronaldo on the substitutes’ bench
How and for what Magnifico really voted, he himself can best explain. If he thinks it necessary and decides to do so. The fact is, however, that thirty-four years ago some residents of Slovenia had legitimate reasons to worry about what the future would bring them. So some voted as they voted, for one of the two options put to them in a democratic vote. But even more important than how these people thought about Slovenia thirty-three years ago is how they think about it today. And that is perhaps the most important message of Magnifico’s performance at the state celebration. That someone who decades ago may have had concerns about how the independent state would treat some of its citizens today performs with joy and pride at the celebration of its thirty-third anniversary is actually a very fine and sincere compliment to our country and to all of us, and proof that despite the initial slips—and despite the shouting and stamping of those who would still like to divide us into ours and not ours enough—we have made Slovenia a state of all its citizens, regardless of which box anyone dropped their vote into.
Such a vision of society and the state is by no means a project of “woke” left-wing activists, but a matter of respecting and implementing constitutional principles and democratic values. These principles and values are today under attack from those who want to consolidate political power and authority by stoking intolerance and dividing people by political belief, gender, skin color, religion or sexual orientation. The President of the Republic also spoke about this at the state celebration, while her immediate predecessor grimaced and fidgeted in the front row like Cristiano Ronaldo on the substitutes’ bench. Perhaps in his thoughts he was already at the alternative celebration that advocates of conspiracy theories about “cultural Marxism” and “LGBT ideology,” packaged as alternative values, organized for him the next day. Or perhaps his shoes were just pinching. Who knows.
Democratic, successful, inclusive!?
The paradox of today’s Slovenia is that people who otherwise have their mouths full of condemnation of postwar authoritarianism and single-mindedness are, through their discourse and actions, trying to re-establish a very similar social system. Don’t be distracted by shades of color. The principle is the same; everything else is nuance.
By performing at the state celebration, Magnifico showed what Slovenia means to him. The reactions to his performance, meanwhile, reveal to whom a democratic, inclusive and successful Slovenia is magnifico. And to whom it isn’t.