Hi all, long time listener, first time caller
I recently went on holiday to Croatia, and had the fun idea whilst out there to go on a little road trip from Zadar in the south to Zagreb in the North visiting as many "spomeniks" as we could along the way. For those not familiar spomeniks are monuments which were built in the former Yugoslav republic between the 1950s and 1980s, usually abstract and commemorating the atrocities that happened in the country during WW2 at the hands of the Ustasha (a homegrown fascist regime). The monuments are these days frequently in a state of neglect and ruin, and rarely are they adopted and maintained by the modern governments that replaced the Yugoslavian union after another slew of wars, which led to more atrocities.
This spomenik designed by Vojin Bakić has so much backstory it would be completely remiss of me to not include it, so even though this my first post it's going to be a long one! Thank you to Spomenik Database and the Remembering Yugoslavia podcast for all of the information on the history of this strange and wonderful place, and for the historical images I have used here.
History of the Area
Mali Petrovac is one of the tallest peaks in the Petrova Gora (Peter's mountain) range in the middle of the Abez Forest in central Croatia. In 1941 ethnic Serbs were being forcibly removed from their homes by the Ustasha, and those who lived in the nearby villages of Kordun and Banija knew that the same fate was awaiting them. Amidst the growing fear and unrest, the Communist Party of Croatia met in July 1941 at the peak of Mali Petrovac and vowed that they would form a stronghold against the fascists, and joined forces with the local people to put up armed resistance and to set up a Partisan hospital hidden deep in the forest to treat the wounded. Over 15,000 people sought shelter and protection from fascism at the mountain.
The Ustasha responded to the uprising with force and a renewed determination to exterminate the local populace. Initially this drew more locals to fight for the Partisan forces, but these were peasants armed only with pitchforks and a fierce determination, and they were no match for trained soldiers. Over 300 of the local people died in the struggle, and by spring of 1942 the Ustasha had seized control of the mountain (although the hospital was never discovered). Over the course of the war, 27,000 people from the local area lost their lives to the fascist regime, either executed on their capture or perishing in concentration camps.
The Spomenik
Given the rousing story of the brave yet ultimately futile resistance to fascism which occurred there, it's no surprise that there had been talk of a monument at the summit of Mali Petrovac shortly after the end of the war, but it wasn't until 1974 that these plans started gaining traction, and the monument wasn't opened until 1981. This coincided with increasing political instability as cracks started to show in the union, and despite grand plans for a museum, library, a cafe, and huge conference centre inside the building, these never quite came into fruition.
Opening ceremony, October 1981
Like many buildings, the monument was abandoned at the start of the war in 1991, and being a monument to ethnic Serbs designed by a Serbian architect in a time of high racial tensions means the monument rapidly fell victim to looting and vandalisation. As a high vantage point in an ethnically Serbian area, the Croatian army took Petrova Gora and the monument and in the mid 90s it was briefly used as a military base.
Croatian soldiers at the monument, 1995. This is one of the last photos of the building in its complete state.
After the war, the future of the spomenik was and still remains uncertain. For years it continued to be stripped for its steel panels, falling further and further into disrepair. Mobile and television transmitters appeared on the roof of the building, although no permit was ever granted for these. The monument featured in the flop Netflix show Tribes of Europa, but this was contentious amongst local people as the monument was presented without context, and a public building being utilised for filming whilst it remains unavailable for public use left a bitter taste in their mouths.
Our Visit
Despite being rurally located and situated in dense woodland, the monument was not difficult to find using satnav. The paths up the mountain are winding and narrow, and as you reach the summit are in an increasing state of disrepair. Eventually, you reach a clearing with a small parking area and the remnants of the facilities built to accommodate the throngs of visitors that are conspicuously absent today, and at the top of a grand staircase, there it is.
The rest areas are in the state you might expect after over 20 years of being derelict, but show the hopes that this place was to be a thriving tourist destination, with dining areas and the remains of bars and kiosks, as well as bathrooms and a small number of places for people to stay.
If anyone understands this joke, let me know
Ascending the stairs there is a granite altar which is engraved with the 5 pointed star of communism and the Croatian and Serbian inscription "Within the foundation of our earned freedom is the peak of Petrova Gora, always our mother mountain"
It's hard to put the presence of this building into words. Despite it missing so much of its shining exterior, the skeleton of it being layed bare, insulation tumbling out of the gaping wounds left by so many years of callous disrespect, it has an extraordinary gravitas. Even more strangely, despite it being modern and futuristic in design even by today's standards, it doesn't feel at all out of place in the middle of the forest surrounded by the hum of insects, bird calls, and the wind rustling through the trees. With the visitors' centre behind you, it's almost possible to imagine that this isn't the result of a fallen communist regime, but instead the work of an enormous glittering fungus, or retro-futurist termites.
Entry was not difficult. The front door is locked and bolted, but the removal of the panels means there are several people sized holes to choose from. There was nothing present by way of fencing, security, CCTV or anything else to serve as a deterrent. This led us into one of the side wings of the building, which has both a ground level and a suspended concrete balcony, and shows the natural spotlighting that was meant to serve as the main source of light within the building.
My husband (who is by far the most sensible of the two of us) had been concerned about entering prior to this point, but as soon as we did the worries lifted, and they blurted out "this place is more solid than our house!". And they would be right- despite the haphazard facade, the building inside is solid concrete and structurally pretty sound. It clearly was built to last for generations, even if it has been left behind.
Rounding the corner brings you to the main core of the building, and the staircase, which speaks for itself. I've always wondered if people who say that they hate brutalism realise that breathtaking things like this are lumped in with the hideous 1960s concrete office block in their town.
Whilst it is unintentional, the missing panels let you look out over the trees as you climb above them, and at times there's something almost cathedral-like as the light streams in
Whilst the stairwell does feel very solid, I of course wouldn't recommend anyone who decides to visit venturing onto the outside structure, or the elevator shafts, unless you crave death in excessive ways.
At the top of the grand staircase is a small, rusted metal spiral staircase, at the top of which is the roof. As something always intended to be accessible in the finished building, there are safety railings, and you can see as far as Zagreb, Slovenia, and Bosnia.
And so concludes my first ever report! I hope that you all enjoyed reading it half as much as I loved getting to visit such a beautifully bizarre place.
I recently went on holiday to Croatia, and had the fun idea whilst out there to go on a little road trip from Zadar in the south to Zagreb in the North visiting as many "spomeniks" as we could along the way. For those not familiar spomeniks are monuments which were built in the former Yugoslav republic between the 1950s and 1980s, usually abstract and commemorating the atrocities that happened in the country during WW2 at the hands of the Ustasha (a homegrown fascist regime). The monuments are these days frequently in a state of neglect and ruin, and rarely are they adopted and maintained by the modern governments that replaced the Yugoslavian union after another slew of wars, which led to more atrocities.
This spomenik designed by Vojin Bakić has so much backstory it would be completely remiss of me to not include it, so even though this my first post it's going to be a long one! Thank you to Spomenik Database and the Remembering Yugoslavia podcast for all of the information on the history of this strange and wonderful place, and for the historical images I have used here.
History of the Area
Mali Petrovac is one of the tallest peaks in the Petrova Gora (Peter's mountain) range in the middle of the Abez Forest in central Croatia. In 1941 ethnic Serbs were being forcibly removed from their homes by the Ustasha, and those who lived in the nearby villages of Kordun and Banija knew that the same fate was awaiting them. Amidst the growing fear and unrest, the Communist Party of Croatia met in July 1941 at the peak of Mali Petrovac and vowed that they would form a stronghold against the fascists, and joined forces with the local people to put up armed resistance and to set up a Partisan hospital hidden deep in the forest to treat the wounded. Over 15,000 people sought shelter and protection from fascism at the mountain.
The Ustasha responded to the uprising with force and a renewed determination to exterminate the local populace. Initially this drew more locals to fight for the Partisan forces, but these were peasants armed only with pitchforks and a fierce determination, and they were no match for trained soldiers. Over 300 of the local people died in the struggle, and by spring of 1942 the Ustasha had seized control of the mountain (although the hospital was never discovered). Over the course of the war, 27,000 people from the local area lost their lives to the fascist regime, either executed on their capture or perishing in concentration camps.
The Spomenik
Given the rousing story of the brave yet ultimately futile resistance to fascism which occurred there, it's no surprise that there had been talk of a monument at the summit of Mali Petrovac shortly after the end of the war, but it wasn't until 1974 that these plans started gaining traction, and the monument wasn't opened until 1981. This coincided with increasing political instability as cracks started to show in the union, and despite grand plans for a museum, library, a cafe, and huge conference centre inside the building, these never quite came into fruition.
Opening ceremony, October 1981
Like many buildings, the monument was abandoned at the start of the war in 1991, and being a monument to ethnic Serbs designed by a Serbian architect in a time of high racial tensions means the monument rapidly fell victim to looting and vandalisation. As a high vantage point in an ethnically Serbian area, the Croatian army took Petrova Gora and the monument and in the mid 90s it was briefly used as a military base.
Croatian soldiers at the monument, 1995. This is one of the last photos of the building in its complete state.
After the war, the future of the spomenik was and still remains uncertain. For years it continued to be stripped for its steel panels, falling further and further into disrepair. Mobile and television transmitters appeared on the roof of the building, although no permit was ever granted for these. The monument featured in the flop Netflix show Tribes of Europa, but this was contentious amongst local people as the monument was presented without context, and a public building being utilised for filming whilst it remains unavailable for public use left a bitter taste in their mouths.
Our Visit
Despite being rurally located and situated in dense woodland, the monument was not difficult to find using satnav. The paths up the mountain are winding and narrow, and as you reach the summit are in an increasing state of disrepair. Eventually, you reach a clearing with a small parking area and the remnants of the facilities built to accommodate the throngs of visitors that are conspicuously absent today, and at the top of a grand staircase, there it is.
The rest areas are in the state you might expect after over 20 years of being derelict, but show the hopes that this place was to be a thriving tourist destination, with dining areas and the remains of bars and kiosks, as well as bathrooms and a small number of places for people to stay.
If anyone understands this joke, let me know
Ascending the stairs there is a granite altar which is engraved with the 5 pointed star of communism and the Croatian and Serbian inscription "Within the foundation of our earned freedom is the peak of Petrova Gora, always our mother mountain"
It's hard to put the presence of this building into words. Despite it missing so much of its shining exterior, the skeleton of it being layed bare, insulation tumbling out of the gaping wounds left by so many years of callous disrespect, it has an extraordinary gravitas. Even more strangely, despite it being modern and futuristic in design even by today's standards, it doesn't feel at all out of place in the middle of the forest surrounded by the hum of insects, bird calls, and the wind rustling through the trees. With the visitors' centre behind you, it's almost possible to imagine that this isn't the result of a fallen communist regime, but instead the work of an enormous glittering fungus, or retro-futurist termites.
Entry was not difficult. The front door is locked and bolted, but the removal of the panels means there are several people sized holes to choose from. There was nothing present by way of fencing, security, CCTV or anything else to serve as a deterrent. This led us into one of the side wings of the building, which has both a ground level and a suspended concrete balcony, and shows the natural spotlighting that was meant to serve as the main source of light within the building.
My husband (who is by far the most sensible of the two of us) had been concerned about entering prior to this point, but as soon as we did the worries lifted, and they blurted out "this place is more solid than our house!". And they would be right- despite the haphazard facade, the building inside is solid concrete and structurally pretty sound. It clearly was built to last for generations, even if it has been left behind.
Rounding the corner brings you to the main core of the building, and the staircase, which speaks for itself. I've always wondered if people who say that they hate brutalism realise that breathtaking things like this are lumped in with the hideous 1960s concrete office block in their town.
Whilst it is unintentional, the missing panels let you look out over the trees as you climb above them, and at times there's something almost cathedral-like as the light streams in
Whilst the stairwell does feel very solid, I of course wouldn't recommend anyone who decides to visit venturing onto the outside structure, or the elevator shafts, unless you crave death in excessive ways.
At the top of the grand staircase is a small, rusted metal spiral staircase, at the top of which is the roof. As something always intended to be accessible in the finished building, there are safety railings, and you can see as far as Zagreb, Slovenia, and Bosnia.
And so concludes my first ever report! I hope that you all enjoyed reading it half as much as I loved getting to visit such a beautifully bizarre place.
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