7. Gender as Collateral: The Case of Montenegro

Anti-gender mobilization in Montenegro, for the time being, does not represent an independent or new phenomenon, primarily focused on gender issues or the perceived threats of ‘gender ideology’, that could challenge the country’s achieved level of gender equality. While there are initiatives that can be characterized as anti-gender, this form of social mobilization is perhaps more aptly classified as ‘proto-anti-gender’ at this stage, given the absence of publicly recognized new organizations dedicated to anti-gender campaigns. The few anti-gender initiatives that do exist primarily originate from traditional actors of the nationalist religious right. Even then, gender issues are not consistently their priority. The right-wing actions are influenced Kuhar and Paternotte (2017) strongly by Serbian and, indirectly, Russian influences, predominantly channelled through the involvement of the Serbian Orthodox Church (SPC) in the Montenegrin public sphere. The SPC is a powerful institution that enjoys great trust among citizens(CGO, 2021), and some authors recognize it as a ‘key proxy of Russian activities’ (DFC, 2022).

In this chapter, I aim to elaborate the thesis that the multiple divisions within Montenegrin society, primarily defined by nation and religion, have paradoxically preserved the secular character of state institutions. These divisions have also, to some extent, prevented anti-gender mobilization in Montenegro, at least for now. Even the term ‘gender ideology’ has not yet taken root in the Montenegrin public discourse. It has only emerged on a few occasions and always originated from the same source—the Serbian Orthodox Church.

The term ‘gender ideology’ was first introduced to the Montenegrin media landscape in 2019, following the baptism of the first transgender person in an Orthodox church in Montenegro. This event received a blessing of Amfilohije, the then-metropolitan of the Metropolitanate of Montenegro and the Littoral, a division of the SPC in Montenegro. At that time, in an unsigned statement by the SPC, it was emphasized that cases of sex change due to justified and very specific medical reasons represent a completely different reality from ‘the propaganda and justification of same-sex relationships, the senseless gender ideology that we have witnessed in recent decades, and which are both, without any doubt, a sin’ (Tomović, 2019, italics mine). The term ‘senseless gender ideology’, to my knowledge mentioned here for the first time, is used in the statement to denote ‘something we have witnessed in recent decades,’ thus indicating a known and longstanding social phenomenon. This term has nevertheless remained overshadowed by the exclusive news of the unexpected openness of the traditionally narrow-minded SPC, notoriously towards the human rights of LGBT+ persons.

The term reappeared in mid-2023 through statements made by Porfirije, the patriarch of the SPC headquartered in Belgrade. He criticized the Serbian Law on Gender Equality from 2021 as ‘a violent implementation of so-called gender ideology and policy’ (Danas, 2023). This critique was promptly reported by the media (Vijesti, 2023) in Montenegro on the same day. A similar pattern emerged in January 2024 when his statement about the ‘genderization of the Serbian language’ which he described as a ‘real linguistic massacre’ and ‘unprecedented discrimination against the vast majority of citizens’, was first covered by Serbian media (Nova.rs, 2024) and then, within minutes, by Montenegrin outlets (Vijesti, 2024). The prompt ‘echo effect’ of strategically injected terms ‘gender ideology’ or ‘genderization’ by the clergy of the SPC is by no means accidental. The majority of the population in Montenegro, 72% (Monstat, 2011), declare themselves as followers of the Orthodox Christian faith. However, the canonical Orthodox church in Montenegro is the SPC, not the Montenegrin one. No census question dared recognize this difference in the national prefixes of Orthodox churches, so there are no official data on this issue. Given the SPC’s status as the only canonical Orthodox church in Montenegro, the actions and statements of its supreme leader, especially during major religious holidays, are strategically leveraged to introduce new conceptual receptors for the populist mobilization of the majority, affecting both Serbia and Montenegro. However, as I will demonstrate, this has varying effects on both countries for at least two reasons.

Despite the predominantly patriarchal and traditional character of Montenegrin society, the enactment of gender-related and anti-discrimination laws has not encountered significant obstacles since the independence of Montenegro in 2006. No independent bodies formed in opposition to these laws akin to the Council for the Serbian Language, which protested such laws, particularly the gender-sensitive language in Serbia (see Resanović Urođević and Pudar Draško in this volume). There is also no significant mobilization against it by top academic institutions, such as the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts (Gočanin, 2024). While gender equality and especially the protection of the rights of the LGBT + population have never been a real political priority for most political parties in Montenegro, these issues have remained a necessary condition in the EU accession process. Thus, a series of anti-discrimination laws were adopted without significant opposition, primarily the Law on Gender Equality (2007), the Anti-discrimination Law (2010), and the Law on the Protector of Human Rights and Freedoms (2011). The adoption of the Law on Life Partnership of Persons of the Same Sex (2020), although secured by a slim majority in the Montenegrin parliament (42/81), also did not face institutional obstructions. It did not cause coalition breakdowns or protests on the streets, although Serbian parties in the Montenegrin parliament, as well as parties representing minority ethnic groups (Albanian and Croatian), opposed the adoption of this law and voted against it.

Secondly, the SPC as the main generator of aversion towards gender and gender-related issues in Montenegro and Serbia has different priorities in these two countries. In Serbia, there is no need to enlarge and consolidate the Serbian national corpus, as according to the latest census 80% of Serbia’s citizens identify as Serbs (Republički zavod za statistiku, 2023). On the other hand, in Montenegro, 45% of the population identifies as Montenegrins and 29% as Serbs, while 36.97% of the population declared themselves speaking the Montenegrin language, and 42.88% Serbian (Monstat, 2011). For this reason, gender issues and gender-related problems are generally not at the forefront of the local right-wing actors, who tend to be pro-Serbian and pro-Russian. Instead, the emphasis is given to the question of nationhood, along with its associated religion and language, given that the deepest division in Montenegrin society is the national one. For this reason, ‘gender’ has never had the necessary importance and mobilizing power to function as a ‘symbolic glue’ (Kovats & Põim, 2015) for the populist right, as its supreme priority, without competition, has been the enlargement and consolidation of the Serbian national corpus in Montenegro.

The interconnected dynamics of nation and religion in the Orthodox world have continuously destabilized and polarized Montenegrin society at least since the creation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes in 1918. At the time, Montenegro was forcibly annexed to Serbia and became one of its territorial units within the newly formed kingdom. A significant part of the Montenegrin population could never reconcile with the act of the violent annexation of Montenegro, nor with the denial of its own national identity by Serbia. After the period of socialism during which Montenegro regained a significant portion of its sovereignty as one of the six constituent Yugoslav republics, this cardinal division resurfaced before and during the wars in the territory of former Yugoslavia from 1991 to 1999.

During the Anti-bureaucratic revolution in 1988/89, the leadership of the League of Communists of Montenegro (SKCG) was dismissed, and the ‘young lions, handsome and smart’ (Maričić, 2024), the youth vanguards of supposedly reformist forces within the SKCG, took power. They loomed in the frenzy of the Yugoslav wars, rallying in solidarity with the Serbian and Montenegrin people in Kosovo, only to later fully and openly align themselves with Slobodan Milošević’s project, which resulted in the dissolution of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY).

With the onset of wars in 1991, the SKCG changed its name to the Democratic Party of Socialists (DPS), a name it has retained to this day. Throughout the wars in former Yugoslavia, the official and majority stance of Montenegro, then in a state union with Serbia, was aligned with the realization of Milošević’s project of ‘Greater Serbia’,¹ a concept ideologically underpinned by the Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts (SANU) and further strengthened by the support of the increasingly powerful SPC, particularly through its diocese in Montenegro, the Metropolitanate of Montenegro and the Littoral, led by Amfilohije Radović from 1990 onwards. He was one of the most fervent and aggressive proponents of the Serbian-Montenegrin identitarian unity. Serbia and Montenegro remained in a joint state, the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia,² which spent four years (1992–1996) under UN sanctions due to its involvement in the wars in Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia. This period not only devastated its economy, but also led to a proliferation of self-victimization, anti-Western, conspiracy, and isolationist narratives vigorously propagated by the SPC.

Montenegrin society, during and in response to the wars within the territory of the SFRY in the 1990s, became deeply divided and polarized, resulting in a kind of institutional parallelism, especially in the fields of science and culture. Starting in the early 1990s, Montenegrin counterparts to existing (pro-Serbian) institutions of science and culture began to be established.³ Although somewhat similar, the situation with the Orthodox Church in Montenegro was much more complex and problematic.

The split within the top ranks of the ruling DPS was settled in favour of the faction led by Milo Đukanović, leading to a divergence from its former political and ideological mentor, Milošević. In the presidential elections of 1997, Đukanović narrowly defeated his former close ally (Momir Bulatović), with explicit support from Amfilohije, thereby initiating a clear shift in the ideological and (geo)political orientation of Montenegro. By 2001, the Montenegrin leadership radically redirected its political course, fully embracing the independence agenda advocated by Montenegrin sovereigntists during the war—and as an opposition to the war—despite the same government previously branding them as ‘domestic traitors’. This shift culminated in the restoration of the Montenegrin statehood through the narrow victory in the 2006 referendum.⁴ The potential violent implications of this move were mitigated by Amfilohije himself, who quickly acknowledged and welcomed the referendum results, although he had previously campaigned for the preservation of the union with Serbia. The appropriation of the sovereigntist agenda, as well as the winning over of the voters who supported it, represented the only way for Đukanović to maintain the political and economic monopoly that he could not develop to the same extent in a state union with Serbia. His three decades in power were, in part, enabled by the effective and deliberate use of the powerful mobilization potential that the SPC had accumulated since the late 1980s in the territory of the former smallest Yugoslav republic.

The lack of national unity within the largest denomination and the inconsistent nature of the warm-cold relations between the DPS and the SPC were one of the most powerful barriers to the church’s influence penetrating state institutions and policies, and, as I will show, a specific reason for the absence of anti-gender mobilization in Montenegro. Although increasingly weary and unconvincing, the decades-long socio-political tango between the DPS and the SPC, undoubtedly driven by mutual interests, finally collapsed after Đukanović’s several attempts to influence internal church matters. The breaking point was the adoption of the Law on Freedom of Religion of Belief and the Legal Position of Religious Communities in late 2019. This was accompanied by tensions, the arrest of 18 members of the Montenegrin parliament, and then street protests in the form of religious processions—the so-called litije (litany processions). Under the slogan ‘Ne damo svetinje’ (‘We won’t give up shrines’), thousands of opponents of this law took to the streets in evening processions. They were led by Orthodox priests in numerous Montenegrin cities and towns after religious ceremonies in churches. The litije began on the last day of 2019, four days after the adoption of the law, and lasted—with some interruptions—until the victory of the opposition in the parliamentary election at the end of August 2020. The first government without the DPS was formed under the direct influence of the SPC. Its formation was negotiated—without the participation of any women—in the Monastery of St. Basil of Ostrog. Just a few months later, Amfilohije passed away following complications caused by the coronavirus, but the domino effect of opposition victories continued. The DPS lost power in the local elections of 2022 and in the presidential election of 2023.

The litije served as a kind of ‘shock therapy,’ breaking through previously existing barriers and initiating an intense normalization of the SPC’s involvement in all relevant socio-political issues in Montenegro. This led to a widespread infusion of its conservative views into all areas of life, aligning with a strategic approach towards Serbia within the context of the so-called ‘Serbian world’. This concept is a redesigned ideological project of ‘Greater Serbia’, whose promotion began in 2020. The transformation of the name itself—from the name of an imagined future state (‘Greater Serbia’) to a metaphor for a worldview (‘Serbian world’) —indicates a deliberately muted and softened, yet still present territorial aspect of this project. The concept of the ‘Serbian world’ is constructed according to the Russian pattern, following the model of the ‘Russian world’ (Русский мир), of which it is actually an integral part. The connection with Russia was often emphasized by Amfilohije himself.

At the beginning of the war and the Russian invasion of Ukraine, the new metropolitan Joanikije, who was enthroned after Amfilohije’s death in 2020 under conditions of significant security risks and violent clashes between demonstrators and the police, threateningly emphasized parallels between Russia and Serbia, and Ukraine and Montenegro. He suggested that Montenegro was ‘designed to be a small Ukraine’ (Radio Slobodna Evropa, 2022). The SPC remains the main conduit for Serbian and Russian influence in Montenegro, characterized by rhetoric that oscillates between two narratives—strategic intimidation by Serbia and Russia and inspired idealization of the fundamental brotherhood with them.

The litije brought tens of thousands of people to the streets of Montenegro. No previous protest against the ruling DPS had been as massive or long-lasting. The supporters of these processions labelled them as a ‘broad, civic emancipatory movement’ that ‘consensually brought together disenfranchized citizens’ and represented ‘the first mass, authentic movement aimed at strengthening secular and civic society in Montenegro’ (Milatović & Perović, 2022), a view shared by figures such as Gojko Perović, the former rector of the Cetinje Theological Seminary. Conversely, the Serbian historian Milivoj Bešlin (2020) criticized these events as ‘pseudolitije’, arguing that real processions ‘are always in the service of some religious, magical ritual, (while) here it’s about a political demonstration.’ Bešlin emphasizes that ‘pseudo-processions’ are a classic political and ideological battle over the interpretation of Montenegro, the ‘management’ of its identity politics, and the fate of its statehood, framing it as a choice between modernity (aligned with development, enlightenment, and Europe) and anachronism (associated with underdevelopment, dogmatism, and Serbia and Russia).

The varied receptions of this social phenomenon do not change the fact that the organization of processions brought distinct religious and archaic dimensions to Montenegrin public space. This was seen through an unprecedented infusion of ritualism and iconography, including the emergence of a new form of association within the civil sector –Orthodox Brotherhoods.⁵ These organizations present themselves as the guardians of Serbianhood and Orthodoxy, emphasizing that the primary focus of their activities is humanitarian work in the spirit of faith. In almost every public address they emphasize that they ‘help all people in need, regardless of faith and nationality’ (Pravoslavno n.d.). Men and women belonging to these brotherhoods are uniformly dressed in black shirts with large emblems of their respective organizations, and they are known to use three joined fingers of the right hand as a greeting gesture. Their public communications often feature archaic church expressions and phrases, and they use Cyrillic fonts similar to the Miroslav type⁶ for their banners, posters, or billboards. These brotherhoods make public appearance in three types of situations: through the promotion of their humanitarian work (Jovanović, 2022); as a ‘self-proclaimed guards in the temples of the Metropolitanate of Montenegro and the Littoral’ (Vijesti, 2022b); (Vijesti, 2022c) and at protests where songs (Noseći, 2022) containing hate speech can be heard, or banners displayed denying genocide in Srebrenica (Pobjeda, 2021a).

Commenting on the controversial research⁷ conducted by the Balkan Investigative Reporting Network (BIRN, 2022), in which the Orthodox Brotherhood of Stupovi was identified as one of the far-right organizations in Montenegro, their response (Bratstvo Stupovi, 2022) highlighted the following:

If we were perceived as extremists because we engaged in humanitarian work as an Orthodox brotherhood, the problem is not with us but with those who recognize extremism in the terms ‘Orthodox’ and ‘brotherhood’. In that case, it seems to us that extremism emanates from the one who identified our organization as extremist.

A similar statement was posted on his Facebook by Feđa Dimović, one of the three members of the group ‘Beogradski sindikat’ who were not allowed entry into Montenegro to receive the award from Amfilohije. Dimović (2020) emphasized how he was ‘extremely sorry and unclear as to why they were declared a threat to Montenegro’s national security.’

Clearly, the connection between the territorial claims contained in the songs and threats to national security, as well as the denial of genocide, hate speech, and right-wing extremism, remained ‘unclear’. This soft-spoken passive-aggressive narrative also characterizes the rhetoric that some SPC priests later used in the debates about abortion in Montenegro. Since the role of the SPC in the political life of modern Montenegro has never been greater, it was inevitable that even its views on issues of ‘secondary importance’—such as bodily autonomy, family, marriage, or language—would spill over as topics into the Montenegrin public discourse.

Although the wars in former Yugoslavia led to a process of the re-patriarchalization of society, largely directed by traditional religious communities, Montenegro diverged from its neighbours by not formalizing these shifts in policies. There were no official initiatives to restrict women’s sexual and reproductive rights, including any restrictions or decreased access to abortion rights,⁸ nor did religious education⁹ penetrate the formal education system. As mentioned earlier, anti-discrimination legislation has been adopted, marking a progressive shift in the legal framework¹⁰ of women’s rights and LGBT + rights from the late 1990s to the present. In Montenegro, it is still possible to ‘operate under the assumption of progress’ (Graff & Korolczuk, 2022), despite the progress being slow or sometimes superficial.

Although the discourse on ‘gender ideology’ has not (yet) taken hold in the local context and ‘gender’ has not been the nexus of populist right-wing mobilization, nor are there any organizations explicitly mobilizing against gender equality in Montenegro at this moment, there is something simmering beneath the surface. In addition to the evident interest shown by Serbian SPC clergy and right-wing parties in maintaining traditional heteronormative family structures and ‘traditional values’, along with their involvement in discussions regarding bodily autonomy and sexual and reproductive rights of women, and educational policies in the country, there are also discreet signs of something potentially new emerging. This includes the formation of new political parties, the introduction of new rhetoric, and the development of new methods for international networking and organizing at the transnational level.

The initial indications of anti-gender mobilization, reflecting the transnational nature of anti-gender discourses and strategies, emerged in 2018 with the appearance of a new pro-Serbian and pro-Russian party called ‘Prava Crna Gora’ (True Montenegro) on the Montenegrin political scene. This party launched its campaign ahead of local elections in the capital with the slogan ‘Let Podgorica be a family’, advocating for traditional family values. Historically, traditional family values have not been a potent mobilizing force or a priority topic in election campaigns in Montenegro. On the contrary, ‘traditional values’ in the Montenegrin context are practically an empty signifier with their meaning shaped by the ideological context of their proponents. For some parties, the fundamental traditional value is antifascism (RTCG, 2020), for others it is ‘healthy family, healthy society, healthy country’ (Mondo, 2008).

At the presentation of the new party, its president, Marko Milačić (Vijesti, 2018a), said that the time has come for:

modern patriotism and civilized nationalism. The spirit of ancestors for the 21st century. We will call ourselves True Montenegro because we do not accept Montenegro as it is today, predominantly false and forged. […] We do not agree to a state where the majority identity is violated and the same Orthodox people are divided. We do not accept Montenegro where the language is deliberately destroyed, where the canonical church is systematically torn apart. We do not accept an anti-Serbian and anti-Russian Montenegro.

At the same time, with the obligation to preserve the Serbian language, Milačić (Vijesti, 2017) argues, ‘we must look after the canonical Serbian Orthodox Church, after family, tradition, identity, and all that in the best manner of civic politics, of civil Montenegro.’

Milačić (Vijesti, 2018b) justified his decision to run in the presidential election in 2018 by stating that ‘the government has been working for decades to destroy the family as the true pillar of society.’ He later clarified what he referred to as ‘destruction’ during his presidential campaign, spotlighting issues concerning LGBT + rights and abortion rights. At that time, he argued that the adoption of the Law on Same-Sex Partnerships, which provides for same-sex couples to jointly care for the children¹¹ of one partner if they exist, ‘would lead to a new destruction of the healthy family.’ On the same occasion, he also declared that he would fight for ‘the maximum protection of the prenatal life of the child by restricting abortion rights’ (Vijesti, 2018c). Although all the parties of national minorities, as well as the entire traditional pro-Serbian right, are unanimously against LGBT + rights, this marked the first instance of a party shaping its policy and election campaign around the objective to restrict women’s sexual and reproductive rights.

Despite True Montenegro losing its mandate in the 2018 local elections, the party succeeded in securing a position in Podgorica’s city government in the 2022 local elections. From this position of power, they sought to curtail LGBT + rights locally. They proposed reallocating the funds designated for LGBT + work to other services, arguing that favouring one social group led to an unjust discrimination against other groups, which, because of certain identity traits, were not entitled to budget subsidies from the capital city (Kalač, 2023a).

Human rights reports have identified LGBT + individuals as particularly vulnerable within Montenegrin society,¹² with their situation often worsened by hate speech from the SPC. This discourse isn’t limited to verbal attacks; it extends into the argumentative frameworks that echo transnational anti-gender campaigns, which frame gender issues as a promotion of hedonism and individualism, pitting ‘corrupt elites’ against ‘the people’ and likening gender to a totalitarian ideology (Kuhar & Paternotte, 2017).

Montenegro’s first Pride event in Budva in 2013 was marked by violence and heavy police security (Vukićević, 2013). Preceding this, obituaries targeting the organizer Zdravko Cimbaljević appeared, signalling the start of a bitter opposition (Lajović, 2013). Subsequent Pride events, such as ‘Montenegro proudly’ in Podgorica (Tomović, 2013), continued under severe criticism from religious leaders, with the then Metropolitan Amfilohije denouncing them as ‘Parades of Shame’ (Jovićević, 2013) and continuing his attacks during Christmas his messages. He decried the events as against church teachings and societal norms. His successor, Joanikije, perpetuated this narrative, exemplified by his prayer service before the 10th Montenegro Pride, criticizing ‘immorality and debauchery’ (Martinović, 2022).

SPC clergy may not directly affect public policies, but their advocates, especially those positioned in key ministries, are making significant strides. The latest strategy involves the state collaborating with the church in socially sensitive areas as declared by the Deputy Prime Minister (Vijesti, 2024), discussing support for the church’s social and charitable institutions. This shift towards state support for church-run institutions under the pretext of humanitarianism is creating opportunities for the SPC to extend its influence in Montenegro’s modern history, often facing little opposition. A notable instance of this is its involvement in reproductive rights and the recent abortion debate in Montenegro, which appears to offer significant potential for more explicit anti-gender campaigns to emerge in the country.

Abortion was protected as a constitutional right in former Yugoslavia as early as 1974, with further regulations established by republic-level laws in 1978. However, during the period from 1991 to 2006, when Montenegro was part of different state formations, abortion lost its constitutional protection. It was not protected by the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, nor under the Constitutional Charter of the State Union of Serbia and Montenegro. This latter document defined the realization of human and minority rights and freedoms through a separate Charter on Human and Minority Rights and Freedoms, which also did not safeguard abortion rights. Today, abortion on demand is legal and accessible in Montenegro, but this protection exists at the level of specific laws, rather than the Constitution (see also Vučković Juroš and Gergorić in this volume).

The public debate on the right to abortion was initiated in mid-2022, when the public broadcaster, Radio and Television of Montenegro (RTCG), organized a prime-time talk show called ‘Naglas’ (Out Loud) on the topic of abortion (Marković, 2022). The show’s title underwent several changes before airing, indicating the editorial team’s uncertainty about the topic, which was approached without adequate thoughtfulness or preparation. Initially advertised as ‘Abortion—a women’s, state, or church matter’, it was renamed twice on the day of the broadcast: first as ‘The right to abortion—YES or NO?’ and then as ‘Abortion—from a constitutional right to a taboo topic?’¹³ These indecisions over the title highlight the editorial team’s hesitance and the risks involved in broaching the topic of abortion in Montenegrin public discourse.

The decision to cover this topic was justified by the need to highlight global developments regarding abortion rights, notably the anticipated reversal of the Roe vs. Wade ruling in the United States and the case of Mirela Čavajda in Croatia.¹⁴ However, the selection of guests, who included a priest from the Serbian Orthodox Church alongside two gynaecologists and a feminist activist, sparked controversy and public interest, leading to protests¹⁵ outside the RTCG building prior to the show’s broadcast.

It is important to emphasize that discussions on issues such as women’s bodily autonomy, which is a legally protected right, are not a common occurrence in Montenegrin public broadcasting. On the contrary, this broadcast represented a milestone that revived what was deemed settled and closed back in 1974 regarding the right to decide on childbirth. In their study on anti-family narratives in Montenegro, Bobičić and Ulićević (2023) consider it an important event, underscoring its impact and the revival of discourse on abortion rights in Montenegro.

It is important to outline in broad strokes the specific social circumstances in which the issue of abortion resurfaced, as the broadcast was not an isolated event that brought the issue of abortion into the spotlight of public interest. Over a month before the broadcast, Jakov Milatović, then the Minister of Economic Development and now the President of Montenegro, announced populist measures at a press conference titled ‘Response to the demographic crisis’.¹⁶ Later that evening, he met with Metropolitan Joanikije to discuss additional measures that the government would take to boost natality. ‘Religious communities are strong partners on this path,’ Milatović tweeted (Vijesti, 2022a). By emphasizing religious communities as relevant participants in shaping the state’s demographic policy, Milatović sent a strong message of encouragement to the SPC to engage in the debate on sexual and reproductive rights, which was further reinforced by the RTCG’s invitation to a clergy member to participate in a TV programme on this topic.

Prior to the broadcast, Metropolitan Joanikije voiced his support for the initiative of the US Supreme Court, restating his belief that ‘intentional termination of pregnancy at any stage is a terrible sin directly contrary to God’s commandment to procreate.’ He also emphasized that ‘we accept every initiative to protect unborn children, especially this one from the Supreme Court of America, as humane, salvific, and divine’ (Krgović, 2022). The daily newspaper Dan, known for its inclination towards the SPC and Serbian right-wing parties in Montenegro, seized the opportunity to recall the ‘anthological’ statements of the former metropolitan Amfilohije, who had declared that abortion represents ‘infanticide, homicide, Christocide, and deicide’, and that it is ‘not a coincidence’ that this right was ‘legalized during the atheization of humanity’, that is in the socialist era, nor is it ‘surprising that during those same times, Mother’s Day was replaced by celebrating ‘women’ (International Women’s Day) in general, which is something impersonal. The womb of a woman is created to be a workshop of life. By killing conceived children, a mother’s womb is transformed into a workshop of death’ (italics mine). This last statement echoes the distinction between the ‘culture of life’ and the ‘culture of death’ elaborated by Pope John Paul II in the encyclical Evangelium Vitae in 1995 (John Paul II, 1995).

Around the same time, an article (Novović, 2022) was published on the RTCG website, focusing on what is described as the biggest issue concerning abortion in Montenegro: the misuse of abortion rights through selective abortions. This practice involves prenatal sex selection in favour of the male population. This has been recognized as a problem in Montenegro, even drawing concerns from the Council of Europe. In 2012, the Council requested an investigation into selective abortions in Montenegro, citing alarming gender imbalance data among newborns (110 boys to 100 girls), based on data from the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA, 2012). Although abortion for the purpose of sex selection is prohibited by law,¹⁷ selective abortions continue to be a reality (Pobjeda 2021b) in Montenegro, turning the right to bodily autonomy into its opposite. The writer and publicist Andrej Nikolaidis commented on this issue:

It’s a product of an ultra-conservative patriarchal matrix that, by its ideological practical code, is against abortion, except when a female child needs to be aborted. In that case, abortion is allowed. Montenegrin conservatism becomes surprisingly liberal when it comes to providing male offspring. (Šćepanović, 2019)

In response to the ‘prenatal discrimination’, the NGO Centre for Women’s Rights in Podgorica, in collaboration with the McCann agency, launched the ‘Unwanted’ campaign in 2017. The campaign featured a poster designed to resemble a pink obituary with a photo of a girl with pigtails but without a face. Accompanying this image was an emotional text addressed to the unwanted girl on behalf of Montenegro, expressing regret for her non-existence due to her parents’ preference for a boy:

Your parents wanted a boy, so you didn’t get the chance to be born. Forgive them. Your grieving Montenegro.

Below the poster were pink candles stuck in the sand, unmistakably evoking the church context of mourning for the dead. The emotional impact was further heightened by the speech of an actress who had initiated the action, speaking from the perspective of an unwanted and unborn girl:

I could have been Iva, Maja, Sanja, or Milena. Teodora, Aleksandra, Jelena, Milica... but I will never have the chance to be called by such beautiful names. I’m just Unwanted. My parents didn’t want me. I’m not angry with them, and I know I would have loved them endlessly if they had given me a chance. Unwanted – that’s the name of many girls in our Montenegro. Some parents prefer boys, so girls often don’t get the chance to be born. (Šćepanović, 2017)

However, exploiting the emotionally charged voices of aborted girls proved to be a double-edged sword that, paradoxically, posed a threat against abortion rights in general. Specifically, in exploiting the sentiments aroused by the suffering of innocent children, victims of adult selfishness and cruelty, traditional institutions like the church navigate these waters much better than NGOs and marketing agencies. This was demonstrated by the conclusion of priest Perović in the RTCG show, responding to the host’s question—Is abortion a sin? He stated:

If our abortion law was more restrictive, sadly, Montenegro would not be a black hole in the universe (in terms of selective abortions). (Marković, 2022)

Perović concluded his appearance by suggesting that a poster for an unborn boy should also be placed alongside the poster for the unborn girl, thereby shifting the focus from the issue of prenatal gender discrimination manifested in the practice of selective abortions to the issue of abortion in general. Although the practice of selective abortions¹⁸ was predominantly viewed as a result of the patriarchal backwardness in a country where sons are more valued and therefore more desired than daughters, Brković (2021) highlighted that the campaign shedding light on this issue also triggered ‘responses from various misogynistic voices that equated foetuses with children and were inclined to use the same language to attack women’s right to legal and widely accessible abortion’ (Brković, 2021, 36). Bobičić and Ulićević draw a similar conclusion claiming that ‘there is a kind of misuse of the Centre for Women’s Rights campaign, which is a vivid example of the right-wing attempt to co-opt actions conceived with progressive intentions’ (Bobičić & Ulićević, 2023, 98).

Given that Perović uses language that is atypical for the priests of the SPC in Montenegro, there is rather a complex and specific difference in discourse between Perović, who is also a columnist for the country’s most popular news website, and his older colleagues, such as Metropolitan Amfilohije or Joanikije, or even the slightly older Patriarch Porfirije. While the older generation often employed archaic, ‘prophetic’ language of the Church,¹⁹ which often included uncensored hate speech, offensive terms, and severe curses, the new discourse has been strategically measured and polished, largely devoid of harsh words or offensive formulations. When discussing traditional and restrictive viewpoints on topics such as women’s bodily autonomy, Perović frames his arguments around freedom of thought and conscience, democratic procedures, nonviolent resistance to injustice and violence, all the while co-opting the language of human rights, a strategy commonly observed in anti-gender mobilizations. Perović very deliberately emphasizes that the majority of the population is religious, highlighting the right of the religious population to exercise freedom of speech and express their views:

If we pass a law through democratic procedures, we are no longer prisoners of some priests or a church from the Middle Ages that looks at us with dark eyes and wants to abolish our freedoms. Democratic procedures are implemented in a democratic civic society. The citizens of this country are predominantly people of faith. (Marković, 2022)

Bobičić and Ulićević (2023, 98) identify the infiltration of anti-gender actors into democratic institutions as one of the key methods of advancing their anti-gender agenda. Democratic values can be jeopardized by democratic procedures.

The ‘infiltration’ is exemplified by the fact that Dr Šimun, a gynaecologist who participated in the RCTG broadcast about abortion, became the Minister of Health just a year and a half later. The ministry under his leadership quickly enacted a set of regulations regulating access to medically assisted reproduction that explicitly discriminate against LGBT + individuals, stipulating that ‘gametes cannot be donated by individuals who have had homosexual relations in the last five years’ (Kalač, 2023b). In addition to the broadcast serving as a gateway through which the issue of abortion returned to media and public discourse, it also served as a platform to introduce and legitimize potential allies in implementing the conservative agenda of the new political majority, subsequently placing them in key positions for making political decisions in line with the church’s ideology.

Perović’s seemingly moderated discourse does not alter the core of this ideology. During the RCTG broadcast, he praised the ‘Mother Courage’—Jelena Trikić from Drvar, who, at the cost of her own life, carried her pregnancy to term and died shortly after giving birth (Rajčetić, 2022). Perović stated: ‘Little Nikola is alive and a witness that his life in the womb of his mother and the life of that woman were not the same reality’ (italics mine). Claiming this, he pointed out that ‘the views of us priests often tend to be based on indisputable scientific assumptions.’ He then engaged in a ‘scientific’ explanation of these ‘different realities’, which he summarized as follows: ‘The embryo is genetically different from the mother, usually having a different blood type, and if it’s male, it also has different chromosomes.’ Since the gynaecologists in the studio, Šimun and Ćorić, had no objections or comments on the medical vignette provided by the priest, he concluded: ‘Not everything in the woman’s body is hers, especially not during pregnancy […] It is another life, not a part of the woman’s body, whom I exceptionally value and respect’ (Marković, 2022). However, regardless of how refined and polished this new rhetoric may be, the underlying position remains unchanged—despite his proclaimed ‘value and respect’ for women, he still fails to recognize their bodily autonomy (Petričević, 2024).

In the context of the abortion debate, another new practice emerged that has gone largely unnoticed by the Montenegrin media, yet it fits into the modus operandi of transnational anti-gender mobilization, or the ‘counter-international’ as referred to by Bobičić and Ulićević (2023, 69). Since 2021, Jovan Plamenac,²⁰ a controversial Orthodox priest from Bar, has continuously participated in conferences dedicated to the demographic crisis. These events are organized by international networks with distinct anti-gender stances, such as the Pro-life network or the Alliance for Life network.²¹ These conferences serve as incubators and nurseries for the concepts, arguments, and strategies of the anti-gender movement worldwide. Plamenac has presented at conferences of the Alliance for Life in Vršac (2021), Srebrno Jezero (2022), both in Serbia, as well as at the major conference of the Pro-life network in Belgrade (2023), where the so called ‘Universal Declaration of Children’s Rights Worldwide 2023—The Belgrade Declaration’ was adopted. This declaration equates the embryo from the moment of conception with a child and stipulates in Article 4:

The laws of every country must ensure that the killing of a child, including those in the womb, is treated with the same gravity and legal consequences as the killing of an adult. This provision shall apply without exception, in order to ensure the equal protection of the right to life for all children (Pro-life Worldwide Declaration, 2023).

While only a few media outlets in Serbia reported on this summit,²² there was no mention of it in Montenegro. The lack of visibility is worrying, almost like a deliberately created smokescreen meant to conceal the growth of anti-gender mobilizations in Montenegro until they strengthen and become firmly established. These movements draw on successful strategies from abroad, utilizing existing conservative infrastructure and, if necessary, building new one.

Since 2022, the issue of abortion in Montenegro has not been further emphasized or problematized, nor has there been any formal initiative to repeal or restrict this right or to complicate procedures. However, the manner in which the issue of abortion has been addressed in Montenegrin public discourse and the way the right to conscientious objection has been interpreted leave room for numerous concerns regarding the accessibility and realization of this right in the future. Additionally, the continuous and entirely unreported participation of Orthodox priests in anti-gender events in the region, along with the proliferation of Orthodox brotherhoods in Montenegro, provide a solid base upon which anti-gender campaigns can build their future growth and development.

The fact that gender and gender policies have not yet been central to the neoconservative agenda in Montenegro, which was primarily focused on strengthening and defending Serbian and Russian influence in the country, does not guarantee they will remain peripheral in the future. Gender has been, and for now remains, collateral. It is a secondary issue in the broader conflicts, challenges, and realignments over identity and geopolitics. However, the troubling signs of the church’s growing influence, which can be traced back to 2020, are extremely alarming. It is clear what attitude towards gender, gender equality, or ‘gender ideology’ can be expected in a more extensive transposition of the ideological agenda of the SPC into the Montenegrin context.

Even though Kuhar and Paternotte (2017) highlighted that the discourse on ‘gender ideology’ was formulated around the new millennium in the Vatican, it took a decade for these ideas to spread from the Vatican to the majority of European countries, with protests becoming widespread around 2012–2013. Ten years later, the question arises whether Montenegro should wait for a stronger articulation of anti-gender narratives and even more visible actions by its protagonists, or take proactive measures now?

Experiences from the region—with the Law on gender equality in Serbia, or the Law on legal gender recognition in North Macedonia—show how swift, effective, and devastating the influence of the church on gender equality can be. Recent developments in Montenegrin public debates, regulations, and policies on abortion, medically assisted reproduction, and most recently on the adoption of the law on legal gender recognition based on self-determination, clearly demonstrate how anti-gender sentiments can rapidly enter mainstream discourse. The SPC’s involvement in these debates not only highlights its commitment to traditional values but also signals a potential turning point where gender and reproductive rights become central to its agenda. It seems clear that the stage has been set for a gender backlash propelled by neoconservative forces and led by the SPC.

This chapter attempted to shed light on the actors, their modes of action, interconnections, and organizational methods, as well as the discourses and strategies they share with the transnational anti-gender movement, in order to prevent being caught off guard by something that could, and perhaps should, have been expected, despite the fact that comparable experiences in the region do not give much reason for optimism.