A Speech by Professor Sead Šemsović on the Occassion of Commemorating 100 Years of Alija Izetbegović 

Sarajevo National Theatre, October 17, 2025

“Reading Alija Izetbegović Today”

Dear Sirs and Madams,

My introduction to Alija Izetbegović came indirectly, through his works. In 2004, as part of the Collected Works project, I was responsible for compiling a bibliography of texts and books in Bosnian and their translations into other languages. This research required me to examine not only where the works had been published but also their content in depth.

The works span a wide range of fields—law, political science, philosophy, pedagogy, religious studies, literature, and the arts—so a solid grounding in these disciplines was essential. As a postgraduate in the literature of the peoples of Bosnia and Herzegovina, I already had some of this background, but engaging with this corpus demanded considerably more. The research required a delicate balance: to avoid becoming too broad in reviewing referenced literature, while ensuring the analysis was thorough rather than superficial.

The first question that arose concerned the genres of Izetbegović’s works—how they should be classified and where they fit within the broad spectrum of literary forms. They are not strictly academic, yet neither are they entirely non-academic publications. The author is both objective and, at times, subjective, concluding while occasionally referencing specific literature. Therefore, the genre could only be defined as a unique form of essay, more precisely, a philosophical-religious-political essay. In fact, Izetbegović’s seminal works—The Islamic Declaration, Islam Between East and West, and My Escape to Freedom—fit perfectly within this unusual genre classification.

The second question concerned the socio-political context in which these works were created and read. This included the secrecy under the rigid communist regime (The Islamic Declaration, Islam Between East and West), and the secret, semi-public, and public writing of notebooks behind prison walls (the collection of notes titled My Escape to Freedom). Both the circumstances of their creation and the contexts in which they were read are well known to us, making the process of Alija Izetbegović’s personal and intellectual development clear and understandable.

The third question concerns how we approach these works today. Unlike those who once received The Islamic Declaration from a trusted person for a brief period—reading it as much as possible before returning it—we now have access to it freely, in Bosnian and several other languages. How should we read, interpret, and analyse it today, half a century later, in a completely different socio-political context? How should it be presented to our children? How can we explain what aspects of the text might have been controversial at the time? How can we convey the paradox of an era when God was present at home but had to be absent at school? To what extent does the secularisation of knowledge continue to influence us today? And ultimately, what is the relevance and practical value of Izetbegović’s books in our time?

Two possible perspectives emerge for approaching these questions: Izetbegović’s approach to knowledge and self-improvement, and his active engagement with polarities.

Throughout his life, Izetbegović pursued a wide range of intellectual interests, both in science and religious studies. He studied agronomy, worked in construction companies, earned a law degree, and passed the judicial exam. He followed space programmes, kept up with political developments at home and abroad, tracked advances in science and technology, learned foreign languages, studied Islamic dogmatics and philosophy, read Western Orientalists, and analysed chess games. Such a diverse spectrum of interests did not make him a so-called “jack of all trades,” but rather an intellectual who possessed deep knowledge in each of these fields.

He approached each subject from the perspective of a person of faith. Religious terminology or associations need not appear in his sentences, but the perspective from which he viewed the world, questioned and analysed reality, and sought solutions to problems was always and exclusively that of a believing person. This moral standpoint is reflected in every context—whether in his writing, interviews, or public addresses.

It is this integrity that earned him respect both in the East and the West. That respect was reinforced by the circumstances of the aggression against the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina and by Izetbegović’s steadfast efforts to prevent war. It was also evident in his ethical approach to visiting soldiers on the front lines, engaging with them, and encouraging perseverance in the struggle.

In the years following the aggression, his concern for Bosniaks across all regions of the former unified state marked him as a national leader who actively sought solutions to the diverse problems faced by his people in the new circumstances. He personally engaged with Bosniak political and cultural representatives from these countries, consistently acknowledging their contributions to shared ideas and collective efforts.

Another important aspect of reading Izetbegović today concerns treating his books as a determined attempt to outline, even if only in part, a path for Muslim peoples in the world today, in the fifteenth century of the Hijra. To read them in this contemporary context requires unlocking all those points where Izetbegović expressed his concerns and dissatisfaction. His documentation of the reasons for the struggles of Muslim communities over the past centuries necessarily calls for us to define a way forward, which ultimately obliges us to take action aimed at producing a better and more meaningful manifestation of ourselves.

This is particularly evident in the polarisation of knowledge. Several centuries ago, a division occurred between religious and secular disciplines, and we ourselves became split into scholars and religious teachers, neither of whom fully possesses expertise in both domains. Similarly, approaches to religious knowledge became divided—into formalists and philosophers, rationalists and theosophists, or poets and purely analytical thinkers—with no examples of anyone mastering both theoretical knowledge and practical belief.

If we approach these books solely from individual disciplines—philosophy, political science, or religion—we can understand Izetbegović’s position on specific issues, but we will not discover solutions to the broader problems facing our society. Such an analytical approach may illuminate the work and its author, but its practical value would remain limited.

Here, the primary audience is the Bosniak intellectual community, particularly those inclined toward religious, ethnic, or national affiliation and possessing some degree of awareness and understanding. For those who lack these foundations, such guidance and prescriptions are largely ineffective, as secularised knowledge often produces a kind of immunity to collective ideas and fosters hyper-individualism. In this sphere, each intellectual exists as a separate world, colliding with others rather than synchronising with them.

For Bosniaks, every individual who possesses even a minimal awareness of collective values and a sense of responsibility for the collective condition is important. Each person must act as a cog within a shared system of values, contributing to the cohesion and well-being of the community.

In considering how to read Izetbegović today, we must recognise that each of the fractured “marriages” he identified needs to be restored to its proper context. Only through integrated knowledge—theoretical and practical, emotional and analytical, scientific and religious—can we achieve a truly fruitful outcome. In medical terms, Izetbegović carried out the anamnesis and diagnosis; it is now our responsibility to determine the therapy, implement it fully, and oversee its application to ensure the healing of our community.

This need for renewal applies especially to our institutions, many of which remain affected by individual ego, outdated approaches to public engagement—particularly with the media—and a general lack of creativity and inventiveness. As a result, they are often out of step with contemporary realities, weighed down by over-bureaucracy and a fear of anything new or innovative.

Perhaps tonight’s gathering, and Emir Mejremić’s symphonic poem, around which we have come together to mark the centenary of the late President, can be seen as a fresh breeze of change, whether we are prepared for it or not.