Non-paper poker: Bosnia Edition!

A luxurious diplomatic lounge somewhere in Brussels. A huge table covered with maps of the Balkans, decks of cards, non-papers, folders marked "Top Secret", champagne, whiskey, and dry biscuits.

On the wall, a map of Europe, and in the corner, a globe from '85.
…

By: Rasim Belko @rasimbelko

Nothing new in the Balkans — except that in the diplomatic lounges of Europe, magic papers, popularly known as non-papers, are occasionally pulled out of closets. These anonymous documents, which supposedly no one wrote but everyone has in their drawer, try to "solve the issue of Bosnia and Herzegovina" every now and then.

And as it usually happens — Europe again thinks that with bureaucratic language, colorful maps, and administrative districts, it will reconcile three peoples, two entities, five cantons, global interests, and local shamans.

Brussels is trying as if drawing new lines on a cake on paper that no one wants to taste anymore. EU diplomats, like bad card players with crooked cards, persistently believe that one non-paper will solve 30 years of Balkan improvisation.

At the same time, while Europe naively stirs tea and rustles papers, more serious players are discreetly laughing. Great Britain, the old colonial school, sits at another table, with a whiskey in hand and much stronger cards in their pocket. They never left the game — they just let others stumble over bureaucratic traps. And then they step in and do as they always planned.

America, with a cowboy smile, plays a similar game. They have the strongest cards, pre-arranged moves with several leaders, three ministers, and a few local opportunists. When Europe offers special status, Americans throw four aces on the table and immediately order a NATO base.

Russia, as a constant Balkan whisperer from the sidelines, reads every non-paper, takes what it needs, throws the rest to Dodik, and leaves some for the archive in Moscow. They don't need cards, it's enough for them to know what others hold in their hands.

China? It doesn't interfere too much. It doesn't matter to them as long as they can occasionally buy a port, highway, or power utility. When the show is over, the Chinese come with suitcases and negotiate tenders.

Finally, on the other side of the hall, Islamic countries sit at a separate table, sipping champagne (halal, if possible) and observing wisely. The less they interfere, the more they are invited to gala dinners and international forums on stability that no one plans to achieve.

And so, while Europe persistently draws new maps, sends new envoys, and compiles new non-papers, the Balkans remain what it has always been — a playground for others' games, a place where cards are dealt by those who have never played a fair game.

Only one thing is certain: every non-paper ends the same way — in a drawer, while key moves are made far from Brussels.

Now, the latest non-paper arrives on the scene, as the culmination of all previous ones. A document without a signature, responsibility, or courage, but with great ambitions. It arrives precisely at a time when the diplomatic globe is preparing to discuss the three decades of the Dayton Peace Agreement again. Three decades in which they failed to move Bosnia and Herzegovina even a millimeter from the war line, but they did move chairs, mandates, and daily allowances.

Because in the Balkans, it is always easier to change paper than reality.

And so it will remain as long as non-papers serve for diplomatic self-service, not for serious solutions. While Europe writes, the British drink whiskey, Americans dictate, Russians whisper, and Chinese buy. And Bosnia? It still waits for someone to bring it a paper with a seal — even if it's just ordinary humanity. Because, until now, it has all been the fog of geopolitical bluffers…

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Darkness, the lights are off, and the British laughter at Brussels poker noobs can still be heard!