Unveiling the myth of the 1389 Battle of Kosovo
Rediscovering the Albanian narrative.
By Vesa Maxhuni | September 30, 2024
The Battle of Kosovo in 1389 is ingrained in the collective memory of the Balkans, especially that of Serbia. Although the battle happened over 600 years ago, it still holds relevance. Or, better said, it is made relevant. Collective memory is a social construct that requires upkeep by actors and institutions. It is not simply there, naturally, but rather part of a process that builds a certain perspective on the past over time.
The battle occurred on June 28, 1389 in present-day Kosovo, and marked a large clash between Balkan and Ottoman forces. A coalition army — led by Serbian Prince Lazar and consisting of Serbs, Bosnians, Albanians and Wallachians — faced invading Ottoman forces commanded by Sultan Murat I. This battle was part of the larger struggle for control over the Balkan peninsula between the expanding Ottoman Empire and the fragmented Balkan polities. Although the battle did not produce a definite battlefield victory for either side, it weakened the Serb forces, ultimately leading to Serbia becoming a vassal of the Ottoman Empire.
Among historians and scholars, the battle is known as an important part of Serbian collective memory and a driving narrative in Serbian nationalism, a nationalism that culminated with the 1998-99 war in Kosovo.
Back in 1989, then-President of the Presidency of the Socialist Republic of Serbia Slobodan Milošević instrumentalized remembrance of the battle to mobilize people for war. On the 600th anniversary of the battle, Milošević held a speech in Gazimestan, Kosovo, at the memorial site of the battle. He pointed to Serbian heroes from that time and argued that “Serbia had reclaimed its dignity,” referring to the violent oppression of Albanian protesters and the suppression of Kosovo’s autonomy, which had been guaranteed under the 1974 Yugoslav constitution.
Albanians, being mostly of Muslim faith, were presented as the descendants and collaborators of the Ottomans, the forever enemy, even though Albanians fought side by side with Serbs in 1389. Milošević portrayed Serbia in the battle as the defender of Europe and Christianity. The speech is an important event that significantly shaped the course of later events in Yugoslavia.
But what is less known is the Albanian narrative of the battle.
A new perspective on Kosovo’s history
Growing up in the Kosovo Albanian diaspora, I always had an interest in Kosovo’s history, specifically the 1998-99 war, since that was the reason I grew up and lived in Germany. I would talk about it mostly with my father, who has always been a history buff. When I asked him about why Kosovo is so important to Serbia and why the war happened, he explained that Kosovo’s history is very complicated, and Serbia claims the territory of Kosovo as its own due to ancient battles. I forgot about this remark until years later, when I started to do my own research.
I was interested in Serbian nationalist discourse. In online forums, I read about how Kosovo is the “cradle” of Serbdom. This caught my attention. Upon further research, I learned how Kosovo does not only hold geographical and historical relevance in Serbian nationalist narratives, but also has a sacred mythological meaning, which is why the battle is also known as the “Kosovo myth.”
Why hadn’t I heard the story being told by Albanians?
For a long time, I had assumed that the battle was fought only by Serbs. What I did not know until very recently is that the battle was not fought by Serbs alone but also by Wallachians, Bosnians — and Albanians. I started questioning why I was solely confronted with the Serbian narrative to that point, a narrative that excluded Albanian participation in the battle. Why hadn’t I heard the story being told by Albanians, compared to how I always heard about the legendary battle fought by Skanderbeg, who also fought the Ottomans in the 15th century?
Asking these questions of myself led me to wonder whether Kosovo Albanians remember — and if so, how — the battle of 1389? How does it play into their collective memory?
Epic songs and oral tradition among Kosovo Albanians
An epic song — also known as an epic poem or ballad — is a lengthy narrative work, often in verse, that recounts the extraordinary deeds of legendary or historical heroes. These epic songs are a crucial part of cultural heritage and are traditionally passed down orally through generations.
In her book “The battle of Kosovo 1389: An Albanian Epic,” sociologist Anna di Lellio comments on and analyzes the Albanian epic of the battle and its relevance. She specifically focuses on the period after the 1998-1999 war and how the epic plays a part in Kosovo Albanian national identity and memory. The book also has translations of epic songs from the battle.
During Milošević's reign, when folk culture institutions were demolished and Albanian students and teachers were excluded from education institutions while the curriculum focused on Serbian history and language, singing epic Albanian songs became a dangerous act of resistance.
Di Lellio points out that in contrast to Serbia, where the oral tradition diminished in the 20th century, the oral tradition holds high importance for Albanians in Kosovo to this day. During Milošević’s reign, when folk culture institutions were demolished and Albanian students and teachers were excluded from education institutions while the curriculum focused on Serbian history and language, singing epic Albanian songs became a dangerous act of resistance.
Di Lellio’s book features a selection of songs sung or recorded between 1923 and 1998. One difference from the Serbian narrative is that the Albanian epic portrays the battle as having been fought by different groups, not mainly by Serbs or Albanians. Di Lellio emphasizes that commemorating the battle strengthens the assertion of an Albanian presence in Kosovo for over 600 years, thereby reinforcing Kosovar Albanians’ claim of being indigenous to the region and consistently resisting foreign invaders.
The nation and the myth: reconquering the past
With the Republic of Kosovo’s declaration of independence in 2008, a new nation-state was created. A state is not solely a political institution, but also a social one that shapes the identity of the people inhabiting it. This is why myths and legendary heroes play a crucial part in fostering a national identity while simultaneously legitimizing its existence, since those myths usually predate the creation of the state. Collective memory is fluid, dynamic and constructed. It is ingrained into our bodies and minds by institutions and actors, such as politics, culture and education. The timing of remembrance is also vital to memory politics.
In 1998, shortly before war in Kosovo began, Ismail Kadare published “Three Elegies for Kosovo.” This novel retells the story of the battle of Kosovo, mixing fiction with reality and underlining the multi-ethnic character of the army fighting the sultan. Kadare also addresses the old struggle between Albanians and Serbs, who nonetheless fought together against the Ottomans. In the end, the fight to stop the Ottoman push deeper into Europe was lost — but it was lost together. By publishing such a novel with this narrative during the ongoing oppression of Albanians in Kosovo, Kadare simultaneously deconstructed and reconstructed the collective memory of the battle.
The battle could have been used as a reminder of the unity of the different ethnic groups in the Balkans.
Kadare acted as a memory agent, returning Albanians’ participation to the peoples’ consciousness and reminding everybody of a common past. At the same time, he countered the narrative perpetrated by Serbs like Milošević, who portrayed the battle as having been fought exclusively by Serbs and constructed the Albanians as an enemy in the same manner as the Ottomans were. This selective portrayal of the past was part of the propaganda machine inherent to Milošević’s fascist regime. The battle could have been used as a reminder of the unity of the different ethnic groups in the Balkans. Instead, it was invoked to further justify the violent repression of Albanians in Kosovo.
This shows how history does not consist of neutral factual events but is human-made, selectively constructed, portrayed and utilized by the current hegemonic powers. This is true for both the Serbian narrative and the Albanian one. Kadare emphasized the unity of the different ethnic groups, but he did so by pointing out their Christian identity. In the novel, the ghost of Sultan Murat contemplates whether he might be the reason for all the bloodshed in the region: “During my worst hours I am seized by the suspicion that maybe my blood is the origin of all this horror… O Lord, hear my prayer! Take away all the mud around here, for even a few drops of blood are enough to hold all the memory of the world.”
Ascribing such a violent past and present to the Balkans reinforces the narrative of the region being characterized by perpetual conflict, where inter-ethnic violence has persisted for centuries.
It is implied that the sultan’s battle aligns with the events that occurred over 600 years later. Given Milošević’s anti-Muslim rhetoric and the persecution of Bosniaks and Albanians, both of whom are predominantly Muslim, it is an interesting choice to align these events with Ottoman rule in the Balkans. Ascribing such a violent past and present to the Balkans reinforces the narrative of the region being characterized by perpetual conflict, where inter-ethnic violence has persisted for centuries. This perception is further emphasized by the frequent description of the Balkans as a “powder keg” by Western media and historians, perpetually on the brink of war, in contrast to a supposedly civilized and advanced Europe.
From wars between Catholics and Protestants to colonial and imperial enterprises and the two world wars, Europe’s history is marked by violence. The Balkan wars are part of this broader pattern, not an exception requiring foreign invaders to incite conflict. Kadare’s portrayal of the sultan and the Ottomans plays into the Orientalist discourse around the battle and the past of Albanians. By fighting the Ottoman Empire — representing Muslims — the Christian, and thus European identity, can be reclaimed for Albanians, reaching as far back as the 14th century.
In the current discourse around European Union (EU) membership for Kosovo, this is an important factor. Many Kosovo Albanians see EU membership as a rightful claim and validation of their European identity. In such a context, political aspirations are deeply intertwined with identity politics. However, asserting a Christian past as the true religion and identity of Albanians disregards the current Muslim identity of the majority of the population, a faith that has existed for centuries, and in some cases, even predates the Ottoman Empire. This is exactly what memory politics are about: remembering a certain aspect of the past and framing it in relation to current politics and power plays, in this case EU accession.
The battle of Kosovo was not fought in religious, national or ethnic terms — it was a conflict between empires and kingdoms that exploited religious differences. The past is romanticized,
glorified and mystified by applying our modern concepts of identity onto it. This can lead to dangerous and exclusionary rhetoric, as seen in Austria, where the far right exploits the 1683 Battle of Vienna against the Ottomans to fuel anti-Muslim racism. It claims that Vienna is once again besieged by enemies — this time, Muslim immigrants, equating them with the 17th century Ottomans.
Oral history and material memory
Memory manifests itself in various forms, one of them being oral history. In Kosovo, one organization dedicated to this is the Oral History Initiative (OHI), a group of researchers who record life stories that intersect with Kosovo’s history. It focuses on oral storytelling due to its important part in the culture in Kosovo, and created an archive consisting of interviews, photographs and published books.
One such story accessible to a broader audience is that of Kamile Türbedar, a Kosovo Turk and hairdresser born in Mitrovica in 1941. She later relocated with her mother to Gazimestan, near Prishtina, where the memorial for the battle is located, to oversee the tomb of Sultan Murat, slain during the Battle of Kosovo. Türbedar comes from a lineage of tomb keepers, as implied by her surname, which means “tomb keeper” in Turkish. Prior to her, her three uncles, and before them, her grandparents tended to the tomb. Currently, her cousin assumes the responsibility. Through their caretaking, the memory associated with the tomb endures, upheld and kept alive by individuals like Türbedar and her kin.
The OHI also presented a collection of postcards portraying memorials in Prishtina. One greeting postcard says “20 – 1944-1964: anniversary of the liberation of Prishtina” in Serbian. It depicts three monuments: the Serbian Orthodox monastery in Gračanica, the tower at Gazimestan and the mausoleum of Sultan Murat near the tower.
The tower was built in 1953 and is dedicated to Serb heroes who died during the battle of Kosovo. The türbe (an Islamic tomb or mausoleum that usually contains the remains of a notable figure) holds part of the sultan’s remains, while his body was buried in Bursa, Türkiye. The legend says that this is where the Turkish and Serbian flag carriers died.
These monuments show how collective memory is materialized and built. As part of the landscape in Kosovo, it becomes part of the mnemonic landscape as well. Monuments help us remember, but they also dictate what to remember and how to remember it. The Sultan’s türbe reminds us that this is where he died, and although the battle was not won, his death is seen as some kind of victory. The tomb was neglected for centuries, until it was renovated in the 19th century, shortly before the Ottoman Empire collapsed.
Through neglect, commemoration can be forgotten, but as soon as we start to actively take care of it, we remember and make it part of our collective consciousness.
This is a metaphor for how commemoration works. Through neglect, commemoration can be forgotten, but as soon as we start to actively take care of it, we remember and make it part of our collective consciousness. It is also important to note that the memorial site is placed in an area that is not central, just like how the battle is not a central part of the collective memory of Kosovo Albanians.
Navigating the legacy of the past
The battle remains a subject of ongoing discussion among Albanians, as evidenced by numerous articles and research studies. This could be considered as an attempt to reconquer the past and memory of the trauma inflicted upon Albanians, in which the Kosovo myth played its part. By challenging the Serbian narrative, some power can be reclaimed by Albanians by placing themselves into the long history of Kosovo. However, this does not mean that the Albanian perspective is the factually correct one. It is still likewise a myth, a fabrication, an imagined part of history.
One particular point that is brought up quite often is the identity of the assassin who killed Sultan Murat. What we know is that it is now clear who assassinated the sultan and what his ethnicity was. But despite that, there have been many legends and myths about this hero in both Serbian and Albanian narratives. In the Serbian narration, his name is Miloš Obilić; in Albanian, he has a very similar name: Millosh Kopiliq.
Millosh Kopiliq, a Christian Albanian, is a central part of the Albanian epic songs. He represents the personification of the victory of Albanians, of resistance to foreign invaders — be it the Ottomans, or later the Serbs in the 1990s. But he remains a fiction, a legend and a myth in both narratives. That does not make him any less important for the memory culture among Kosovo Albanians. He is a hero, whether he really existed or not, and serves as a source for Albanian identity and presence in Kosovo.
In discussions surrounding the 1389 battle, actual events are often overshadowed by their interpretation, framing and intended usage. The battle was a battle of empires and kingdoms, whereas we retrospectively apply modern concepts such as national and ethno-religious constructs to it in order to emphasize political and national interests. Myths are integral to memory politics and national ideologies, which is why there needs to be an awareness of particular framings and how these myths are told. We shape our present by shaping our past, and thus shape our future.
It is hard to retrace why this battle, compared to other ones fought by Albanians, plays a less important part in the collective memory of Kosovo Albanians. But after immersing myself into the remembrance of the battle, I found not just one storyteller but multiple ones. Epic songs, novels, monuments — they all play a part in keeping the memory of the battle alive, even if it is not as popular as other parts of Kosovo Albanian history. I dug into and listened to the past, becoming part of the practice of remembering and reconstructing the past myself.
Feature Image: K2.0 via cc.
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