Folklorica FULL 2021_Edit 6.28.22 Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 36 Sviće “Smurf”: Intertextual Linkages in Protests Against Montenegro’s 2019 Freedom of Religion Law Nikolina Zenović Indiana University Bloomington, IN, USA Abstract Elements of traditional folklore and popular culture were invoked in protests opposing the 2019 Zakon o slobodi vjeroispovijesti ili uvjerenja i pravnom položaju vjerskih zajednica [Montenegrin Law on Freedom of Religion or Belief and the Legal Status of Religious Communities], hereafter referred to as the 2019 Freedom of Religion law. The 2019 Freedom of Religion law replaced an older law on religion and caused controversy for its various articles that would thereafter require evidence of church property ownership, without which such properties would transfer into state property. Many people identifying as Serbs in Montenegro protested the updated law to express their concern that holy sites of the Serbian Orthodox Church in Montenegro might become government property under the new law. Protest materials intertextually linked traditional folklore and popular culture characters to the movement. As intertextuality refers to the relationship between two or more texts brought into the same frame, folkloric elements emerged in protests in Montenegro and representations on social media through intertextual linkages. This paper addresses intertextual references made by the hip hop collective Beogradski Sindikat in their song and music video supporting the protests, “Sviće zora” [Dawn Breaks] and people’s re- contextualizations of the popular culture figure of Papa Smurf, from the cartoon franchise “the Smurfs,” in Montenegro and abroad. In analyzing such protest materials, I argue that an intertextual approach to protests facilitates understandings of protesters’ meaning-making processes and the semiotic interactions between folklore and protests. Introduction (1) Through the emergence of social media and technological innovations, new creative forms of protest have become possible. Such new forms are not wholly detached from traditional expressive strategies, but rather they build upon them to creatively assert protestive stances. As folklore connects people to their pasts, it also helps them make sense of their presents. Therefore, in connection with protests, folkloric elements can serve as points of inspiration and sources of strength for protesters. Over the last few years, numerous protests have taken place in Montenegro. Throughout 2019, anti-corruption protests called for the resignation of President Milo Đukanović and his government based on accusations of links to organized crime [Tomovic 2019]. Many anti-corruption protests took place throughout Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 37 2019, but December held something else in store. On 27 December 2019, the Zakon o slobodi vjeroispovijesti ili uvjerenja i pravnom položaju vjerskih zajednica [Law on Freedom of Religion or Belief and the Legal Status of Religious Communities], hereafter referred to as the 2019 Freedom of Religion law, replaced an older law on religion. The 2019 law caused an uproar amongst members of the Serbian Orthodox Church in Montenegro who opposed its articles effectively requiring evidence of religious community property ownership dating prior to 1918. Without such evidence, properties held by religious communities would transfer into the property of the state. Protests in response to this updated Freedom of Religion law erupted both in and outside of the country, with many people who identify as Serbs participating [Paleviq 2020: 75]. (2) Protesters expressed concern that the holy sites of the Serbian Orthodox Church in Montenegro might become government property under the new law. Beginning in the winter of 2019-2020, these protests then circulated transnationally as diaspora populations opposing the law organized protests in the United States, Serbia, Australia, and elsewhere [Paleviq 2020: 75; Srbija Danas 2020; Reese 2020]. During protests against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law in Montenegro (spanning 2019 and 2020), protesters intertextually linked creative elements to support their movement. Such elements included the song “Sviće zora” [Dawn Breaks], the song’s music video, and the popular cultural figures of the Belgian comic and cartoon franchise, “the Smurfs.” (3) Intertextual linkages become apparent in the protestive expressions of “Sviće zora” and signs referring to Papa Smurf. Texts are taken to be semiotic objects or stretches of discourse that can be identified as bounded, internally cohesive, and intelligible “things” [Silverstein and Urban 1996: 1; Bauman 2004: 4]. Intertextuality is an interdiscursive process in which texts are related to other texts [Bauman 2004: 4]. Texts are indexically tied to particular contexts; thus the following discusses how texts, through intertextual linkages, are decontextualized from one context and recontextualized in others to creatively express opposition to the 2019 Freedom of Religion law [Silverstein and Urban 1990: 15]. Through attention to protest texts, this article highlights the value of attention to intertextual linkages in considerations of the semiotic interactions between folklore and protests. Throughout the following sections, I refer to news sites and social media posts to provide evidence of how locals, protesters, or those supporting the protests interpreted the intertextual elements of these protest materials. I consider how some protesters identifying as Serbs in Montenegro and in virtual spaces embedded references into the protest materials they produced or considered implementing. I also explore how a few Serbs in the Balkans and Serbian or Serbian-American members of the diaspora interpreted such intertextual materials. (4) Although there are many other voices to consider in this protest context, they are outside the scope of this paper, although they merit further investigation. Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 38 This paper seeks to explore how and from where protesters invoked strength and resistance to the 2019 Freedom of Religion law. After providing examples of intertextual linkages in the context of protests against the Freedom of Religion law, I address the significance of the uptake of such interconnections and their intended audiences. Considering questions of intertextuality in protests can help us better understand the folkloric interconnections that often motivate protest texts, particularly at a time where such texts often circulate virtually beyond their origins. Thus, the following explores instances of intertextuality in the song and music video of “Sviće zora” and the re-contextualization of Papa Smurf in the protests against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law. Attending to intertextual linkages reveals the semiotic interactions among folklore, popular culture, and protest materials that protesters utilize. I argue such an approach facilitates nuanced understandings of protesters’ sources of support and inspiration as well as of the circulation and interpretation of such supporting materials. Background The 2019 Freedom of Religion law declared that if religious communities cannot provide evidence of the ownership of assets, then their religious sites and land on the territory of present-day Montenegro (from public revenues or those that were in state ownership prior to 1 December 1918) would become state property [Zakon o slobodi vjeroispovijesti 2019]. The 2019 Freedom of Religion law effectively requires religious communities to give evidence of property ownership dating prior to 1918, which caused an uproar among members of the Serbian Orthodox Church in Montenegro, because the law would potentially transfer properties currently held by the Serbian Orthodox Church to the national government [Heckert 2020: 11]. Although I refer to this updated law as the 2019 Freedom of Religion law for the sake of brevity, those protesting against these updates did not express opposition to religious freedom. Rather, protesters opposed articles in this law that would require specific evidence of property ownership [Zakon o slobodi vjeroispovijesti 2019]. These articles would particularly impact religious communities with religious centers outside of present-day Montenegro, such as those of the Serbian Orthodox Church [Zakon o slobodi vjeroispovijesti 2019]. Demonstrations against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law began in the winter of 2019-2020 and spanned much of 2020. Many people identifying as Serbs participated in protests in Montenegro and abroad (New York, Indiana, Serbia, Austraila, and elsewhere) [Paleviq 2020: 75; Srbija Danas 2020; Reese 2020]. Although the protests may appear to solely indicate discontent with a law about religious freedom and properties, they are embroiled within a larger context of ongoing strains between Montenegrins and Serbs in Montenegro over the country’s national identity. While this historical overview is abridged, it serves to situate the particular protest materials discussed throughout this paper. There are numerous competing historical voices on Montenegrin identity, and conflicting narratives of unified or separate national identities have been invoked in the Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 39 region throughout political disturbances [Lazarević 2011: 174]. However, in the case of the protests against the updated 2019 Freedom of Religion law, it is important to note that Serbian and Montenegrin identities have not always been considered as mutually exclusive [Džankić 2014: 353]. Identifications are complicated in this context, where some people in Montenegro consider themselves Serbs and members of the Serbian Orthodox Church, while some consider themselves Montenegrin and identify with the Montenegrin Orthodox Church [Lazarević 2011: 189]. Furthermore, the 1990s brought a new phase of differentiation for these identities [Džankić 2014: 353]. As ties to Serbia became unfavorable to some politicians in Montenegro (due to the political and economic situation resulting from the wars), a new articulation of Montenegrin ethnic identity further separated Montenegrins from Serbs [Lazarević 2011: 181-182]. By the late 1990s and 2000s, those who identified as both Montenegrin and Serbian sometimes reconciled their ethnic identities with their positions on Montenegrin independence [Džankić 2014: 355]. Additionally, over the past thirty years, there has been a dismantling of joint Montenegrin/Serbian identities with respect to tensions over local identities, nationhood, and statehood, against the backdrop of the autocephalic conflict between the Serbian Orthodox Church and Montenegrin Orthodox Church [Džankić 2014: 371; Paleviq 2020: 70]. As a result, protests against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law are situated in this ongoing consideration of Montenegrin national identity and the interpretations of this national narrative by its citizens. Methodology This paper is part of a preliminary exploration of the potential of intertextual readings of protest materials and their uptake. Protest materials and responses to them described in this paper express the perspectives of a few Serbs participating in or commenting on protests against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law. This project is inspired in part by my observations of protest materials and online discussions by diasporic populations beginning in the winter of 2019-2020 and extending into the summer. The COVID-19 pandemic inhibited my intended fieldwork amongst protest participants in Montenegro. Due to these limitations, the following analyses rely upon my observations of publicly available commentaries on news articles and videos (from Montenegro and Serbia), a music video on YouTube, posts on Twitter, and a since-deleted Facebook post. My interpretations of such comments/posts are thus drawn from my own positionality of being raised in the United States but spending childhood summers in Serbia and Montenegro, and understanding of the situation in Montenegro while residing in the United States during the time of the protests. Texts, Intertextuality, and Protests Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 40 Entextualization can be thought of as “thingification,” or the process by which a phase of discourse or configuration of signs with “thing-like” qualities becomes bounded in some way and is made into a durable identifiable object, a text [Silverstein and Urban 1996: 1]. This process stabilizes a stretch of talk or configuration of signs into a text that can then be referenced, classified, transcribed, reanimated, etc. [Silverstein and Urban 1996: 2]. Entextualization objectifies a stretch of discourse and in doing so renders “a text extractable from its context of production” [Bauman 2004: 4]. From this perspective, Bauman [2004] defines a text as “discourse rendered decontextualizable” [4]. Such decontextualization precipitates the recontextualization of this “thingified” text into another context [Bauman 2004: 4]. It is precisely these co-constitutive processes that facilitate textual circulation [Bauman 2004: 4]. Texts are considered broadly here, as “durable, repeatable, classifiable” things, (most often stretches of talk or configurations of signs) available for decontextualization and recontextualization, that are relationally linked to other texts [Bauman 2004: 1-4; Hanks 1989: 95]. Thus, this paper discusses the following: songs, music video, image of Papa Smurf, tweets, and commentaries as texts. Intertextual practices are inherently interdiscursive as they link elements and can embed other discourse [Goodman et. al. 2014: 450]. Therefore, interdiscursivity and intertextuality are related concepts dealing with the process of discourse and texts referring or pointing to one another. Intertextual processes can be consciously or less consciously undertaken, as we constantly use the texts and words of others but do not always draw attention to the ways in which we live in a “world of others’ words” [Lazar 2015: 243; Bakhtin 1986: 143]. In what follows, I discuss protesters’ conscious intertextual recombinations in this protest context. Intertextuality is a stimulating framework with which to look at protests because it not only draws attention to elements identified and transplanted into protest spaces but also subsequently considers their newly created re-presentation in those novel contexts. The contextual nuances of intertextual linkages reveal a better understanding of the sources from which protesters draw strength, support, and encouragement. Therefore, studying the utilization of intertextual processes in this context further identifies and contextualizes the audiences that are for or against that which protesters demonstrate. Under such an intertextual lens, folklore becomes a significant topic of focus because of its potential to be revealed to or recognized by particular audiences of shared backgrounds or understandings. Furthermore, such an approach encourages questions of why and how protesters take up particular elements in communicating their opposition. I argue that attention to protesters’ conscious intertextual recombinations can reveal which folkloric elements protesters identify with and elect to amplify. Scholars have commented on the importance of intertextuality as a tool available to protest movements. (5) Anthropologist Sian Lazar [2015] applied the concept of intertextuality to discuss street demonstrations in Bolivia and Argentina. Lazar [2015: 243] frames intertextuality as the process through which texts borrow from one another, creating relationships between the texts that Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 41 highlight “the communicative aspect of symbolic action.” She argues that the references constituting a citation result in both a physical and visual intertextuality and that this intertextuality is significant to the “symbolic economy of protest and political action” [Lazar 2015: 243]. Therefore, studying such interdiscursive processes illuminates attention to the range of possible readings and audiences of intertextual acts [Lazar 2015: 252-253]. Lazar confirms that a consideration of intertextuality and protests can provide distinctive insights into understandings of agency and intentionality. Ben Said and Kasanga [2016: 78], while writing about Tunisian and Egyptian protests, also emphasize the recombinatory aspect of intertextuality. They reference Fairclough’s [1992] description of intertextuality as texts “being full of snatches of other texts,” and emphasize the resulting “new hybrid or nodal” texts [Ben Said and Kasanga 2016: 78]. In Ben Said and Kasanga’s [2016: 78-79] case, instances of intertextuality of a sign and slogan’s reverberations across events created a hybrid discourse between protests and general displeasure. Their analysis reveals how language mediates and becomes embedded in protest, acknowledging intertextuality’s meaning-making potential for protesters and wider audiences upon circulation of protest texts [Ben Said and Kasanga 2016: 78-79]. As protesters choose to carry signs and banners, they likely express their beliefs through references to ideas and messages relevant to them. (6) As such, studying intertextual linkages in the context of protests can provide a detailed understanding of the sources of inspiration and support from which protesters pull as well as the new or hybrid elements created out of such linkages in the current protest context. In these instances of protest, signs, banners, and supportive anthems can be multi-vocal and intertextual by altering and transforming components of what they aim to replicate as representative of the protestors’ messages. The interplay of voices in intertextual practices created in, or, as a result of, protests is a powerful source of insight into protesters’ envisioned message and goals. Through audiovisual, artistic, and literary intertextual linkages, protesters navigate and converge the time-space of their actions within their socio- historical context. Familiarity with contextualized references in intertextual elements is necessary for such linkages to be recognized as such. As interdiscursive linkages can strengthen symbolic power, they can also create contestations of events or, in many cases, interpretations that fail to convey [Lazar 2015: 243; Nakassis 2013: 70]. In any case of intertextuality, intertextual gaps, the “semiotic and/or ideological space” between a text and its prior iteration, occur [Goodman et al. 2014: 453]. With each intertextual reference, a text is made available for endless uptakes, exposing it to potential acceptance or failure through misinterpretation. However, this failure of referential recognition provides valuable insights into the perspectives from which people interpret the intertextual acts in question. As such, failures, or misinterpretations, of intended intertextual linkages can be as informative as their successful uptake. Considering intentional intertextual linkages in protests can help us better understand the folkloric or popular cultural Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 42 embeddings that motivate protest texts, particularly at a time where such materials often circulate beyond their origins virtually. Folklore, Protests, and Virtual Spaces The work of Trevor Blank and Lynne McNeill acknowledges the Internet as a space of folkloric production and circulation that facilitates intertextual uptakes. According to Blank [2014: 4], folkloric expression is “reflective and serves as a ‘mirror’ of societal and cultural values; folklorists should therefore use this mirror to analyze society and culture.” For Blank [2014: 11], the Internet’s virtual space remains bound to the physical field with which folklorists are familiar as it shares with the physical field the presence of folk groups, customs, relationships, and other communicative forms. The protest texts that circulated virtually in the context of the protests against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law draw from sites such as Twitter and Facebook that reconceptualize person-to-person communication and encourage folkloric transmission [Blank 2014: 14]. Furthermore, as sites of daily social interaction, Facebook and Twitter can be particularly significant gathering spaces for members of the diaspora as they may bridge some physical, geographical, and situational boundaries [McNeill 2009: 83]. Since folklore appears where social interactions take place, the Internet embraces folkloric circulation [McNeill 2009: 82-83]. When discussing memes, McNeill [2009: 85] has noted how “the basic idea of a piece of lore surviving through a combination of successful transmission and cultural relevance” can be applied to the transmission of folklore, especially in digital spaces. While folkloric intertextual references are made in face-to-face interactions, the Internet has allowed such linkages to circulate to wider audiences by way of its technological and communicative features. The following analyses, therefore, consider such folkloric circulations in virtual spaces. Additionally, traditional folklore can be intertwined with protests due to its ability to connect protesters with each other as well as with their audiences. The materials created for protests and chosen to represent people’s struggles have the capacity to make visible that which is erased or ignored by those against which people are protesting [Brenner 2021: 507]. Folktales invoked in protests and protest art often depict symbols and images that communicate protesters’ shared thoughts and understandings [Brenner 2021: 506-507]. Discussing semiotic relations mediated by the Internet, in what follows, a protest music video, signs, and social media posts are considered in terms of their intertextual facilities and intended audiences. “Sviće zora:” The Song, the Music Video, the Protest As the protests in Montenegro unfolded and circulated, a Serbian hip-hop collective from Belgrade, Beogradski Sindikat, released the song “Sviće zora” and a subsequent music video. The song and its video support the struggle of those protesting against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law. “Sviće zora” incorporates Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 43 the sound of the gusle, a single-stringed Balkan instrument. The gusle is regarded as traditional, evoking a sound inseparable from epic poetry and oral history. In the guslar’s [gusle player, bard] performance with the gusle, “the past is related to the present by means of reverberative memory, both in the voice and the gusle string that together form a vocal-instrument feedback circuit” [Ernst 2017: 45]. The gusle has long been a significant medium through which Serbian oral epics and folk traditions are recreated and thus transmitted in the present [Ernst 2017: 46]. Therefore, the use of the gusle in the song and music video emphasizes ancestral continuity, invoking traditional folk music to support the protesters’ cause. The oral poems and epics disseminated by the vibrations of a guslar’s singing alongside the gusle strings “re-presence,” or through the lens of intertextuality, index the operative past [Ernst 2017: 46]. Thus, oral epic memories are brought into the present and re-constructed through each performance, maintaining both similarities and differences from their initial forms [Ernst 2017: 46]. “Sviće zora” commences with the sounds of the gusle. The traditional instrument invites listeners into the story that will follow, tuning their ears to the message that will be told and setting the tone for the song. As the sounds of the gusle fade out, a more contemporary beat punches in, and the rap begins. Throughout the song, strong beats are intertwined with undertones of traditional Serbian folk music. At its peak, the chorus includes the following lines: Свиће, свиће рујна зора, [It breaks, it breaks the ruby dawn, cве од Брда па до мора. from the Hills to the sea. Одјекује глас са Гора, A voice resounds from the Mountains, народ да пробуди! to awaken the people!] [Beogradski Sindikat, 15 February 2020, YouTube] (7) Throughout the song, the lyrics interweave Serbian history and Montenegro’s prominent features of its mountains and coastline. Additionally, the video clips it weaves together repeatedly highlight the protest slogan “НЕ ДАМО СВЕТИЊЕ” [“NE DAMO SVETINJE,” “WE DO NOT GIVE UP OUR HOLY PLACES”]. (8) As the song fades out, the sound of a crowd clapping and chanting “Ne damo svetinje” from a protest in Montenegro builds and closes out the song. In the music video, this portion of the song is accompanied by a video clip of a protest from which this sound was ostensibly obtained. As the song and video conclude, the last image viewers are left with is a message of gratitude to the protesters from Beogradski Sindikat. While the song draws on the melodic significance of the gusle to introduce its message, as its modern beats “kick in,” another reference is introduced. “Sviće zora” invokes traditional elements and local history through the gusle as well as its auditory resemblance to a well-known folk song. The song is strongly influenced by the famous traditional song “Još ne sviće rujna zora” [Ruby Dawn is Not Yet Breaking], which some have deemed “the unofficial anthem” of Montenegro [Telegraf 2013]. “Sviće zora” takes the melody and structure of “Još ne sviće rujna zora” and couples it with the accompaniment of Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 44 the gusle and protestors’ chants. Through its name and melodic structure, “Sviće zora” immediately indexes this famous folk song. By transplanting the melody of this traditional song into “Sviće zora’s” 2020 interpretation, continuity with the past is established, yet marked as a modern take on a significant folk tune. According to Feđa Dimović of Beogradski Sindikat, “Sviće zora” was inspired by the group’s visit to Montenegro where they attended a liturgy on Epiphany, followed by the swim for the Holy Cross in the Morača River adjacent to the Morača Serbian Orthodox Monastery [Politika 2020]. Dimović claims the song “wrote itself” upon the group’s return to Belgrade out of their desire to give back to those protesting the 2019 Freedom of Religion law [Politika 2020]. Inspired by their experiences in Montenegro, Beogradski Sindikat composed “Sviće zora” as a message of support for the protesters and their cause. However, not only did they compose a song to convey their support, but they also created a music video that visually represents and records the protests in a digital space. In the music video, the sounds of the gusle are paired with images of Serbian Orthodox churches and monasteries in Montenegro and people marching in the snow holding religious icons and banners. Aerial shots of protests and videos taken on the ground make up the majority of the music video, featuring numerous protestors and various locations. Glimpses of protest signs, flags, religious icons, and banners are featured throughout the video. In addition, clips of Serbian Orthodox priests speaking at protests and gatherings are paired with the melody and lyrics of the song. Protesters, diverse in age and gender, are shown united in their marches against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law. “Sviće zora’s” music video takes viewers on a tour of various protest events, highlighting intertextual banners along the way. About sixteen seconds into the video, an intertextual image appears in a clip that pans over people holding up an image of Petar II Petrović Njegoš, Prince-Bishop of Montenegro from 1830-1851, with the following quotation: “ТВРД ЈЕ ОРАХ ВОЋКА ЧУДНОВАТА НЕ СЛОМИ ГА АЛ ЗУВЕ ПОЛОМИ” [The hard walnut is a peculiar fruit, you won’t crack it, but you will break your teeth] [Njegoš 1847 [1989]: 40]. Njegoš’ Gorski Vijenac [The Mountain Wreath] is a play in verse based on local historical narratives of Njegoš’ ancestor Metropolitan Danilo’s efforts to regulate tribal relations in eighteenth-century Montenegro [Pavlović 2003: 144]. The quotation features a line written in a letter by the character Bishop Danilo to the Vizier (a high-ranking Ottoman official). This line is a response to the Vizier’s letter, which mentions “Јаки зуби и тврд ораx сломе” [strong teeth can crack even the hardest walnut] [Njegoš 1847 [1989]: 39]. This particular line cited by the protesters indexes qualities of strength and resistance by those in Montenegro against outside forces that are re-contextualized in contemporary protests against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law. Protesters, therefore, appear to employ this citation to index strength in their expression of resistance to the new law. The historical play is considered a significant literary work for many Serbs [Pavlović 2003: 145]. (9) The protestors’ use of this quotation from The Mountain Wreath potentially draws on the prominence of Petar II Petrović Njegoš as a historical hero [Pavlović 2003: 145; Domachowska 2020: 38]. (10) Furthermore, Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 45 because the play is inspired by epic poetry, often disseminated by guslars, its reference in a protest sign indexes folk traditions conveyed by the gusle, as discussed above. This intertextual reference in the protests would be recognizable to those familiar with The Mountain Wreath’s local social significance. Although the source of this video clip is not disclosed in the music video, Beogradski Sindikat’s choice to incorporate it into their video implies their resonance with its intertextual appeal. Therefore, drawing on folk music and local histories, the song and video intertextually bring aspects of the past into current protests. “Smurfing” Resistance: Intertextual Links of Papa Smurf in Acts of Protest In addition to intertextually linking traditional folk music and epic poems to protest acts, protesters invoked the popular culture figure of Papa Smurf in their demonstrations. The uptake of Smurf imagery and references included in these protests against Freedom of Religion law in Montenegro stem from Papa Smurf’s recontextualization in a Montenegrin elementary school. Around 30 January 2020, at the Osnovna Škola Jugoslavija Bar [Yugoslavia Elementary School in Bar], third-grade teacher Rada Višnjić’s students drew Papa Smurf in the center of the Serbian flag during a classroom activity (see Image 1). While some news sources and social media posts mention that Višnjić asked students to draw Papa Smurf over the Serbian flag, others report Višnjić’s statements that the idea came from her students [Kolektiv.me 2020]. The images made their way into digital circulation with Višnjić’s posting of them on social media (reportedly with parental permission), and continued to diffuse over social media and local news articles [Kolektiv.me 2020]. Taking Papa Smurf’s character as a text, here he is partially decontextualized from his original Smurf Village home. However, retaining his emblematic red hat and white beard, Papa Smurf is recontextualized and brought into another text as he merges with the Serbian flag. In this way, Papa Smurf is singled out as significant to the protests against the Freedom of Religion law because of his red, blue, and white appearance that parallels the colors of the Serbian flag and represents the protesters’ ties to the Serbian Orthodox Church in Montenegro. Although Papa Smurf may have been invoked in the protests earlier, the event in the elementary school in Bar, Montenegro provoked the viral spread of this figure. Discussing the classroom activity and its circulation on social media, an article by the news site Novosti re-circulated images of the students’ drawings and asserted that, as a result of the activity, Papa Smurf “…bez sumnje je postao novi simbol borbe za očuvanje srpskih svetinja u Crnoj Gori” [...has, without a doubt, become a new symbol of the struggle for the preservation of Serbian holy sites in Montenegro]” [NovostiOnline 2020]. Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 46 Thus, as the images created by the children spread through local news stories and on social media, Papa Smurf as a symbol of resistance to the 2019 law on Freedom of Religion was born [Kurir.rs 2020]. Because Papa Smurf’s relation to the protests appears to have originated in an elementary school, he may have initially been selected due to his readabilty to children who are likely familiar with the cartoon character. However, Papa Smurf was taken up in other contexts by adults as well, suggesting his meaning was readable to those of various ages. Intertextually invoking Papa Smurf in protest materials and discussions about the protests is both elaborated on through social media platforms as well as in news reports and interviews. For example, Ivan Marojević, a Serbian writer, commented: Image 1. Somee of Rada Višnjić’s students’ drawings reported by the Novosti’s article with parental consent [NovostiOnline 2020]. Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 47 Мора да буде неки симбол који је јасан свима, и тако је, ето, дошао до цртаног филма. А можда и постоји дубља порука у виду да Црна Гора јесте један цртани филм мада један доста мрачан цртани филм. [There has to be a symbol that is clear to everyone, and that is how, here, it came to an animated film. And maybe there is a deeper message in the vision that Montenegro is an animated film, though, a rather dark animated film] [RTS Oko 2020]. With a hint of sarcasm, Marojević, who supports the protests, asserts that Papa Smurf, as a symbol, is readable to “everyone.” He, then, goes further to consider the significance of Papa Smurf being indexed in the context of the protests, pointing to both the figure’s cartoon origins and to his deeper signification as a character that perseveres. Extending his interpretation of Papa Smurf’s intertextual appearance in the protests, Marojević compares the situation in Montenegro to that of a dark animated film, referencing his discontent with the circumstances. Papa Smurf's re-entextualization, re-making into a new identifiable text, in connection to the protests in Montenegro was taken up in numerous acts of protest against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law. Some opposing the updated law have invoked Papa Smurf’s indexicality of resistance to a stronger hegemonic power. Many view Milo Đukanović as autocratic and corrupt, failing to maintain the democratic standards he claims to espouse [Tomovic 2019]. A tweet by the account @TheRightSerb goes as far as to identify Đukanović by a new nickname, “GargaMilo”: “#Montenegro regime’s oppression against citizens is expected to escalate, as the corrupt president Milo Djukanovic, now known as #GargaMilo, visibly shaken in power he’s held for more than 30 years, has no recourse save for brute force, intimidation and retribution” [SerbHero 2020]. In the Smurf comics, Gargamel is the nemesis of the Smurfs who hunts them ruthlessly with the intent of turning them into gold [Rovin 1991: 13]. In this tweet, this user creatively recombines a personal view of Đukanović with that of Gargamel, intertextually linking the two into a new frame of reference. This reentextualization is used by the tweet’s author to voice discontent with Đukanović and intertextually “hashtagify” him as a villain. When Đukanović is compared to Gargamel, the evil wizard who towers over the small Smurfs, for some, the intertextual reference of Papa Smurf in the protests draws attention to his persistence in the face of challenges from more powerful adversaries. In an interview, film director Danilo Bećković breaks down the symbolism of Papa Smurf and Gargamel in the protests as follows: Ко је Велики Штрумф, а ко је Гаргамел то је јасно. Штрумпфови су одговор на апсурд који власт намеће као правило. Не само да су узели себи за право да намећу све највеће неистине о Црној Гори, историји, култури него захтевају и од људи који знају истину да се Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 48 те истине одрекну и захтевају да се на њихову лаж пристане и да им се помаже лагати. [Who is Papa Smurf, and who is Gargamel, that is clear. The Smurfs are a response to this absurdity that the government imposes as a law. Not only have they taken it upon themselves to impose all the greatest untruths about Montenegro, history, culture, but they also demand, from people who know the truth, to renounce those truths, and demand that their lies be accepted and that they help them lie] [RTS Oko 2020]. Here, Bećković outlines that the indexicality of Papa Smurf representing the protesters against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law and Gargamel referring to Đukanović “is clear” in this context. Bećković and Marojević’s explanations evidence the meaning-making process of protesters intertextual linkings of Papa Smurf and Gargamel to the protest context. Further uptakes of these Smurf references are exemplified by numerous news reports and social media posts, as discussed above. Beyond his re-entextualization in the classroom, social media, and broadcast interviews, Papa Smurf was also carried in protests in Montenegro, as captured by the scene in the “Sviće zora” video. An image of Papa Smurf appears on a black flag held by one of the protesters. Although the clip is brief, it speaks to the active use of Papa Smurf in protests on the ground in Montenegro. Papa Smurf is once again intertextually invoked to amplify the protesters’ resistance to the 2019 Freedom of Religion law. This instance of intertextuality is multi-layered, in that Papa Smurf is invoked in the protests on the ground, and this scene is then captured and featured in the “Sviće zora” music video. Given that the music video compiles numerous protest clips, the decision by Beogradski Sindikat to include this particular scene was likely to support the Smurf’s intertextual linkages related to the protests. As such, it appears that, as Marojević mentions, the effect of Papa Smurf’s adoption in relation to the protests is intelligible to many. Due to the numerous appearances of Papa Smurf in protest materials in Montenegro, this intertextual linkage was likely perceived as useful by those who physically held up such signs and was confirmed to be an effective reference by commenters on news articles and circulation on social media. However, the use of Papa Smurf to express opposition to the 2019 Freedom of Religion law also provoked debate. Although many seemed supportive of this character’s association with the protests, others were dissatisfied. This debate over the Smurf's legibility as a sign of resistance to the 2019 law illuminates questions of intertextuality in relation to protests and social movements. Although he may function as a compelling symbol for protesters in Montenegro and some of their supporters, Papa Smurf did not travel well in the diaspora. Papa Smurf's signification spread globally in the form of memes and images from the Novosti article. Around the time of the article’s publication, conversation about Papa Smurf being taken up as a symbol of resistance had begun on a Facebook group for Serbs and Serbian-Americans, presumably in the United Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 49 States. A conversation about Smurf imagery in U.S.-based protests in solidarity against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law encouraged those planning to attend to draw on Papa Smurf’s success at attracting media attention in Montenegro. The original poster argued that dressing up as Smurfs would have the same effect and would illustrate the protesters’ demands to an American audience. However, some countered that this kind of attention would not favorably amplify their cause. A debate over the efficacy of Smurf imagery thus ensued. Although Papa Smurf had been successfully interpreted as a signifier of resistance in Montenegro, some commenters rebuked the original poster and claimed that the Smurfs, because of their cartoon origins, would only discredit their cause. This is not to say that people in former Yugoslavia would welcome the idea of dressing as Smurfs, but rather points to the conflicting beliefs of the Serbian or Serbian-American Facebook users engaging with this post. Some commenters argued that such a protest would be flashy and garner attention by American audiences, while others expressed the belief that these costumes would attract ridicule from Americans. Although the reason for the post’s deletion is uncertain, it may very well have been deleted due to the extensive comments opposing and attacking the idea of Smurf imagery in U.S.-based protests. As we can see, Papa Smurf made his intertextual journey from a classroom to news reports and online spaces such as Twitter and Facebook. Each intertextual act brought with it a different audience and opportunity for the interdiscursive link to be recognized or overlooked. Intertextuality, Uptakes, and Intended Audiences Through both references to traditional and popular cultural texts, the protesters invoke elements of history and perseverance in their stance against the law in question. However, as exhibited in the Facebook group, intertextual linkages are open to debate in terms of their semiotic efficacy and legibility. Recall that intertextual gaps, the distance between texts and their prior iterations, can compress this distance emphasizing the construal of an act as intertextual. However, this intertextual recognition is not a given. Rather, the communicative competence of the intertextual act’s recognition as such rests on an intended audience’s understanding of its linkages to prior texts. In this way, entextualizing Papa Smurf in the context of the protests is dependent on peoples’ recognition of both Papa Smurf in his original cartoon context and his distinct use as transplanted into protest images. Re-contextualizing Papa Smurf here erases his childish attributes and instead reanimates him as signifying resistance against a more powerful adversary. In doing so, Papa Smurf becomes more than just a Smurf but rather a signifier of resistance, pointing to the ways in which he is not exactly the small, red, blue, and white character being reproduced. Even if an intertextual link is achieved, its interpretation or uptake can be disputed due to differences in perspectives and contexts [Gal and Irvine 2019: 139; Nakassis 2012: 627]. Concerning protests against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law, the intertextual linkage of Papa Smurf failed in an instance abroad Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 50 where some questioned proposed uses of Smurf imagery in protests in the United States. The challenges to or support of Papa Smurf’s semiotic efficacy in the United States are reflective of the perspectives of Facebook users who engaged with this post. Recognition of intertextual linkages is limited to a set of texts and their accompanying discourses with which one must be familiar to successfully grasp the reference. Thus, to an audience unfamiliar with the situation in Montenegro and local histories these interdiscursive linkages of pairing of the gusle in “Sviće Zora” with “Još ne sviće rujna zora” and its music video portraying a reference to Njegoš’ The Mountain Wreath may interpretively fail. Such failures of recognition of intertextual acts as such illuminates an intentional intertextual linkage’s dependence on audiences’ contextual uptakes. This fact leads to questions about the intended audiences to which protesters communicate their struggles and discontents. The language of protest signs can be telling in determining whether protestors aim to speak to local, regional, or international populations. However, protesters may also simultaneously speak to multiple populations. In this instance in Montenegro, the predominance of signs in Serbian, both using Cyrillic and Latin scripts, suggests the protests being directed toward local or regional observers. The use of Serbian is intelligible to audiences in Montenegro; thus, protestors’ signage focuses its communication on locals. The lesser use of English in protests on the ground assumes the protesters were more concerned with addressing a local audience rather than speaking to the international community, with which the English language is often associated. (11) However, by referencing Papa Smurf in protest signs and tweets, protestors do also certainly speak to international audiences for which Smurfs have been decipherable characters with diverse meanings inscribed upon them [Gajanan 2018]. This conclusion is further supported by the two tweets discussed above, which were published in English, and likely directed at both diasporic and international audiences. Considering the different scales of the audience, Papa Smurf’s representation across local, national, and international spheres could produce differing opinions that challenge its interpretation as a signifier of the movement. Although Papa Smurf may have had some recognition as a protest symbol in Montenegro, he did not appear that way to some abroad, who rather believed that Smurf imagery would discredit the protests to audiences outside of the Balkans. Furthermore, to international audiences, citing materials such as The Mountain Wreath may not effectively portray the protesters’ socio-historical positionality as these audiences may be unfamiliar with the local significance of this text. In Montenegro, citing Njegoš and The Mountain Wreath in these protests is likely readable to the Montenegrin government against which protestors are demonstrating, because both are historically and culturally significant in Montenegro [Domachowska 2020: 36]. While some may overlook these references to The Mountain Wreath, Njegoš or Papa Smurf, to others, they are clear stances meant to amplify and show support for the protests. Therefore, to strengthen their movement, protesters cited locally significant figures, history, traditional folklore, and internationally recognizable characters such Papa Smurf. Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 51 Through their circulation, “Sviće zora” and Papa Smurf's meaning in the context of the 2019 Freedom of Religion law protests became readable to some, but not to others. This highlights the significance of protesters’ meaning-making processes in relation to their intended audiences, differing interpretations of semiotic configurations, and the role of perspective on uptake of a message. Although the Smurf's relation to the protests against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law emerged out of physical drawings of the character on a Serbian flag, most of Papa Smurf's dissemination as a representation of the protesters’ struggle occurred digitally. Additionally, while not a physical protest, the music video protests the 2019 law in a spatiotemporally transcendent form on the Internet. The ability to replay and share the video electronically transcends its folkloric inspiration and expands the reach of the physical protests. Such digital aspects lend themselves to questions about the role of online spaces in protest and social movements and what digital creations or recreations do for such movements. Traditional folklore might lose or displace something of its original context when it is digitized [Ernst 2017: 52-53]. However, in this process, it also gains a different meaning and significance when re-presented and re-generated digitally. Traditional folklore’s transplantation into digital spaces facilitates its availability for further intertextual uptakes as it is transformed, decontextualized, and then recontextualized. Thus, the Internet facilitates electronic circulation of folklore and preserves oral traditions through the very form that may also alter them [Blank 2014: 12]. The digital space can provide for “collective seeing” and a new form of participation in protest movements, as is especially seen by the many protests that have taken place during the COVID-19 pandemic, paving the way for creative virtual means of participation through social media [Wetzstein 2017: 26-27]. The pandemic has amplified alternatives to in-person participation in protests by expressing solidarity over social media and other virtual platforms. These innovative and developing forms of protest participation or amplification inspire questions about the future composition and reach of protests. As social media and virtual participation grow, we can only guess how memes, visual representations, and the spread of protest information influence the composition of protests. Moreover, we must wonder whether technologies influence how folkloric elements become embedded in protests. Conclusion In the over thirty years since Yugoslavia’s dissolution and fourteen years since its independence, Montenegro appears to be in a renewed state of flux in regard to its citizens’ sense of belonging. In August 2020, a parliamentary election resulted in the opposition party’s election to replace the DPS, Đukanović’s party, that had been in power since 2006. However, this political shift likewise drew protests from DPS supporters. Fast forward to December 2020, when Montenegro’s newly elected parliament approved amendments to the 2019 Freedom of Religion law, appeasing many of those who had previously protested the law. In turn, this decision again triggered protests from those opposing the Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 52 changes [RFE/RL’s Balkan Service, 2020]. While some protested against the Freedom of Religion law, others protested its amendments. In sum, we are left with a complex situation that has yet to fully unfold. Intertextuality can be a useful framework for understanding the intricacies with which people embed folkloric components in protests. This situation in Montenegro invites such an intertextual reading of protest. Protesters engaged in creative linkages of texts to support their cause. This article has identified a few notable intertextual elements of the protests against the 2019 Freedom of Religion law in Montenegro and has shown that attending to such linkages can provide valuable insights into the inspirational anchors from which protesters draw support. The examples discussed attend to the intertextual process of meaning- making from folkloric anchors and reveal protesters’ creative self and group- articulations of opposition. While each example discussed can elaborated upon further, this paper has summarized a few instances to illustrate multiple ways in which intertextuality appears in protest materials. As in-person fieldwork and interviews were not possible, the data presented here require ethnographic contextualization. Further ethnographic research conducted alongside protesters and their counterparts is intended to expand this study of the interdiscursive processes described. In this case, intertextual acts and their uptakes influence articulations of protests and their participants’ goals and communicative efforts. Protesters use texts as building blocks, charging them with new meanings. Attending to such purposive intertextuality can reveal how this process shapes protest movements and the relationship between protesters, that against which they protest, and outside audiences. Such an intertextual approach to protests, therefore, illuminates how protesters evaluate and put into motion semiotic relations in demonstrations of opposition. NOTES 1 I would like to thank Mariya Lesiv, Jeanmarie Rouhier-Willoughby, my anonymous reviewers, Eliza Frenkel, and my colleagues at Indiana University for their insightful input on this article. 2 It is possible that people not identifying as Serbs participated in the protests as well. However, addressing potential non-Serbian protesters is beyond the scope of this paper and requires further ethnographic clarification in the field. 3 The Smurf, or in Bosnian/Croatian/Montenegrin/Serbian Štrumf, invoked in protest materials was most often that of Papa Smurf, the oldest Smurf and “head of the village” who “often saves the Smurfs from the most perilous situations using his wisdom and knowledge” [The Smurfs]. Papa Smurf has a white beard and wears a red cap and pants, distinguishing him from his counterparts in white and marking him in iconic resemblance to the Serbian flag (which many protesters readily recognize). Sviće “Smurf” FOLKLORICA 2021, Vol. XXV 53 4 As I was unable to individually ask each social-media user how they identify, I am relying on my observation of users’ presence on Serbian-related Facebook pages or references to being Serbian in my identification of them as Serbian or Serbian-American. 5 See Bjork-James 2020, Lazar 2015 (citing Tilly [1993] and Werbner et al. [2014]). 6 Although more research is needed to clarify protesters’ choices in carrying signs and banners, it is implied that, in a public demonstration, protesters are aware that their signs will be read by others and are likely chosen to express particular beliefs about the protest context. 7 I have kept capitalization somewhat consistent with that of the lyrics included by Beogradski Sindikat in their YouTube video description. I cannot confirm any further significance for this capitalization but have included it to remain true to the original. Furthermore, other capitalization of verses and punctuation follows the grammar of the line as though it were prose. 8 Capitalization here reflects most instances of slogans on protest signs. Later references to this slogan will reflect typical Serbian capitalization practices. 9 For further information regarding The Mountain Wreath and its interpretations see Pavlovic 2003 and Domachowska 2020. 10 Further research and interviews with the protesters who created or held this sign are needed to further contextualize why they chose to cite the quotation above and represent Njegoš in their protest sign. 11 This is not to say that there was an absolute absence of protest materials in English. There were clearly protest materials in English that circulated abroad on social media, but most signs on the ground in Montenegro were in Serbian, based on news reports and Internet materials. However, there may have also been English materials present on the ground that escaped notice. 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