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Bilgin Site
- September 14, 2025 08:00
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The story of the 1942 concert in Leningrad has already been unraveled and recounted in every detail. But the 1994 Sarajevo concert, although much closer in time, still remains shrouded in the fog of silence. Therefore, precisely on the anniversary of Leningrad, let us pause for a moment on these two cities, on these two concerts; and try to lift, at least a little, the veil of mystery that covers the second concert in particular…
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The Nazi siege of Leningrad began on September 8, 1941, and ended on January 27, 1944. A total of 872 days. If we were to place a magnifying glass on this bloody tablet of history, where more than a million civilians lost their lives, we could extract from it an epic of the universal history of humanity, embroidered with a series of extremely shocking events.
A story where good and evil, meanness and honor, greatness and humility, misery and solidarity collide, the story of everything that belongs to the human being. A surreal and shocking picture, a modern version of Bosch's "Judgment Day", where wherever you look, a profound story about humanity is outlined.
Just 50 years later, half a century after that infamous Nazi siege, this time right in the heart of Europe, another siege took place. It was precisely that, the siege of Sarajevo, by Serbian forces. The siege began on April 5, 1992 and ended on February 29, 1996. A total of 1.425 days. Thus registering as the longest siege in modern history.
But the connection between Leningrad and Sarajevo does not lie only in the chronicles of pain. Nor is it just a matter of history. From the perspective of art and resistance, both cities are connected by invisible threads of a “distant kinship”, connected through invisible capillaries. Just as the Nazis are close, barbarically and in dark shadows, to the Chetniks, who have filled their chapters in the imaginary book of the “Universal History of Infamy”.
From Dmitri Shostakovich to Zubin Mehta, from Karl Eliasberg to Emir Nuhanović, there are underground bridges that are not figments of my imagination, but reflections of the magical repetition of history.
With one difference: The story of the 1942 concert in Leningrad has already been unraveled and recounted in every detail. But the 1994 Sarajevo concert, although much closer in time, still remains shrouded in the fog of silence. Therefore, precisely on the anniversary of Leningrad, let us pause for a moment on these two cities, on these two concerts; and try to lift, at least a little, the veil of mystery that covers the second concert in particular…
In search of the "known unknown"
While the roof of our "common state" (Yugoslavia) was creaking and ready to collapse, if you looked at the map from above like a bird, down there, about 300 kilometers away as the crow flies, I had just started high school in Pristina, the capital of Kosovo.
In those days, without social networks, we lived completely under the blinding influence of the Milošević regime's divisive propaganda about everything that was happening on the war fronts (How blind you are, my historical irony! Milošević's new propaganda minister during those years is today the president of Serbia, Aleksandar Vučić!)
Years later, I read about the siege in diaries and book pages and saw it in films. The more I got to know those who had experienced the siege, especially musicians and writers; the more I listened to them; I pushed them to talk and carefully opened their memories; the more I realized that countless epic human situations had remained untold, untold, untold… still, no one had delved into the memories and historical facts of that time.
So, in search of the “known unknown” I discovered the historical significance of that wonderful concert that took root in Sarajevo; which, even though almost 30 years have passed, few people still know in detail. But now, let’s stir up a little dormant memory. Let’s go back to a distant September, 83 years ago, in Russia.
“Fireman Shostakovich”
The brilliant composer of the 7th century, Dmitri Shostakovich, had completed the first two movements of his famous XNUMXth Symphony at the beginning of the siege of Leningrad.
As the Nazi bombings escalated, Shostakovich expressed his desire to become a volunteer soldier. But they wouldn't accept him! Perhaps because he wore glasses with very high diopters! Glasses that looked like the bottom of a jar and without which, Dmitri was more limited than a person born blind. He begged to be allowed to at least become a firefighter! And, on one of those occasions, Dmitri's request was granted. In fact, Time magazine, in a 1942 issue, placed the famous composer in the spotlight, with the title "Firefighter Shostakovich".
In the days when the siege was progressing, the 7th Symphony had already evolved into a "Symphony of Resistance" while Shostakovich, along with his family, had moved; initially taking refuge in a bunker, and then, through a successful operation, they were withdrawn from the besieged city to settle in Kuibyshev (today's name: Samara).
While there, the genius writes the last two parts of the symphony, we are returning to Sarajevo.
Irfan Lubijankić's crazy and ingenious idea
A city surrounded by mountains on all four sides, steep as a bowl and with a river running through the middle; a city that is a mother to all! A Jerusalem in the heart of Europe! A city that is more than the West and more than the East.
Orthodox, Catholics, Jews and Muslims. A noble human harmony where courtyards opened to each other; a naturalness that humanity had perhaps only achieved after 300 years of coexistence.
Meanwhile, the appearance of Sarajevo after April 5, 1992 was this: snipers lined up on the mountains everywhere, tanks, mortars... Regular and irregular soldiers, paramilitaries, Chetniks, transformed into zombies, acting as if they were in a hallucinatory state after exposure to neurotoxic smoke. No way out of the city!
You either had to sprint down a 100-meter death trail, which snipers had turned into a shooting range, or walk 800 meters in the “Tunnel of Hope” – just 1 meter wide and 1.6 meters high, underground. Water, electricity, food, and medicine were becoming increasingly inaccessible!
But, surprisingly, almost no one shows any sign of despair, and even a hint of indifference. After all, everyone seems to believe that "The world will intervene anyway," "In this era, do sieges happen anymore?", "Here we are, in the heart of Europe"...
This belief and expectation continue for almost two years, but the intervention that the people of Sarajevo hoped for from the West never comes! The ethnic cleansing that had begun with the siege, the concentration camps, the systematic rapes; all of this, documented with evidence, is presented to the heads of European states. Files filled with serious violations of international law and the laws of war are handed over to the authorities. But there is no reaction!
(The then-President, Alija Izetbegović, would later write in his memoirs: “Even though they saw it all, they remained silent, motionless, as if they were dead.”)
It was precisely at such a moment of exhaustion, when all channels of political diplomacy were blocked, that the then Foreign Minister, Irfan Ljubijankić, dared to follow a completely unusual path – to climb the back stairs of diplomacy.
The Bosnian Minister Ljubijankić was at the same time a cervicofacial surgeon, an ENT specialist, but above all, a classical music composer and pianist. He wants to address the conscience of the West one last time, in his own way: by organizing a concert! But not just any concert – a concert that will break the siege; an attempt to achieve with music what could not be achieved with weapons! Difficult times, when madness and genius were merging with each other…
In Russia, the reward was 250 grams of bread
Shostakovich, in December 1941, began his 7th Symphony in Leningrad, the “Resistance” which was to be composed in four movements, in Kuibyshev. Shostakovich’s genius is unquestionable, but it has also been documented that he was a “merciless madman!” Imagine: he wanted the Resistance Symphony to be played by an orchestra of 111 (yes, one hundred and eleven!) musicians. For the wind instruments alone, he had designated 20 instrumentalists: 8 horns, 6 trumpets, 6 trombones!
But who would play this complex symphony with an incredible volume? The Leningrad Radio Orchestra, exhausted and starving? Especially when its conductor Karl Eliasberg was left with only 15 musicians! Eliasberg, desperate, tried to fill the orchestra. He put up notices in every corner of Leningrad, calling for anyone who could play an instrument, young and old, to come forward. At the end of the notice he wrote: “The reward for all musicians: 250 grams of bread per day!”
First it was a dream, then it became a state secret
While the Russian conductor Eliasberg was eagerly awaiting applications in Leningrad, we return to the Bosnian Foreign Minister, Ljubijankić. To make what he had planned a reality, there was only one man in his mind: the conductor of the Military Orchestra and clarinetist, also a major, Emir Nuhanović.
Izetbegović and Ljubijankić (what a unique duo: a philosopher president who had written serious philosophical treatises and a foreign minister who was a composer of classical music!) immediately summoned the Emir to the presidency building. In February 1994, a nearly secret meeting took place. The concert project was no longer just an idea; it had already become a state secret. At that meeting, Izetbegović not only approved the project, but also gave the Emir his personal satellite phone. Moreover, with a written decree and an immediate appointment, he appointed Emir Nuhanović as the new director of the Sarajevo Philharmonic Orchestra!
But what Philharmonic?! Its last director had abandoned Sarajevo at the outbreak of the war. The musicians had not gathered for two years, and no one even knew if they were still alive or where they lived, or if they still had the opportunity to play. Everything was a mystery in itself!
Even if he managed to assemble the orchestra, Emir faced another equally great challenge: convincing the musicians of a project as fantastic as it was unbelievable! Making them believe that a world-famous conductor was coming to besieged Sarajevo to give a grand concert, and that this concert would be broadcast live around the world! Ah, if only they would be convinced of all this!
After all, who would obey a young director, only 30 years old? Even the fact that he held the rank of major would not be enough. (And since we are on the subject of obedience, let me open a long parenthesis about the word “obedience”: in the red Stalinist communism of the Soviet regime, obedience was a central concept; while in the self-government of the pink socialism of Tito's Yugoslavia, the word obedience did not even exist. And especially for artists – pride, disobedience and disdain were their almost natural attitudes! Part of character!)
The Emir knows this well. That is why he does not seek to win with authority, but with a bold chess move! He aims high, very high. Only one name is spinning in his mind: Zubin Mehta. (Today, at the age of 88, he still practices four-hour sessions. A living legend, an incomparable Maestro!)
The Emir has heard that this conductor, born in Mumbai, also has a deep humanist streak! So, he will try to reach him.
But how?
How can a world-famous conductor be contacted… from a besieged city?
To be continued in the next issue of the Culture Supplement
Dr. Bilgin Sait was born in 1977 in Gjilan, Kosovo. He completed his high school education in Prishtina, while in parallel, for a period of six years, he also attended classical music education, focusing on violin. In 1997, he won the state scholarship of the Republic of Turkey where he continued his studies at the Faculty of Medicine at Ege University. While he completed his specialization in internal medicine at Hacettepe University. Currently, Dr. Sait practices as a specialist in internal diseases at the American Hospital in Istanbul. His special field of interest includes the management of complex clinical cases with multi-systemic problems.
In addition to medicine, he has a special passion for the history of music in the context of humanitarian crises. For years he has been working on a novel and a scholarly monograph dedicated to the 1994 Sarajevo concert; an event of particular symbolic importance in the context of war and cultural resistance. This article was originally published in Turkish, in the newspaper “Oksijen” (see link: Saraybosna's cadre changed 'ağıt')
Translated into Albanian: Fjolla Spanca