Krunoslav Raguž's departure from the SDP reveals censorship of a statement against Thompson's concert and raises the question of why the party remains silent amid the capillary spread of Ustasha ideology.
The departure of Krunoslav Raguž, the former head of the SDP in Vukovar, from the party has opened a question that goes beyond usual personnel turbulence. Raguž cited as the key reason for his exit the censorship of a statement by the city SDP that was meant to publicly oppose the holding of Marko Perković Thompson's concert in Vukovar.
According to Raguž, the party headquarters on Iblerov Square banned the publication of that document. This detail reveals a deeper discomfort within the party of Siniša Hajdaš Dončić, which appears hesitant to clearly articulate a stance on the phenomenon of Thompson's concerts as a platform for the manifestation of Ustasha ideology.
A good part of the political and public scene, including the SDP leadership, believes that the real problems of citizens are spatial plans, inflation, and corruption. However, they simultaneously ignore what Raguž and his like-minded colleagues see as the capillary spread of Ustasha ideology occurring precisely through such events. This belief, if we set aside political calculation and fear of alienating part of the electorate, does not rest on principles of fighting for a better society.
Even if a hypothetical left-wing coalition, such as one between the SDP and Možemo, came to power without confronting extremist values, the fundamental problem would not be solved. The atmosphere of hatred and latent fascism would only strengthen, waiting for an opportunity to escalate. The question arises: how would an emboldened right-wing, feeling untouchable, react then? Is it more likely they would retreat, or would a series of mass gatherings follow, like the rally of support for Mirko Norac on Split's Riva, aimed at overthrowing the government on the streets?
A city that suffered destruction comparable to Hiroshima deserves a new shared life, but it is impossible to ignore the destruction that befell it. It is ironic and tragic that Vukovar, after being razed to the ground by contemporary Serbian fascism, is now turning into a training ground for the manifestation of Croatian fascism.
The darkness, Ustasha symbolism, and inciting lyrics represent a message completely contrary to the idea of a place of special piety. For a multi-ethnic city trying to build a shared life, such an atmosphere is even more devastating. Sweeping this problem under the rug and expecting things to fizzle out on their own does not lead to a solution.
Although there is no definitive answer on how to counter this trend, one thing is certain: pretending nothing is happening and that there are more important problems is the one thing that must not be done.
