Inat - ‘noble grit’

Said out loud, it sounds like I’ve invoked something negative, almost pejorative. Hard heads who won’t budge in the face of certain doom: this colours the West’s analysis of inat’s manifestation in the recent wars. Conceptually unique to the ‘Slavs of the South’, and translating poorly to “spite“ in its Serbian form and “stubbornness“ in its Turkish root, it has the character of an epithet given by the occupying oppressor, dismissive of ‘irrational’ resistance to their imposed authority. Like with other peoples who’ve felt both the sting of injustice and the need to invert an insult, it also serves as a trophy for the underdog, implying blind pride and signifying sacrifice in the face of destruction.

But to the outside observer, the conflicts and subsequent discord amongst and within the former Yugoslav republics give inat its most unflattering appearance, tying in to other negative characterisations like ‘medieval’ and ‘backward’. I remember a party where someone asked about the time difference between Montreal and Belgrade, whereby a Swiss person interjected, “Six hours and a century!“ An easy wit, but, like many people, he lacked the will to ask why things appear the way they do, which requires the drive of curiosity and the patience of study.

While I have also encountered Balkan obstinacy on my travels through Serbia, my studies of its history have revealed inat to be something deeper. The key moments of Serbian resistance to invaders and occupiers, as well as the remains of her fortifications, provide a backbone to the survival of catastrophe with dignity intact. Tsar Lazar’s famous battle offers an obvious example, but I first perceived this historical aspect of inat in concrete form in the walls of the many ruins and monasteries from the medieval kingdom. Built to last, they nonetheless couldn’t withstand the tides of violent power that moved over the land and its people.

This ‘digging in’, if you will, wasn’t only done by the occupied: on some occasions, the occupier was the one who built the walls of inat. My visit to Ćele Kula in Niš put me right up against the mortar and bone of resentment as enshrined by the enemy. A twisted mind imagined that encasing the skulls of Sinđelić’s defeated troops in stone for all to see would instill perpetual fear. And then the people twisted it back into their own memorial of resistance: how could the Ottomans not have foreseen that their actions would only deepen the entrenchment of the Serbs?

Beyond these visible signs and speaking louder to me than legends, ruins and monuments were the initial battles of the Serbian Campaign in World War One, when the Habsburgs met Serbian inat in the hills and valleys south of the Srem and had their pompous assumptions routed. Success was short lived, but early in the Great War the ‘stubborn spite‘ of the Serbs led directly to the first Allied victories and was both an inspiration and an example to the world. That kind of resolve in the face of impossible odds had set the bar high for subsequent expressions of valour. Did you know that Canada has a Rocky Mountain named after Vojvoda Putnik?

It is often said that Canada came of age in the later years of the same conflict, with our battles on the Western Front memorialized by a tradition of sacred remembrance. Vimy, Paschendale, Ypres: these names are solemnly spoken on November 11th to commemorate our sacrificed youth. But they were preceded by honours earned by Serbian soldiers at the Battles of Cer, the Drina and Kolubara, and I include them in my thoughts on that day. I would invite you to join me in redefining inat as ‘noble grit’ in honour of both our nations’ fallen.

Lest we forget.