In part 1, I talked about its origins in the Ottoman and early post-Ottoman period. By the early 20th century, this had evolved in a political culture driven by personalities instead of policy and adeptly controlled by Tsar Ferdinand. It’s a reminder that the origins of Bulgaria’s political apathy go back far further than the socialist period.
Today I want to expand a bit on how this culture evolved after the end of the First World War. At that point, Tsar Ferdinand, the man who had so dominated the political scene for decades, abdicated and left the country. His son Boris III was, at least initially, far less involved. But this moment also saw the rise of the radical Agrarian political Alexander Stamboliiski.
His government was mildly authoritarian but also extremely energetic in implementing major reforms. To many rural Bulgarians, this was the first time the government seemed genuinely interested in their needs. However, within just a few years that government was overthrown in a coup, leading to a proto-fascist government that cracked down hard on Agrarians and leftists.
That government, led by Alexander Tsankov, ultimately killed tens of thousands of its opponents, often in extra-judicial killings. This was followed by a more moderate government that brought stability and normalcy but also abjectly failed to deliver enough to the Bulgarian people to sustain its popularity.
Eventually another moderate liberal democratic government replaced that one, but the same problems of corruption and incompetence led to its failure to build real popularity or adequately respond to the Great Depression. Thus the cycle continued, when yet another coup brought a new authoritarian and anti-democratic government to power.
Ultimately, this situation forced Tsar Boris to step out from the sidelines and take more direct control over the governing of the country. Yet, despite being a committed democrat, he felt that simply returning to the democratic status quo would only further erode the country’s faith in democracy itself.
This only continued when Communists took power after the second world war. Purges of leftists from the right were followed by purges of leftists by other leftists, followed by purges of anyone who opposed the new communist regime. The lesson for anyone paying attention was to keep your head down, that openly voicing your opinion in politics was a dangerous thing to do.
Even beyond the realm of politics, the Macedonian movement in its various iterations killed over 800 people between 1923 and 1934. It was yet another example of how standing up to or even getting in the way of the wrong political group within Bulgaria could very easily get you killed.
I mention all of this because this violent cycle ensured that most people who eagerly participated in politics on any side would become at best disillusioned and at worst dead in the span of a few decades. Bulgaria’s rapid shifts in political direction regularly brought about governments that implemented harsh crackdowns on their political opponents. So if participating in political life may have felt pointless in the 1880s, 1890s, and 1910s, it was downright dangerous for subsequent decades.
Of course you could argue that today, more than thirty years from the end of communist single-party rule in Bulgaria, things should be different. But when we’re thinking about Bulgaria’s ongoing struggle with whataboutism, where politically disengaged people simply shrug their shoulders and declare that they don’t see a point in voting or protesting, we need to consider the broader historical context. Because viewing these problems as simply failures of Bulgaria’s current democratic transition misses the reality that generations of people have had political disengagement thrust upon them with very real threats of violence.
That’s without even acknowledging the reality that the kinds of Bulgarians who are most ready to engage in the political process are often also those most likely to emigrate. Taken together, I want you to consider that the battle to create a genuinely engaged, liberal, democratic society in Bulgaria is one that may take generations. But it is a battle that is firmly worth fighting, because doing so is the only way to honor all the sacrifices and struggles of those that came before.
Keep an eye on this space for another article exploring this topic in a more contemporary sense next month.