In 1911, Andrić became the first president of the Serbo–Croat Progressive Movement, a member of which was none other than his friend Gavrilo Princip, who would kill the Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo three years after Andrić took office.[1] With the creation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes in 1918, Andrić entered government service and embarked on a diplomatic career. By the 1920s, he had become part of the diplomatic establishment of the kingdom, where his writings on political and cultural questions fed his nationalist leanings and his belief in centralization.
Towards the end of his diplomatic career, Ivo Andrić was appointed Yugoslavia’s ambassador to Nazi Germany[2]a post he held until the German invasion of Yugoslavia in April 1941. As ambassador, Andrić attended official functions with the Nazi leadership and reported back to Belgrade on the shifting balance of power in Europe. After Germany invaded and occupied Yugoslavia in April 1941[3], Andrić returned to Belgrade, where he largely withdrew from public life during the war. This ambassadorship is often noted by his critics, since it placed him in close contact with the Nazi regime, even though there is no evidence he personally collaborated with it.[4]
The bridge
Now why did Andrić choose a bridge as the main character of his book? The original title of the book Na Drini ćuprija, is a wordplay that substitutes the Serbian name for the bridge most, with a Turkified one deriving from köprü. But what is special about an Ottoman bridge in Višegrad?
The bridge is a trope representing connection, achieved via an enormous undertaking of human power and ingenuity. Uniting two parts of a town, a country, and also the people. Doing so by overcoming mighty natural obstacles such as rivers or gorges. It is the essential symbol of human supremacy over nature. As such, it is the main point of the book. It represents the leap forward from the medieval ferry that connected the two banks of the Drina. The advancement from the Middle Ages to the new modern Bosnia. Built by the good grace and orders of Mehmet Sokollu, the local kid who was taken to Constantinople to become a soldier slave, part of the elite and influential Janissary corps, the personal standing army of the Sultan, and who rose to the rank of the Grand Vizier, being de facto the most powerful man in the most powerful empire.
Although Andrić, in this book, tries to convince the reader that the bridge was more of a gift that Mehmet made to his former home country, history is different. Bridges in the Ottoman Empire were indeed built by endowments of powerful beys as part of vakifs (foundations – in the contemporary sense), however, they served a military and, more importantly, commercial purpose in the first place. Built in 1577, the bridge in Višegrad was part of a series of infrastructure built during the 16th and 17th centuries in the Balkans, particularly in Bosnia. The reason for the building of the bridges during Mehmet Sokollu’s time in Višegrad, Mostar (1566), Trebinja (1574), and others, was the maritime Ottoman–Venetian wars of the 16th century, especially the war of 1571–77, when, in the Battle of Lepanto, the whole of the Ottoman military fleet was defeated by the Holy League, effectively rendering them unable to protect their trade interests in the eastern and larger Mediterranean.
The Ottomans were put in a position to urgently strengthen their land trade routes towards Ragusa (Dubrovnik), their only vassal on the Adriatic, having a special status of a quasi–free cityThis prompted the clearing of roads, construction of bridges and caravanserais, so that Ragusan and Ottoman subjects could pass freely via the long Balkan hinterlands, from the Adriatic to the capital and back. Through Ragusa flowed Balkan raw materials, silver, copper, lead, timber, hides, and wool, transported by caravans across Bosnia and Serbia. In return, Western goods such as textiles, glass, weapons, paper, and colonial commodities reached Constantinople. Hence, such strategic investment in bridges like the one in Višegrad was not merely architectural splendor or local pride – it was part of a deliberate Ottoman policy to integrate their Balkan territories economically and militarily.
Andrićs problematic stances
Andrić supported the creation of a strong, centralized kingdom in which Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes would coexist under a unified national identity. This was quite unlike the federalists in Yugoslavia, who advocated for significant autonomy of the different nations within the state.[5] In the 1930s, Andrić’s political views included a skepticism toward certain minority populations. For instance, in January 1939, Ivo Andrić, then Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs in the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, prepared a confidential document titled “Aide–Mémoire on the Albanian Question”[6] for internal use within the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. This memorandum, often referred to as the “Albanian Draft,” was created at the request of Prime Minister Milan Stojadinović during a period of heightened diplomatic engagement with Italy. The document outlined Yugoslavia’s strategic interests regarding Albania, particularly in light of Italy’s increasing influence in the Balkans. The memorandum proposed the partition of Albania between Yugoslavia and Italy, with Yugoslavia annexing the northern regions, including the port of Durrës. The document suggested the relocation of the Albanian population to Turkey. Andrić emphasized the economic and military advantages of controlling northern Albania, including access to the Adriatic coast, fertile lands, and key transport routes. In the draft, he talked about the importance of weakening Albania as a political entity to prevent the emergence of a unified Albanian nationalist movement, which could influence the Albanian population in Kosovo and northern Macedonia. The memorandum explicitly notes that Yugoslavia could gain both material resources and political leverage by reshaping the demographics of the region. The draft discusses potential methods for implementing these demographic changes, including incentives for relocation, encouragement of voluntary emigration, and coordination with Turkey for resettlement programs. Andrić also evaluated the potential resistance from local populations and the risks of international criticism, suggesting that diplomatic work and propaganda campaigns would be necessary to mitigate backlash. Although this proposal reflects a colonizing trend in Yugoslav policy at the time, and it was never enacted, it left a big stain on Andrić, making him one of the prime hegemonists in the eyes of millions of Yugoslav Albanians.
Andrić’s dual identity, as both a novelist and a statesman, defined his career and determined the political controversies that would surround his legacy. While celebrated internationally for his Nobel Prize–worthy novel The Bridge on the Drina, some critics argue that his depictions of Ottoman rule and Muslim communities reinforced stereotypes that later fed into nationalist narratives in the region. For some, he is an author whose writing transcends ideology and nationalism, while for others, he represents an intellectual committed to oppressive systems.