Rupert Wolfe-Murray's Blog: Quirky Views of a Travel Writer

By Aidan Wolfe Murray

I found myself on the shores of the Yucatan in the scorching heat of summer, with only the pack on my back and a handful of rumours about where I was. 

Mexico, land of the ancients. A great peninsula stretching from the base of the USA all the way into Central America. One enormous coastline treading the mighty Pacific and the other surfing the warm waters of the Caribbean. As  richly diverse as it is welcoming.   A trip to an ancient site or the famous Museo de Anthropologia, will reveal a cultural goldmine! 

There began a journey across many mountains and more miles, trailing around the southern states for two years. 

Before we begin, let’s get something to drink! Oh, they have a lot of Coca-Cola...

                                                           Puro Veneno

Although Coca-Cola is not the only soft-drink manufacturer profiting from the rich market that Mexico has become, it is almost certainly the most far-reaching. Without fail, trudging the dusty tracks through the most remote hamlets, the red and white sign can be seen above one doorway or another. No matter where you go, it is unheard of to be unable to buy a bottle of Coca-Cola. It is looked upon as a point of pride – we have a high-quality product rather than the fruit and veg anyone can find in the field. I had no idea coke was so prevalent, or so prestigious, but the revelations were just beginning. 

In 2019 Mexico was the biggest consumer of soft-drinks in the world, worth an estimated $25bn. When I did more research I discovered a troubling rise of obesity and type two  diabetes. The degree to which people understand the connection between excessive sugar consumption and diabetes is unclear. In my experience of the few who seem to know something about it, there is an apathy or a disregard for the consequences. I remember a man walking towards me carrying two-litre bottles of Jarritos (a Mexican soft drink) in each hand. He saw me looking, gave me a knowing smile and said “puro veneno” (pure poison).

                                                          Water Wheel 

In the high mountains of Chiapas in the South-East lies the city of San Cristobal de las Casas. A beautiful alpine environment, circled by mountains and blessed with relatively clean air. Unfortunately it has seen falling water levels over the last few decades. 

Talking with the locals of San Cris, I was informed that a nearby Coca-Cola bottling plant has the rights to the local water supply. There are demonstrations against this as well as a great deal of complacency and  ignorance. The officials say  that the factory  draws from deep underground and does not affect the water available to locals. What then accounts for the drought?

A piece of graffiti in town was a great image of how some perceived the giant corporation. It was a coke bottle with its hands around the world (a glass bowl of water) and a straw in its mouth greedily sucking it all up. 

With water shortages common in some neighbourhoods, the sale of coke shoots up as it is the cheaper option. Some people are drinking as much as half a gallon of cola per day. Coca-Cola, however, insists they are meeting their goals for water replenishment. 

                                                      San Juan Chamula 

Coca-Cola first appeared in Mexico in the 1960s with an ad-campaign that used religious imagery as an entry into the predominantly Catholic country. Flash forward to today and coca cola is used in religious ceremonies and even as a curative by some practising shamans. Near to San Cristobal is a small but famous town named San Juan Chamula where they practise religious ceremonies using Coca-Cola. One healer was using coke to treat diabetes. 

It is easy to understate how integrated Coca-Cola is with the lives and culture of  Mexico.

                                                                      Politics

Coca-Cola may never have come as far as it has without the work of Vincente Fox.  As a sales rep in the 1970s he was able to dissuade then-President Luis Echeverria who wanted to nationalise coke in Mexico, and gain its secret formula!. He may well have saved coke from losing what was to become one of its most lucrative markets. Like Nixon before him, Fox used his position with a soft-drink corporation as a spring-board into the Presidency.

When Mexico ratified the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) it meant that coke could be sold even more cheaply. Although some praise NAFTA for opening the Mexican market to higher-quality merchandise, it had undeniable consequences for the health of the Mexican people. It has been highlighted as a major factor in the rising epidemic of obesity across the country. A question arises: Do profits justify the sale of products that damage human health? 

                                                            With Sugar on Top 

Mexico is under the spell of Azucar (sugar). On top of soft drinks, there is massive consumption of processed snacks and meat. The basic bread that is sold is called “pan dulce” (sweet bread) which is white bread with a high sugar content. This comes in a variety of shapes and sugared fillings. One has to be vigilant and read labels to avoid the ubiquitous added sugar. When I walked into my first little “tienda” (shop) I quickly found that there was nothing I could justify buying, nutritionally speaking. With supply being a mirror to demand, it soon became clear that the Mexican diet was replete with ‘junk’ food. 

Despite regulations on processed food and soft drinks in the region of Oaxaca, the legislation is ignored and not easily enforceable. Mexico exhibits an unusual balance of politics and disobedience; the people decide when they want to do something. This can be a protection against coercion, but when influence comes from subliminal advertising, an uninformed public can be manipulated by the savvy marketer. With a culture who show great pride in their cuisine, it is a difficult subject to broach. 

                                                                   Conclusion

Mexico is a culturally diverse country with a rich history and hard-working, warm people. It has suffered much over the 400 years since the Spanish conquest, but one of the main issues facing it today is that of ill-health. The poor diet that has arisen is cemented by a cultural fixation with artifices such as Coca-Cola. 

Coke has become a way of life. 

Issues of water scarcity and disease have highlighted Mexico’s plight to many of its people. Recent legislation has aimed to curb the huge issues they all face, but will the people listen? The call has been taken up around the world to rouse this great Feathered Serpent to reveal its true splendour!

For more detail on this story here is a great article published by The Guardian after I left Chiapas in June 2023: Sugar rush: how Mexico’s addiction to fizzy drinks fuelled its health crisis

I think the best thing we can do about the nightmare being inflicted onto the people of Gaza is to write to our Member of Parliament. Let them know where you stand. I wrote to mine, Peter Kyle MP, over two weeks ago but he's not replied. Normally MPs reply quickly but when it comes to Israel, British politicians seem to go into a kind of coma.

I'd be really interested to know what you think about the situation, and/or my letter. You are far more likely to write something interesting than my MP, who is obviously caught in the US-driven policy of blindly support apartheid and would probably only send me a polite but dismissive reply.

Here's what I wrote:

Dear Mr Kyle,

I was impressed that you abstained in the SNP’s parliamentary motion  calling for a ceasefire in Gaza, and I have a related question for you: do you think the Labour Party should call for a ceasefire?

As a new resident in Hove I was looking forward to voting for you in the next General Election, as I had heard you are a good MP, but I won't do this if Labour doesn't drop its unconditional support for Israel's extreme nationalist government. If you were to support Israel's progressives, the ones who want peace through dialogue with moderate Palestinians, the Labour Party could set an international precedent: a way to support Israeli people without condoning the actions of an extreme government.

Surely you can see that the Israeli government is carrying out collective punishment on Palestinian civilians in the wake of Hamas's terror attack? The Israeli policy towards the Palestinians is clearly apartheid and even David Cameron, when he was PM, described Gaza as an "open prison".  Israel is proud of its democracy but it applies cruel military law to those living in Gaza and the West Bank. 

I've been reading about the historical background to the conflict as, I believe, understanding the past helps us to navigate the present. In Simon Sebag Montefiore's book Jerusalem he describes how this great city was fought over for centuries by Jews, Christians and Muslims. In ancient times the conquering party would often massacre the victims, but not always: sometimes they would show clemency and toleration. Palestine was ruled for over 400 years by the Muslim Ottoman Empire and they were relatively tolerant towards their Jewish and Christian minorities. They certainly didn’t wall them up in ghettos as happens now. It strikes me that the current Israeli government is acting like one of those ancient empires, when punishing whole populations was quite normal. But why do our governments support such barbaric practices? 

The other book I'm reading offers a useful background to the situation and I recommend it: The Question of Palestine by Edward Said. This book answers a question I've had for a long time: how can progressives/liberals/left wingers in the West be so blindly supportive of Israeli policies that break so many of the human rights we apparently believe in? He also explains that Israeli Zionism is, in fact, a colonial project that enforces a different set of laws on its subject peoples.

In my opinion, the NATO powers were quite right to stand up to Russia in Ukraine, but the diplomatic advantages we gained by this is being thrown away by the double standards we are showing in Israel/Gaza. We all know the US government is under pressure from their Jewish and evangelical lobbies, and our conservative government will blindly follow whatever Washington DC does, but it's sad to see that this rationale also applies to the Labour Party. Not only is this against what most Labour voters apparently believe, but it makes us look cowardly and craven on the international stage. 

A recent article in Al-Jazeera says, "The Labour establishment has always been complicit in the oppression of the Palestinian people, but their moral corruption on Palestine is not representative of the contemporary Labour grassroots." 

I would be grateful if you could let me know what your position on Gaza is, but please don't trot out the Israeli government talking point about their right to defend themselves. That is the most ridiculous statement I've heard, as nobody is saying they don't have that right. What we're saying is you don't need to carpet bomb a whole population if you're going after a few terrorists. A proportionate response would be to send in the infantry. 

With kind regards

Rupert Wolfe Murray

 

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First of all, I want to ask if you've seen this film we made of my Dad, using footage from the sixties and some video shot about 10 years ago when he was obsessed by hens and living with my Mother again.  

Secondly, if you were one of the approximately 200 people at the funeral I would be extremely grateful if you'd share your impressions below, as a comment. It can be as long as an essay or as short as a word. The 57 comments below my appeal for testimonials about him are incredible, showing dimensions of my father's life that we never knew.

Thirdly, this is a long article but the eulogies are totally incredible. They were stunning when read out at the event but they're so intense, detailed and, in places, witty, that they're well worth reading here. 

At some point during my Dad's funeral I said to myself "this is the best funeral I've ever been to" -- even though such a thought seems unworthy. Surely it's wrong to rate a funeral as if it was a film? It's difficult to describe, as it's mixed up with the turmoil of feelings and memories (not to mention grief) that come after someone dies, fuelled by the discovery of old photos and letters -- and our Dad was an epic letter writer, especially when in love. I'm thinking about putting together a book of his writings but there's so much of the stuff that I wouldn't know where to begin. What do you think? Would you buy a book about Angus Wolfe Murray?

Back to the point: the funeral. What made is fabulous? The location -- a dour Scottish church that's been converted into a modern theatre with good lighting; the 200+ mourners (the word "audience" comes to mind); the celebrant, who, with my brother Kim, organised a superb event; the coffin, which was hand made by my super-skilled-carpenter-nephew Nikita; the welcome music by another super-skilled-nephew (Caleb) and a haunting Romanian singer-guitarist called Monica Lucia Madas (Bob Dylan's Knock Knock Knocking on Heaven's Door also came on at the end); the funeral directors, one of whom learned cricket from our Dad, who organised all the logistical details with a minimal fuss and a sent a bill that was surprisingly low. I worried that folk wouldn't be able to find the graveyard as it's remote and located in a tiny village -- but nobody got lost, they (somehow) all found parking places, and the burial was as incredible as the funeral service itself -- with the wind, a rainbow and a violin coming in just on cue (I made an unedited video of the burial that you can see here). And the wake was great too, in Traquair Village Hall, with an exhibition of great photos of his life -- any of which can be ordered from the local printer for just £2 each.

It's all very well having a good location, great music and a big crowd, but if the eulogies (the plot) isn't good then the whole thing could have been a damp squib. And there's no doubt in my mind that it was the three eulogies that made this funeral fabulous -- as well as, of course, the huge character that was Angus Wolfe Murray. The eulogies are copied below and, like the best malt whisky, best enjoyed slowly.

*

The celebrant's name is Suzanne Dance and I think it's most fitting that her background was in acting and drama, thus giving her an insight into our Dad's love of film. She put a lot of work into researching him, and preparing the event, and here's a summary of what she said:

This is like his patched denims, a patchwork eulogy. We will hear from Tessa, Magnus and Luca -- three generations impacted by Angus.

The words that keep recurring about Angus are: defiant, amazing, extraordinary, eccentric,  exciting, intense, complex, kind, generous, witty, charming, humorous, a free spirit, a grafter, insightful and original. His love of animals, dogs, ducks, and his empire of hens. His effect on women. His joy at watching movies and originality at reviewing them. As a roadie for Jethro Tull. Performing pantomimes. Eating porridge.
Tessa Wolfe Murray's eulogy
Angus and I wrote letters. We started when I was 14. I was at boarding school, he was married to Stephanie. Kim and Rupert were babies. Our regular correspondence continued until I was in my twenties. I want to share some extracts from one of the later letters.

But first, some background for those who don’t know me. I am Angus’s half sister. He was 13 when I was born. My first home was with my parents and three brothers -- James, Angus and Andrew -- and our grandmother in Traquair village. When I was three we moved to Glenternie, in Manor Valley, near Peebles. Growing up, Angus always had time to play with me. Mostly teasing.

I have memories of shrieking with laughter, being rolled down the steep grassy banks outside Glenternie. Of scary visits to the cellar which became a dungeon, and he the ghoulish monster -- good practice for his pantomime roles in later life. I became an awkward teenager, questioning my parents’ way of life and politics. In this he was my ally; he had been on the same journey. Often he would vocally support me in my conflicts with them.

More and more I chose to spend my boarding school holidays with Angus, Stephanie and the boys. I owe my teenage mental health to them. When my mother died unexpectedly in 1968, they were very kind to me.

The letters Angus and I wrote to each other covered life, emotions, difficulties, books, films and music. The extracts I want to read come from a 1976 letter. He was living between Glenternie and Edinburgh. I was 26, living in the South Pacific with my anthropologist husband Nick and two year old Joseph. The letter is both history and poetry.

Dear Teaseyer, (I was Teaseyer, Teapot, he was Angst, Anguish or Anglepoise. As a family we went in for nicknames).

I’m typing because it’s nicer than sprawling half naked over a ballpoint Bic trying to squeeze ink from same and hold hand steady enough to make words possible on the eye. I wrote you a long deadly black stained (with gloom) letter soon after the New Year and found it a few weeks ago in the back of a book. It was never sent or finished (lucky for you -- it was a whiner, and boring to boot).

NEWS: when faced with the prospect of relating life’s progress over the last 6 months I cringe and wobble, jellies invade my brain, marshmallows flap and flop in the inevitable mind splosh of stewed fruit afternoons. I’m 39. Birthday last month. Frightening innit? Christmas soon. And then another year.

The children grow taller, their lives leading towards the deathly teenage stewpot, the confidence crunch. Kim is vague and wandering, beginning to enjoy (or at least understand a little more) the complexities of school and its social hierarchies. Rupert, at Peebles High, is floating on the surface still. Work not going too well but I think it’ll improve once he sees the point of it. He’s a boon to Stephanie at home, helping and heaving. There’s no passionate interest yet, (I blame all their uncertainties upon myself. I’m so detached and locked into work, scared white about lack of money, fighting to finish things that might bring success/cash, isolated like a crab in a bucket). Gavin is at the Academy Prep. He’s zapped out with energy, keen and glistening with ideas. Mooner continues to be Mooner, magic smiles and innocence like buttercup yellow in fields of green, the closest to earth, feelings for natural things, animals and birds. In his head he’s flying. He’s happy.

Sometimes I feel the house (Glenternie) like a stone dragging us into the pit and yet I know this is in MY head and if I look from another direction I would see hope and fulfilment and opportunity and delight. For so long I have lived on a cloud of sheer invention. I think that cloud has dissolved into air and I’m falling. Below is the earth and its very hard and dark. Everyone I know is living there. They’ve learnt to adapt to the solid sounds of this stony wilderness. They understand the limitations and accept them. I’ve yet to hit the floor. Pathetic. A grown man dressed as a child gliding on wax wings in rain circling the mountain.

I’m very bad at writing. I shall improve, stimulated by letters from you. The new leaf? The old leaf burning in the fire, yes. The new leaf is fresh and green. I invented it two minutes ago. Here it is. Smells of gooseberries.

Full of resolutions ( shame went into the fire with guilt and disgust) and words aching to be written …next time.
Magnus Wolfe Murray's Eulogy
So, Dad, I really don’t want to be here giving this talk, but here we are, in your homeland, where you and I were raised, surrounded by our people. 

You seem to have had many lives (I know what that can be like). Not far from here, up Manor Valley, we lived in a massive house that was like a huge playground, surrounded by woods and secret spots for fairies and forest creatures. You were writing, in one of the most basic rooms, somewhere around the old stables, a teeny log fire in the corner, a window for spiders to roam; a bare table with that old typewriter.. tak-tak-tak – Bing! Always those single fingers typing at that thing. 

The roof needed fixing, the rooms heated, you needed money. We had little. 

You bought a van and moved everything from aunt May’s grandfather clock to wee Annie’s white mice. Then you scaled up, a huge yellow van with a guy running painted on it – as we moved out, closer to Edinburgh. 

You created Moving Pictures. Scotland to London and back, and everywhere in between. I’d join you on these trips now and then. In your cab you had music, an extensive garden, your dog; a little home. I remember you on the M6, hurtling along, both feet up on the dashboard, a long stick just the right size to keep the accelerator forced down, the other end wedged into the top of the cabin somewhere.  It’s a wonder we survived, that you survived for so long! 

We went on holiday up north. Fishing on a wind-blown loch, under a broody sky; long hikes in the rain clouds. On the west coast we found sea cliffs and huge surf crashing into the caves and rocks. Now this was living!  Leaping between the rocks, just avoiding the next surge. One mistake and we were gone. Maybe here’s where I found my thrill of the danger zone. Living on some edge or other. For you it was pure fun, and fear, together, and being the fish that swam against the current. 

From you I learned to play; any stick would do, a tennis ball and a field. Not exactly cricket but a kind of rounders. All of us, any kids or adults we could rope in. Then my kids, from about the age of 2, all of your grandkids, the Traquair gang, their friends. We lived outdoors, we were lucky. What a privilege. 

Inside. Darkness, log fire on, charades, two teams, a race, always competitive, 10 clues, two rooms: Go! Four words, first word, small.. “a, I, it” – yes, it, kind of. Next word, second word (points to self), “me, I, my” yes – my! Third word, acting out slit throat, point to coffin, “dead, murdered, death, funeral” Yes – funeral!. Fourth word, mime child in arms, rocking.. “birth, child, baby”. Baby, yes! "It’s my funeral Baby!" You got it. Next! 

Building your coffin with Nikita, my son (I, like you, am quite incapable of actually making anything). I helped. This has been a nice way to send you on your way. He chose simple pine and linseed oil for finishing, which I remember you said was good for your cricket bats. We planed shavings for hours to make a kind of mattress for you to “rest” on – we just thought lying in a bare coffin was a bit much. We chose the wood to plane shavings from: cedar for nice aroma, oak for age, sycamore for youth. You are dressed in your best patched jeans, a denim jacket and one of your fancy pink shirts; and a set of red leather boots (but where are all your cowboy boots?), a cricket ball, a picture of Stephanie and… Pinkie, that near-human chicken you would share your porridge with.  

Five words.  First word, T “the” yes! Second word, finishing, block “End” Yes! Third word, small “Of” Yes! fifth word, sounds like mice (act out wriggling creature on floor with big whiskers) “Mice”, no, sounds like – “Rice, dice, nice?” Nice, yes! Oh, they yell: "The End of Something Nice".
Luca Wolfe Murray’s Eulogy 
I never knew grandpa in his youth. It's been very nice to hear and read stories about him, most of which happened way before I was even born.

I didn't quite know what to say here. I didn't know him as well as many of you, and I don't have any crazy stories about him. The Gus I knew was already old. 

I thought to talk about how he looked so iconic with his patched up jeans and leather jacket. Or about how I told my friends that my grandpa is the crazy old guy from Back to the Future.

I'd like to just share my first memory of Grandpa, and an important lesson I learnt from him.

I remember: I was watching Tom and Jerry and he joined me.

I asked him, “Why are you watching Tom and Jerry? It’s for kids!”

“Don't be a Silly Billy. Tom and Jerry is absolutely brilliant."

I was genuinely shocked that an old man would watch Tom and Jerry.

Fast forward. A few years later I became a bit too old for Tom and Jerry but I was still watching it. I was around 12 years old and my older sister said, "Aren't you too old for Tom and Jerry?"

“No I’m not,” I replied. “Grandpa watches Tom and Jerry and he's over 70 years old.”

She was convinced he had only said that to make me feel better, so the next time I saw him I asked, "Plops, do you really like Tom and Jerry?" I don't remember exactly what he told me, but it was something along the lines of... "Oh yes".

If there’s one thing I learned from Grandpa is to be true to oneself. To not let restrictions stop you from living the life you want. And to not take yourself too seriously.

When he got a rip in his jeans he didn’t buy new ones, like everyone else would. He did things differently.

I really want to use this time to remember his awesome life. 

*

I don't have any words to end such incredible memories, but luckily my aunt Tessa does. When she shared her eulogy with me she also copied in the whole family and wrote this: "I noticed that all the eulogies were given by the youngest members of their generation!"

Please add your comment below. If you were at the funeral what was your impression? (a one word summary will do) and, if you knew him, do you have any last words?

If you want to contact me just send an email to wolfemurray@gmail.com

Rupert Wolfe Murray, 28th February 2023.

My father has just died, peacefully, at home on the west coast of Scotland. 

I’m in a state of shock but also not surprised as he lived his life in a state of wild defiance of the conventions and norms of ordinary life, and hated the idea of being looked after or helped by others. He loved people but hated officialdom. 

On the one hand I want to sum up his extraordinary and eccentric life -- I want to explain his charm, his writings, his ability to listen to children, his interests, passions and collections -- but I’m at a loss. I’m stuck. I have so much to say but at the same time I don’t want to write anything as I need time to process my confusion and grief. 

This is where you come in. Perhaps you have a poignant memory of Angus Wolfe Murray, the author, publisher, film critic and specialist in the transportation of fine arts. Did you know him? Were you impressed by his conversation, style and unique outlook on life? Can you comment on his transition from the upper class values of his parents into the bohemian lifestyle he brought us up in? 

Last time I made an appeal like this was just after my mother died in the summer of 2017. I wrote a short blog post asking for comments, anecdotes and memories about her and suddenly there were over 20 brilliant pieces of writing -- many of which made their way into a little book we rushed into print for her memorial service. You can see the PDF version of it here .

So please add a comment below. And please realise that a sentence will do fine, pithy little statements can be great. Short is sweet and long is lovely. It’s all good. This is the place to share your memories, however fleeting or fragmented, of Angus Wolfe Murray.

Or you can ask a question. We could engage in an open dialogue. On the one hand I feel like I can’t write about him but I would like to answer questions and maybe get others involved in coming up with answers. I’m sure my three brothers have lots of interesting things to say about him. 

And I hope to see you at the funeral, which is scheduled to take place on the 9th of February in the Village Hall at Traquair, near Peebles in the Scottish Borders. Feel free to contact me at any time for more details, or if you’d like to discuss your forthcoming comment under here.

With lots of love, Rupert Wolfe Murray, wolfemurray@gmail.com, Phone/WhatsApp: 0747 138 1973

Photo credit: The black and white photo of my Dad, above this article, is taken from a film he made in Malta in 1962 with his cousin Patrick Boyle. The image was taken by Patrick Boyle. They made a couple of unfinished films back then. Patrick went on to direct documentaries for the BBC and my Dad wrote some scripts -- one of which was called How to Rob a Bank Without Violence. 

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It's hard to imagine what could be worse than the barrages that are raining down on Ukrainian cities right now, but the rocket and artillery fire will eventually stop. A more long term risk for Ukraine, one that will permanently hobble its chances of recovery, is a bad peace treaty.

A good peace treaty would recognise Ukraine's territorial sovereignty and the independence of its government, thus enabling it to rebuild. International aid would pour in and the country could quickly recover. A bad treaty, on the other hand, would disable Ukraine's government, enshrine outside power brokers, and ensure that the country was so dysfunctional that it could never prosper or defend itself with a powerful army.

But surely a peace treaty is just what's needed for Ukraine? Surely, anything that ends the war is good? That was the thinking in November 1995 when the leadership of Bosnia Herzegovina was bullied into signing the Dayton Agreement, a deal that is nicely summed up by Wikipedia: "The agreement has been criticized for creating ineffective and unwieldy political structures and entrenching the ethnic cleansing of the previous war."

One of the problems with the Dayton Agreement was that it created a state within a state – the Serb controlled Republika Srpska – which includes the territory on which (according to international courts and tribunals) Bosnian Serbs committed genocide over the mostly Muslim population. The Serb-controlled entity has been blocking Bosnia's progress ever since the deal and is now demanding independence. After a decade-long slumber, the Western powers are finally waking up to the risk of Russian/Serb mischief in Bosnia and are reinforcing the EUFOR armed force based here.

The peace treaty itself is "discriminatory" according to Almira Delibegović -Broome QC, a Bosnian/British lawyer based in Edinburgh. Bosnia's constitution was drafted as part of the Dayton Agreement and the problem is that it assigns "privileged status" to three main ethnicities – Croat, Serb and Bosniak/Muslim. This means that if you are from a minority, Roma or Jewish for example, or even just want to call yourself a ‘Bosnian citizen’ "you cannot stand for the highest political office in the country, be a member of the presidency or the upper house of parliament". It also ensures that Bosnia's neighbours, Croatia and Serbia, have powerful levers of control over Bosnia's triple-headed presidency. The most recent example of this is Republika Srpska vetoed Bosnia's attempts to sanction Russia after they invaded Ukraine.

According to Vehid Šehić, founder of the Tuzla Citizens' Forum in northeast Bosnia, another problem with the Dayton Agreement was that it made all three warring parties – the Croats, Bosniaks and Serbs – responsible for ongoing peace and development: "It's not natural that the nationalist political parties that were active during the war were then made responsible for implementing the peace. It's completely irrational. This is why we are still living in the wartime period of 1992 to 1995."

 

[caption id="attachment_3199" align="alignnone" width="375"] This map shows the extent of Serb-controlled territory within Bosnia Herzegovina. The Serb area is marked in red[/caption]

Russia learned some valuable lessons at Dayton

Russia was going through one of its rare moments of liberalism at the time of the Dayton Agreement in 1995. Boris Yeltsin was in power and Russia's Prime Minister, Victor Chernomyrdin (later to be ambassador to Ukraine) witnessed the treaty's signature alongside the leaders of France, Germany, Spain, the UK and of course the USA. This so-called "Contact Group" of nations followed the USA, which was driving the whole process forward.

In 1995 Russia and the USA were closer than they had been in a century and when the massive NATO "Implementation Force" (IFOR) was imposed on Bosnia Herzegovina the Russians participated with a paratroop brigade, were given an Area of Responsibility in Northeast Bosnia and, extraordinarily, were under the military command of the overall NATO commander, US General Nash. This proves that Russia and NATO forces can work together perfectly well if there is a sensible leader in the Kremlin.

Things seemed to go well in Bosnia Herzegovina for the following years. All sides were glad the fighting was over and, initially, the Bosnian Serb leader (Milorad Dodik) was a gushing advocate of peace and reconciliation with the Bosnian Muslims and Croats. But when he realised that the West was losing interest, and he was losing popularity, he played the nationalist card and started portraying the Croats, Muslims and Western powers as the enemy. Needless to say, he's very close to the Russians and who knows what advice they give him – for more details on Republika Srpska's disturbing relations with Russia click here.

The irony is that a liberal (Yeltsin) handed over the keys of the Kremlin to a man who believes in a governing style that has more in common with Ivan the Terrible. But it has to be said that Putin flirted with liberalism in his early years and had no objection to NATO expansion. 

I imagine that Russia's former KGB operatives observed the Dayton Agreement with fascination; they would have seen how the West, with the best of intentions, enforced a treaty on a nation that has resulted in a totally dysfunctional state. The Russians can't be blamed for the Dayton shambles, but they almost certainly learned from it and may see it as a useful model for stirring up trouble elsewhere. Maybe their plan in Ukraine is to rain down death and destruction, exhaust all parties, and then present a peace treaty that is based on "special rights" for the Russian minority as well as a large chunk of "autonomous" Kremlin-controlled territory. It would be a cheap way of controlling a large country: no need for an occupying army when you can veto anything you don’t like.

It would compound the tragedy of Ukraine if the Western powers were to bully Ukraine into signing a treaty with the aggressor that would debilitate them for generations to come. There is a tendency to assume that all parties come to peace treaties with good intentions. Such a mistake could be fatal for Ukraine.

The image associated with this article was by Emir Kostovic and is featured in the forthcoming graphic history book Bosnian War Posters, by Daoud Sarhandi, to be published by Interlink on May 3rd 2022. Check out our new Instagram page here @BosnianWarPosters 

 

 

I’m working on an epic book that’s coming out in May this year: Bosnian War Posters, by Daoud Sarhandi. It’s an incredible collection of propaganda and art that he and Alina Wolfe Murray, my ex-wife, collected just after the war in Bosnia Herzegovina. It's taken a long time to come to life but that's another story.

The posters are arranged chronologically, with long captions, and it tells the story of Bosnia’s war. Young people in Bosnia Herzegovina are particularly interested because they don’t learn about the war in school – it’s too recent, too raw, too politicised – and they want to learn about it so they can avoid the mistakes of their parents. Young Bosnians also want to see how people communicated before the internet.

Many of the older Bosnians I've met, those who have experienced the war, don't seem very interested in it; on the one hand they want to forget, while on the other hand they can't stop thinking about it (or so I'm told).

Could we do books like this in other war-torn countries?

The reason I'm putting this article together is that I got a very inspiring audio messages from the author, on WhatsApp. It was in response to a discussion about possible future projects we could do in other parts of the world. "Surely", I asked Daoud Sarhandi, "we could repeat what we did in Bosnia-Herzegovina? Surely there would be great material in other war zones, as good as what we had found in Bosnia?"

Daoud’s audio message (which I've transcribed below) gave me the insight I'd been looking for; it answers the question I've been asking myself: what makes our book, Bosnian War Posters, unique?

This is what Daoud said:

“The thing about Yugoslavia is that all the stars were aligned. We were in the right place at the right time, in a country which had a conscious design memory – or history – connected with Europe and Russia. One of our contributors, Bojan Hadžihalilović, says the war happened just before the internet and social media came into its own. I think the great poster campaigns the world witnessed in the past are over. Bosnia may have been the last war that used posters to such effect.

“Artists like Began Turbić, Asim Đelilović, and others are valuable as their posters and concepts are original, unique, and self-generated. I was recently thinking about doing a similar book about the Spanish Civil War as some of the work is beautifully drawn and designed. However, Spanish Civil War posters were produced by propaganda agencies on both sides rather than individual artists. They were just churning out very formulaic stuff and you actually learn very little from this material about the war as a whole, or what the people were really feeling. That's not true about the posters we found in Bosnia Herzegovina. I think Began Turbić’s work, for example, is stunning compared to anything that came out of Barcelona or Madrid.

“Also, the only surviving Spanish Civil War posters are from the conquered cities. There's almost nothing from small places and nothing independent left. This is not true of the material we found in Bosnia Herzegovina, as we were able to visit the most remote locations just after the war as well as scores of individual artists.

“What we found is absolutely unique. Not only in terms of Bosnia-Herzegovina, but in terms of world heritage. I can't think of any wars in history that have had generated such a rich heritage of original poster art, and the interesting thing is that it was genuinely independent in that most of the work we collected was produced by individual artists, working alone, and the government and army seemed to ignore them. It was a moment in time that’s not going to come back. It was something that doesn't happen everywhere and probably will never happen again.

“In 2004 I went to Palestine to investigate doing a poster book about the Israeli/Palestine war. I travelled with an expert in the field, Dana Bartlett, an American design professor teaching in Prague. She’d already done an art book on some of those posters called Both Sides of Peace. At my suggestion, we went to do another book, a bigger one, and I spent two months in Palestine, mostly in Ramallah, talking to artists and designers, as I had done in the former Yugoslavia (in 1997/98). I thought I could repeat the process in Palestine.

“But all I found was visual dross. A lot of great people, for sure, and some great artists - but no inspiring design. What I found was loads of photoshopped posters with the words Islamic Martyr in Arabic, and a young guy holding up an AK47. After you’ve seen a hundred of these posters – which are more of less the same – you realise there’s no story of design here. I understand it culturally, and I respect it, and in its own way it is interesting, but it isn't artistically inspiring or even very educational.

"But my Palestinian trip wasn't wasted as I ended up making a great documentary film, The Colour of Olives.

“Sophisticated design doesn’t really happen in most countries. You could go to loads of conflict zones - Iraq, Syria, Rwanda, Yemen, wherever - and I'm sure you wouldn't find much - you wouldn’t find a body of design work expressing lots of different aspects of the experience. You might find one or two artists doing something interesting, or quirky, but you wouldn’t find enough for a book. And then you’d have to know a lot about the war. To do what we did with the captions, you’d have to know all the ins-and-outs of that conflict.

“Islamic countries are particularly problematic in this design regard, which is why Bosnia Herzegovina was such a unique situation because there's an Islamic element in this very special European country. But Islam generally is not very encouraging about modern graphic design. It's just a fact. If you look at the history of Islamic art, it’s mainly decorative. When I met graphic designers and illustrators in Palestine they complained to me about this, that Islam doesn’t doesn’t like art to be confrontational. Art in Islamic countries celebrates the divine; flowers, symmetry, and non-human representation. You get lots of floral motifs, and calligraphy, and very little that is confrontational in the way that western audiences understand it. It’s a different thing altogether.

“Could we do a poster book in Lebanon? I doubt it. Syria? I don't think so. What's more I’ve got no motivation to do a big investigation, going round knocking on doors in another country. I don’t have the energy for that, plus I have a young family that I can’t just leave.

"I'm very, very proud of Bosnian War Posters . As a book it's beautiful and we managed to save so much of the Bosnian's wartime experience that would undoubtedly have been lost. As far as I know, we were the only people going around collecting all this material in a systematic way. I think the Bosnians didn't quite appreciate its value, plus they were exhausted after the conflict. They’d had enough of the whole bloody mess. Sometimes outsiders see things that locals don't in this regard - the distance helps. I knew from the go get that it was all very special and I'm glad we helped to preserve this bit of their cultural heritage."

What’s unique about this book of posters?

There is a second part to answering this question: putting it into context. This was done rather brilliantly by Carol A. Wells, who runs the Center for the Study of Political Graphics in Los Angeles. She wrote a foreword which puts the book into historical and artistic perspective:

“It is not surprising that so many artists made posters during the Bosnian War as they are one of the most accessible, easily disseminated, and popular art forms to express conflict and resistance. What may surprise those who are seeing these posters for the first time is their variety, abundance, and often extraordinary design…

“Although few of these Bosnian posters are well known, many of them may look familiar because they incorporate images from advertising, fine art, film posters, album covers, and popular culture…

“The Bosnian posters in this book incorporate Western art from prehistoric to Renaissance, from Pop to Punk. The referenced art includes work by Massacio, Durer, Leonardo, Picasso, and Warhol. Posters that were originally made for World Wars I and II, and the Spanish Civil War, were ‘redesigned’ for the Bosnian War. The familiarity of these shared cultural references draws us in.”

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Artists in Bosnia Herzegovina were able to draw on this rich history of ancient and modern art as many of them had been through a classical education at Sarajevo's renowned School of Art, where great art is studied over many years. I was at this art school recently and can confirm that it's still going strong -- and the students I met are very keen to see our new book of wartime posters.

My own interpretation of the Bosnian War posters is that it was the only way that artists in Bosnia-Herzegovina could protest about what was happening. As electricity was heavily restricted, the only mass media they had occasional access to was the radio. These shortages made the poster all the more powerful as a means of communication. The same didn't apply to the other warring parties, Croatia and Serbia, which had fully functional mass-media and national propaganda systems. Although we collected some posters from these countries, very few wartime posters were produced as they didn't really need them. But we got a few from the start of the war in Croatia as well as some interesting magazine covers from Belgrade.

What I didn’t appreciate until very recently was the level of freedom Bosnian artists had to express themselves – which is ironic considering that the Bosnian people were effectively hemmed in, geographically, by their enemies. They were imprisoned by external forces but their spirits were free.

A Sneak Peak

Finally, I'd like to share with you a couple of images from the book, and I'll quote from Carol Wells' foreword which puts them into context:

"A poster titled 'HEEELP' by Began Turbić used photomontage to transform an Orthodox Christian-style cross into a swastika by attaching traditional peasant-made brushes to the ends of the cross. Sixty years earlier, the German artist John Heartfield used this technique to create a swastika out of four bloody axes. Heartfield’s 1934 work was ironically titled 'Blood and Iron,' which was the motto of the Third Reich.

"Heartfield was one of the originators of photomontage, and made many anti-fascist magazine covers and posters using this technique. Turbić’s use of photomontage to create a swastika thus connects the past with the present.  The average viewer may not have known this reference, but it would have been recognized by other political poster makers, as Heartfield is often considered one of the earliest designers of mass-produced protest posters.

 

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Find out more

We'll be launching a crowdfunding appeal soon, to offer discounted copies of the book to Bosnians everywhere as well as anyone who supports this great country. If you'd like to get more information about this please send me (Rupert) an email: wolfemurray@gmail.com

The headline photo of this article was produced by Trio studios during the war. It's a re-interpretation of the Coca-Cola symbol and it's printed on the back of an old army map, as paper was in such short supply.

If you'd like to see more of the Bosnian War Posters just follow this hashtag on Instagram: #bosnianwarposters

As always, I'd be most grateful if you could leave a comment under here. All feedback is useful, every voice is valid and every perspective is true to itself. I'm particularly keen to hear from young Bosnians as I've been so impressed by those I've met so far. I intend to give more talks in Bosnian schools when I go back to Bosnia Herzegovina later this month.

Finally, if you'd like to know why I got involved in this project, see this article: Why I moved to Bosnia