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 6ÊÉ;É%+"÷
Tom O’Donoghue
and Simon Clarke

LEADERS AND
LEADERSHIP IN
SERBIAN PRIMARY
SCHOOLS
Perspectives Across
Two Worlds
Leaders and Leadership in Serbian
Primary Schools
 Jelena Raković · Tom O’Donoghue
Simon Clarke

Leaders and
Leadership in Serbian
Primary Schools
Perspectives Across Two Worlds
Jelena Raković Simon Clarke
Graduate School of Education Graduate School of Education
The University of Western Australia The University of Western Australia
Crawley, WA, Australia Perth, WA, Australia

Tom O’Donoghue
Graduate School of Education
The University of Western Australia
Crawley, WA, Australia

ISBN 978-3-030-03528-0 ISBN 978-3-030-03529-7 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-03529-7

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018959734

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature
Switzerland AG 2019
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether
the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse
of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and
transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by
similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt
from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this
book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the
authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein
or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to
jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.

Cover image: © Mik122/Getty

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
 Contents

1 Introduction 1

2 Overview of the Context 21

3 Overview of Related Academic Literature 53

4 Perspectives of Primary School Principals in Serbia on

Societal Changes and Their Relationship to Education
Changes 93

5 Perspectives of Primary School Principals in Serbia on

School Governance 125

6 Perspectives of Primary School Principals in Serbia on

Their Roles and on Their Professional Learning 153

7 Overview, Discussion, and Conclusion 181

v
vi   Contents

References 209

Index 221
 Abbreviations

EU The European Union

IMF International Monetary Fund
NPM New Public Management
OECD The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development
OMC The Open Method of Coordination
SFRY The Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia

vii
 1
Introduction

Introduction
Globalisation of the world economy has led to the globalisation of
knowledge, thus blurring the boundaries between local and national
levels in many education systems, including in Serbia, which has
been in economic regression for some time (Arar, Turan, Barakat, &
Oplatka, 2017). Concurrently, school leadership has been identi-
fied as potentially being a major force in promoting education change
as transnational education policy transfer is taking place, led by such
agencies as the European Union (EU), the Organisation for Economic
Co-operation and Development (OECD), and the World Bank (Hall,
Møller, Schratz, & Serpieri, 2017). However, as these international
organisations are usually concerned primarily with aiming for vibrant
economies, they often promote a culture of training rather than one
of education (White, Cooper, & Anwaruddin, 2017). Consequently,
much contemporary education change is based on ‘new public man-
agement’ (NPM) ideas, including reducing public expenses and
bureaucracy, encouraging competition, promoting marketisation, and
measuring outcomes (Hall et al., 2017).

© The Author(s) 2019 1

J. Raković et al., Leaders and Leadership in Serbian Primary Schools,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-03529-7_1
2   J. Raković et al.

Since the implementation of NPM policies can be influenced by con-

textual factors, the theory and practice of leadership and management
of education are frequently socially constructed and contextually bound
(Hall et al., 2017). Nevertheless, education leaders, especially those in
developing countries and in countries that have been experiencing eco-
nomic regression, often try to address both local and global education
pressures, contested political ideas, complex developing contexts, and
matters associated with social justice and equity (Arar et al., 2017). For
some, their approach has been influenced by the argument that educa-
tion at the primary school level can enable individuals to improve their
economic circumstances by strengthening social and cultural capital,
and promoting democracy, social justice, human rights and tolerance
(Dahiru, Pihie, Basri, & Hassan, 2017). However, challenges they may
face can include having to adopt neoliberal policies and deal with ineq-
uitable cultures, unjust traditions, resistant colleagues, and inflexible
superiors, as well as work within complex political environments that
are difficult to navigate (Ryan & Higginbottom, 2017).
At the same time, leaders often hope that their actions will lead to
meaningful social change (Ryan & Higginbottom, 2017). To this end,
education leaders are usually expected to help enact values and visions
for the future by promoting egalitarian social relationships, just mate-
rial distribution, enhancement of human freedom, and collective partic-
ipatory self-governance (Saltman & Means, 2017). This is especially the
case in relation to primary school leadership in Serbia at a time when
the country has been attempting to implement democratic education
change and gain admission to the European Union (EU) (Ministry of
Education, 2012).
EU member states promote a commitment to social rights and
equality, and there is an expectation that the welfare state can be relied
on to support a European social model (Börzel & Grimm, 2018).
Concurrently, the European integration process has been used to pro-
mote mainstream neoliberal policies and to erode those state traditions
that gave many European countries their distinctiveness (Hermann,
2007). Indeed, by 2007, it was being recognised that the EU had two
main associated tasks with which it had to deal, namely, “the response
to the dynamic forces of advanced capitalism and the need to create
 1 Introduction    
3

a European citizenship” (Jarvis, 2007, p. 179). According to Jarvis

(2007), these two tasks represented globalisation and Europeanisation
respectively, where globalisation entails competitiveness, employa-
bility, and education and training for the information society, and
Europeanisation implies working on social cohesion. This meant that
once Serbia sought to join the EU, it was expected that its education
system would be changed both in terms of adopting democratic values
and liberalising the education market.
The context in which primary school principals in Serbia currently
work is one of a post-socialist and a post-conflict country which has
been experiencing economic regression. The overall change that has
taken place in the country has meant moving from a state-ruled and
planned economy to market-oriented consumerism and competitive-
ness, from socialist ideology to liberal democracy, from collectivism to
privatisation, and from a single party to a multiparty political system
(Velikonja, 2009). In the early years of the new state, political leaders
promised change and quick results that would be implemented ‘from
above’ (Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007a; Glenny, 2014). However, matters
did not proceed smoothly, with the process taking place in somewhat
of an institutional vacuum. Now, many old institutions and systems of
support no longer exist. Yet, up to four years ago, many new ones to
replace them had still not been fully formed, and those that were, were
not functioning efficiently (Kojanić, 2015).
The causes of the difficulties that presented themselves in the process
of democratisation can be viewed as being a result of a clash between
the complexities of the nation’s historical context and policy borrowing
from Western countries. In this regard, school leaders in Serbia are in
a particularly challenging position since they are the ones who need to
both understand and implement the education changes that are pre-
scribed. In other words, they are expected to be both objects of change
and agents of change, and this in a context where societal changes have
transformed their political position and their relationships to students,
to parents, and to their own profession. Also, they have to deal with the
fact that not only does new subject matter need to be taught, but it has
to be taught in a new way, using new modes of classroom management,
and under new laws and directives.
4   J. Raković et al.

The study detailed later in this book was undertaken as a response

to the above observation. The overall aim was to generate theory
on the perspectives of primary school leaders in Serbia on their work
within the current political, social and economic situation in which
the country finds itself. The focus of the research was on school lead-
ers at the primary school level. This was deemed appropriate because
of the importance of these personnel in the implementation of educa-
tion changes in the nation and because of their potential to have a pos-
itive effect on students’ learning through improved classroom practice.
Moreover, it was held that the results of the research would contrib-
ute to the body of knowledge concerning school principals as leaders
of education in post-Communist and post-conflict contexts. It was also
held that education policy and decision-making in Serbia could benefit
from being informed on the issues that are of current concern to pri-
mary school leaders. This, it was believed, could be of help in the design
and development of programmes for the preparation, professional
development and support of primary school leaders in Serbia. Finally,
it was held that future research on school leadership in other countries
in transition politically, economically and socially, could be informed by
the results of the research.
The remainder of this chapter is in four parts. First, an overview of
the broad context is presented. A synopsis of the pertinent academic lit-
erature is then outlined. This is followed by a description of the research
approach adopted for the study reported later in the book. Finally, the
content of the remaining chapters of the book are foreshadowed.

Overview of the Broad Context

Before the Balkan conflicts of the 1990s, Serbia was part of the
Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY). It enjoyed economic
growth as a communist country that had decentralised and liberalised
its original communist market to become a socialist one (Bideleux &
Jeffries, 2007a; Boeckh & Rutar, 2017; Glenny, 2014). However, eco-
nomic growth began to go into decline in the late 1970s, and to accel-
erate further in that direction in the 1980s. By the 1990s, the trend
 1 Introduction    
5

was continuing and was accompanied by a decrease in international

economic and political support for what was called ‘Yugoslav market
socialism’ and ‘workers’ self-management’ (Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007b;
Glenny, 2014; Petrović & Hofman, 2017).
Matters changed radically in 1990–1991. That is seen as the point
when there was a break with the old way of life, a crash of a system, a
breakup of the country, and the beginning of a series of wars (Spasić,
2012). It was also a time when concerns for morality gave way to con-
cerns for survival and when law and order were replaced by criminals
who had achieved power. Furthermore, while the year 2000 was seen as
a time when things could have changed, this in the end did not even-
tuate. An outcome of these circumstances was much disappointment
(Spasić, 2012).
Overall, democratisation in Serbia suffered from a rise in corrupt
black marketeers, brokers and gangsters, who were not concerned about
how to operate in competitive product markets and who were not
motivated to effectively implement the rule of law (Bideleux & Jeffries,
2007b). The resulting ineffective implementation of democratic change
was particularly harmful at a time when attempts were being taken to
promote recovery from inflation, from infrastructural neglect, and
from the economic priorities of the previous communist governments
(Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007b; Glenny, 2014). As a result, instead of mak-
ing the transition effectively from a mechanical to an organic society,
democratisation resulted in a situation that proved to be very challeng-
ing for the majority of the population (Škorić & Bešlin, 2017).
Speaking more broadly, societies in transition from communism to
capitalism can experience a particular challenge arising from a lack of
exposure to, and experience of, what the new system requires. Thus,
while new ideas can be formally imported, old thinking may persist. In
the field of education, it has been indicated that this can lead to a “dis-
crepancy between education aims, at a rhetoric level, and mentalities,
at a practical level” (Mincu, 2009, p. 71). To put it differently, individ-
uals located in the state of transition are often being asked to change
from doing something they were used to doing, to doing something
they never truly experienced for themselves (Škorić & Bešlin, 2017).
Regularly, as a result, the first solution they may arrive at is to keep
6   J. Raković et al.

doing the same things, but to start calling them something different
(Mincu, 2009).
A related issue can be the promotion of the interests of the most
powerful in the society. Following this, popular disenchantment can
emerge from the democratisation process. This brings to mind the
view that what has previously been defined as right and wrong within
a society may now become blurred and the individual may not have
clear social rules to follow (Hughes, Martin, & Sharrock, 2003; Pratto,
Žeželj, Maloku, Turjačanin, & Branković, 2017). Also, individuals can
cease being aware of each other’s interdependence when there is no effi-
cient mechanism in a society to ensure solidarity (Hughes et al., 2003;
Pratto et al., 2017). Such a situation can occur when there is a rapid
transition from a mechanical (uniform, with a common conscience) to
an organic (complex division of labour, needs moral regulation) society
(Hughes et al., 2003). In this regard, the process of democratisation in
the post-Yugoslav context demanded that there be a transition period
between that of the more mechanical communist society and that of
one with the organic qualities of democracy (Škorić & Bešlin, 2017).
As far back as the 1990s, the population in Serbia became aware that
circumstances had irreversibly changed. Furthermore, the changes con-
tinued after 2000. The hope was that the period of immature capital-
ism would end and that a new ‘normalcy’ would be reached (Kojanić,
2015). This however, has not eventuated. Rather, in the ‘immature
capitalism’ phase that persists, the institutions of the socialist state have
disappeared, while new institutions of neoliberal governmentality have
only just begun to emerge. Thus, owing to the high levels of uncertainty
and structural corruption, the individual’s capacity for decision-mak-
ing is restricted (Kojanić, 2015; Pratto et al., 2017). Spasić (2012) has
argued that the communist system in Serbia supported individuals in
the making of decisions autonomously on their life goals and on see-
ing them through. Not surprisingly, then, there is currently a nostalgia
being expressed that is rooted in a memory of hope that, it is held, used
to be abundant and is now lost (Spasić, 2012). The point of some is that
while communism can be seen in other European countries as having
been a dictatorship, people in Yugoslavia, the ‘ordinary people’, did not
 1 Introduction    
7

seem to mind the fact that they only had a single party for which they
could vote. Politics at the time, some hold, gave them peaceful lives,
unlike later on (Petrović & Hofman, 2017; Spasić, 2012).
Nowadays, Serbia’s population is ageing and is shrinking at a rate
of 0.5% per year. Also, healthcare, education, construction and spa-
tial planning, infrastructure projects, and the privatisation of public
enterprises still remain particularly vulnerable to corruption (European
Commission, 2016). Furthermore, from the time when the population
initially started to decline, school principals began to agitate to main-
tain the largest possible number of classes in their schools in order to
keep them running. This meant that any existing funds, rather than
being invested in development, were spent in trying to keep the largest
possible number of staff employed (Ministry of Education, 2012).
Some development funds have been provided by the EU, mostly
in the areas of public administration change, justice and home affairs,
competitiveness, education, and energy (Börzel & Grimm, 2018;
European Commission, 2016). Specifically in relation to education,
the implementation of an education action plan is progressing, albeit
with delays. Also, in 2016, it was concluded that additional investment
in education was badly needed at pre-school and basic education levels
(European Commission, 2016).
Serbia itself spends 95% of its budget for education on salaries. The
funding system is a dual one, meaning that the central government is
responsible for covering the salaries, whereas the local government is
meant to be involved in dealing with other investments and expenses.
However, there are not sufficient means at the local level to fund any
development projects, especially in poor communities (Ministry of
Education, 2012). Also, differences between individual schools are
emerging in terms of funding received, and, as a result, in the success
levels of students. The proposed solution has been to develop net-
works of schools, monitor data centrally, and fund schools based on
the number of students in attendance (Ministry of Education, 2012).
This means that those schools which could not justify having a certain
number of teachers in relation to the numbers of students on their rolls,
would have to close.
8   J. Raković et al.

Overview of the Related Literature

In various difficult circumstances, the role of school principals can
become crucial since they often constitute the leading body charged
with initiating positive change to ensure that there are improvements in
learning (Alam, 2017). For some time it has also been highlighted that
principals need to be able to deal with many different changes going on
at the same time and often in a chaotic manner (Wilde, 1998). Further,
simply adapting to ‘foreign trends’ can be inadequate since this may not
suit grassroots needs (Fullan, 2001).
Education change in Serbia, it has been claimed, has led to uncer-
tainty, structural corruption and restriction of the individual principal’s
capacity for decision-making (Kojanić, 2015). In this regard, it is help-
ful to recall the position of Fullan (2014), where he has emphasised the
importance of enthusiasm, energy, hope, and commitment as being cru-
cial in ensuring successful leadership. However, it is extremely difficult
for school principals to maintain an optimistic mindset when they are
operating in a system characterised by change like that being currently
experienced in Serbia.
Commenting more broadly, the gap in many education systems
between what school principals are trying to accomplish and what is
realistically possible given their contexts can become even wider as
a result of rapid privatisation of education provision and of costs that
have resulted from transnational neoliberal agendas of marketisation
and managerialism (Blackmore, 2016). This is because global cultural,
political and economic structures, discourses, and practices, as well as
value systems, can interact to frame leadership capacity in local con-
texts. Furthermore, since systemic issues can shape individual leadership
practice in individual schools, school leadership can be both framed and
confronted by increasingly commercialised and contractual relations
(Blackmore, 2017).
In the Anglophone states since the 1980s, there has been a shift from
a twentieth century modernist and Westernised state-centric democratic
education project, to a twenty-first century global project of education
capitalism (Ball, 2012). The influence of neoliberal policy has also been
 1 Introduction    
9

felt in various developing economies because of the requirements of the

International Monetary Fund (IMF) when providing loans (Harvey,
2007). An underlying assumption within this policy is that the private
sector is more efficient and effective than the public sector because qual-
ity is promoted by exercising parental choice in the education market
(Gunter & Fitzgerald, 2013).
Internationally, then, neoliberalV policies are infiltrating schools and
classrooms, and dictating how teachers should teach and how lead-
ers should lead. Also, school leaders are being forced into competitive
relationships with colleagues (Ryan, 2012). Furthermore, and paradoxi-
cally, the rise of neoliberal ideology since the 1980s and 1990s has been
characterised by a vast expansion of state bureaucratic authority in the
name of anti-bureaucratic market freedom (Saltman & Means, 2017).
This has been aggressively brought about through the state, which, at
the same time, often requires leaders to dismantle what are characterised
as inefficient public systems under democratic oversight and to replace
them with supposedly efficient private systems under corporate over-
sight (Hess, 2013). In this process, dynamic and transformative lead-
ership types are praised for their capacity to enforce rigid new systems
of privatisation and accountability guided by performance evaluations,
examinations, scripted curricula, and standardised tests, even though
these have little to do with education improvement in any meaningful
sense (Saltman & Means, 2017).
A concern about neoliberal policies, then, is the growing gap that
can grow between the rich and the poor, due to market-friendly prac-
tices. Thus, while neoliberal regimes have often not produced prom-
ised results, the gap between students, as between schools, has widened
(Ryan & Higginbottom, 2017). At the same time, while one could
argue that it is appropriate to resist the neoliberal project itself, it would
be a mistake to call for a return to some ‘golden age’ of public bureau-
cracies; looking to the past nostalgically could lead to overlooking the
fact that public education was often not capable of effectively promot-
ing practices that were culturally responsive, politically sophisticated,
or ethically sound (Anderson & López, 2017). Also, in many coun-
tries, education leadership has increasingly taken on entrepreneurial
10   J. Raković et al.

characteristics not necessarily because of the influence of role leadership

theory, but more because new policy networks have promoted mar-
ket-based and performance-based accountability strategies that have
redesigned the role of school leaders and their professional identities
(Anderson & López, 2017).
Neoliberal ideology has also led to a narrowing of the field regarding
who can become a school leader. In addition, some have argued that
with a shortage of applicants and significant numbers of early retirees,
and with corporatised principals’ roles having been stripped very much
of their education purposes, leadership education has become dom-
inated by distributed leadership (Niesche & Thomson, 2017). This is
not to suggest that engaging in authentic distributed leadership may not
be possible or desirable. Rather, it is to hold that in a neoliberal context,
the principals’ autonomy is highly limited. This is because school lead-
ership in many contexts has increasingly been robbed of its educative
purpose and is now ruled by school effectiveness and improvement dis-
courses of innovation, entrepreneurialism, and pseudo-democratic lead-
ership notions (Niesche & Thomson, 2017).
At the same time, it is well to keep in mind that in certain circum-
stances school autonomy can lead to site-based management that can
function quite differently in education systems organised within a nor-
mative frame of social justice, rather than that of the market. For this to
be possible, notions of social justice and equity need to be at the fore-
front of thinking in terms of school restructuring (Niesche & Thomson,
2017). With such thinking also, a socially just perspective, along with
a focus on the educative purpose of school leadership, should be core
elements of the work of school leaders. This is to argue that their
work should not simply be about compliance with practice that have
so far not resulted in improvements in equity and student outcomes
(Niesche & Thomson, 2017).
Engagement in small local acts also has the potential to transform
social relations in ways that, in turn, have the potential to foster mean-
ingful social change. While rare, education initiatives along such lines
undertaken in certain contexts have made it possible for school leaders
to influence social life beyond their schools. Examples that have been
noted as having this potential are public speaking, teamwork, engaging
 1 Introduction    
11

in proposal writing, influencing municipal budgets for local schools,

and participating in local redevelopment and construction projects
(Ryan & Higginbottom, 2017).
For education leaders to move from a market-driven paradigm to
a democracy-driven one, it is also necessary that they be educated on
making ethical judgements, on social and cultural interpretation, and
on the broad structures of power, privilege, and authority that can
make learning relevant for both human development and for tackling
broad social problems (Saltman & Means, 2017). Public and demo-
cratic commitment for engaging in education leadership, some argue,
should involve developing collective decision-making and power-shar-
ing in relation to school finance, teacher control, the economy, and
institutional organisation (Saltman & Means, 2017). Democratic forms
of leadership, it is also contended, should aim to democratise social
relations in the reinstitution of the school and foster shared forms of
working and living for shared benefit, rather than be modelled on the
corporate tendency towards collective labour for individualised benefit.
Overall, it is argued, education leadership should be primarily teacher
leadership embedded within a framework of collective governance and
community decision-making (Saltman & Means, 2017).
A major problem however, is that the existing ‘establishment’
approach promoted for leadership in education in many contexts is one
based on measurable accountability and on disciplinary threats. There
is nothing, however, that is inevitable about this. Instead of thinking of
accountability as measuring education progress through standardised
testing, it could be understood as relating to the extent to which school-
ing furthers and reflects public values and interests in terms of collec-
tive benefit and the sharing of democratic forms of control (Saltman &
Means, 2017).
Within the EU, education is seen to have the potential to make its
citizens members of the EU the most competitive knowledge soci-
ety in the world (Clarke & Wildy, 2009). Such an attitude has con-
tributed to a renewed emphasis on changing education systems within
Europe, as exemplified in the European Commission’s ‘Europe 2020’
policy, which featured developing education as a priority for develop-
ing an economy based on knowledge and innovation (Alexiadou, 2014).
12   J. Raković et al.

As a country aspiring to join the EU, Serbia has responded to these

trends with an ‘education 2020’ policy of its own. This policy equally
points to the need to develop and improve the country’s education system
in order to boost employment and create conditions for the development
of a knowledge society (Ministry of Education, 2012). It also emphasises
that failing to harmonise the education system of Serbia with EU require-
ments will marginalise the country as it will not be competitive enough
to attract foreign capital and not be able to develop democratic social
structure (Börzel & Grimm, 2018; Ministry of Education, 2012).
The research project described later in this book reports an investi-
gation on the perspectives of school principals in Serbia on their work
as they attempt to respond to the new professional demands placed
on them as a result of the scenario painted above. It is true that a wide
range of research projects on school leadership has been conducted on
other countries, especially since the beginning of the twenty-first cen-
tury (Bush, 2012). However, much of what has been undertaken has
focused on well-established and relatively stable societies. By contrast,
there is a very poor knowledge base that can be drawn upon to develop
theoretical models for informing leadership development programmes
in such complex situations like those which exist in Serbia (Clarke &
O’Donoghue, 2013b). In this regard, Clarke and O’Donoghue (2013a)
have argued that having an understanding of leadership in complex
and diverse contexts can be of assistance in helping leaders to be able to
respond effectively to the problems and challenges encountered by them
in their schools. The study reported later is offered as one contribution
to pursuing this agenda.

The Research Approach

Considering the nature of the research aim of the study reported later
in this book, which was to generate theory on the perspectives of school
principals in Serbia on their own work, a qualitative research approach
based on the interpretivist paradigm was deemed to be appropriate
(O’Donoghue, 2007). This was so because the emphasis in the study
was on studying the perspectives people have on situations and actions,
 1 Introduction    
13

and thus on their understandings of their world (O’Donoghue, 2007).

Overall, the goal of interpretivist research is to interpret the perspec-
tives others have on the world by focusing on their specific contexts and
historical and cultural settings (Creswell, 2013). For this purpose, the
researcher uses his or her skills as a social being to try to understand
how others understand their world (O’Donoghue, 2007).
Within the overall paradigm of interpretivism, symbolic interaction-
ism is a specific theoretical position that indicates how one can focus
on the importance of reality as people perceive it (O’Donoghue, 2007).
The focus for those adopting this position is on participants’ perspec-
tives, the actions they take in the light of their perspectives, and the pat-
terns which develop through the interaction of perspectives and actions
over particular periods of time (O’Donoghue, 2007). Moreover, their
current perspectives are formed against the backdrop of their view of
the past (Charon, 2001).
Symbolic interactionism is intimately related to grounded theory
approaches to data gathering and analysis for theory generation. Using
a grounded theory approach involves engaging in a process of inductive
theory building based on empirical data (Birks, 2011; Oktay, 2012). It
also facilitates the identification of research problems from professional
practice and from organisational and institutional contexts (Punch,
2009). From the associated data collected, the inquirer generates a gen-
eral understanding or theory, from the data (Bryant, 2007; Corbin,
2008; Creswell, 2013).
Primary school education in Serbia is free and compulsory, and it
lasts for eight years. Primary schools educate students from the age of
seven to the age of 15. Data collection in the study reported later was
conducted in 20 different primary schools in Serbia that were chosen
purposefully (Creswell, 2013; Punch, 2009). The purpose was to seek
diversity. This was achieved by ensuring that the schools differed in
size, length of operation, and location, as well as being spread across
cities, towns, and rural areas. Semi-structured in-depth interviewing
was employed as a data collection tool in order to allow participants to
express their own views in their own way (Hesse-Biber & Leavy, 2018;
O’Donoghue, 2007). All interviews were conducted in Serbian, the first
language of the researcher and of all of the participants.
14   J. Raković et al.

The participants included 20 school principals, each of whom was

assigned a code created to reflect his or her characteristics. There were
12 male and eight female participants. Ten participants were employed
at village schools, six at town schools, and four at city schools. The prin-
cipals ranged from being novices employed for only half-a-year at one
end of a continuum, to those employed for 26 years at the other. Thus,
a wide range of perspectives was also canvassed in terms of the three sig-
nificant recent historical periods: that of Yugoslav socialism, that of the
crisis of the 1990s, and that of Serbian democracy.
The approach to analysis was aimed directly at generating theory to
try to understand what was central in the data (Oktay, 2012; Punch,
2009). Initially, the researcher read the data in its textual form, made
margin notes, and wrote down initial ideas in the process of memoing
(Creswell, 2013). Secondly, in the process of open coding, the data were
segmented by being broken into words, lines, and segments to gener-
ate open codes, or initial conceptual units to be used in theory building
(Charmaz, 2006, 2014; Creswell, 2013; Oktay, 2012; Punch, 2009).
Thirdly, concepts, themes, and categories were then generated using the
process of inductive analysis (Charmaz, 2006, 2014; Creswell, 2013;
Oktay, 2012; Punch, 2009).
Regarding addressing issues of research quality, the following matters
were attended to while conducting the research. The research design was
described in detail to assure transparency and show that the methods and
the conclusions were trustworthy (Silverman, 2006). Member check-
ing, peer review, and external audits were conducted (Creswell, 2013).
Finally, in the process of data analysis, special attention was paid to
establishing relationships between generated categories (Creswell, 2013).

Structure of the Book

This chapter has provided a brief overview of the study presented in
this book. The structure of the rest of the book is as follows. Chapter 2
outlines the broad context of the study, reviewing the most relevant
changes in the Serbian education system relative to school leadership.
Chapter 3 provides a literature overview regarding the main authority
 1 Introduction    
15

types related to different types of society and social change, as well as

leadership typology, roles of school principals, and professional learning.
Chapters 4, 5, and 6 present the results of the study. Chapter 4 outlines
principals’ perspectives on how societal changes and the accompanying
education changes influence their work. Chapter 5 presents principals’
perspectives on governance of the education system in terms of central-
isation and decentralisation, and of related issues of accountability and
autonomy of school principals. Chapter 6 presents the perspectives of
school principals on their own roles and professional learning. Finally,
Chapter 7 summarises the study and outlines its implications for theory,
further research, policy and practice.

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 2
Overview of the Context

Introduction
The study of Serbian primary school principals’ perspectives on their
work, which is reported later, sits within the broad context of the
Republic of Serbia as a post-communist and post-conflict country. The
legacies of Yugoslav socialism, the Balkan conflicts of the 1990s, and
the contemporary transition towards democracy that is taking place
have shaped, and continue to shape, the education system in the nation.
As a result, any understanding of the perspectives of school principals
necessitates an understanding of this context.
In light of what has been said above, relevant historical and contem-
porary issues associated with societal and education developments in
Serbia are discussed in this chapter. First, an overview of key historical
and political developments is presented. This is followed by an account
of education changes that have taken place as a result of the introduc-
tion of contemporary democratisation practices. Next, the most prom-
inent governance initiatives that have been taken in relation to the
development of Serbia’s education system are outlined. An exposition
on the latest developments in relation to the nation’s education policy

© The Author(s) 2019 21

J. Raković et al., Leaders and Leadership in Serbian Primary Schools,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-03529-7_2
22   J. Raković et al.

on school leadership follows. The chapter concludes with an overview

of contextual implications for the role of school principals and the pro-
grammes that they are expected to attend in light of official education
policy.

Historical Developments
This section presents an overview of key historical and political develop-
ments that provide the background to the most recent stages in the his-
torical development of Serbia, namely, the period of Yugoslav socialism
(1945–1991), the period of the conflicts of the 1990s, and the period of
democratisation of the country from 2000 onwards. Specifically regard-
ing the latter, in moving from socialism to democracy the centralising
influence of the communist government was replaced by a democratic,
decentralising one (Boeckh & Rutar, 2017).
The historical, geographical, and political context of the Balkan
region predisposed it to the adoption of strong centralising power struc-
tures. Throughout much of its complicated history, the area was under
the control of various multinational empires, including the Roman
Empire, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and the Ottoman Empire
(Kolev, 2017). The centralising and dominating bureaucratic control of
these empires slowed down the development of capitalism (Reynolds,
2000). Vertical power structures were perpetuated by them, manifest-
ing in the desire for a state that would provide social security as well
as opportunity for engaging in corruption and the abuse of power
(Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007b).
Also, in the territory of former Yugoslavia, three religions formed
the basis for creating different ethnic identities amongst a population
sharing a common language and origin. Initially, when the South Slav
tribes inhabited it in the seventh century, those from the west embraced
the Catholic religion and the Latin alphabet from the Roman Church,
while those from the east adopted Orthodox religious teachings and
the Cyrillic alphabet from the Byzantine Church (Bideleux & Jeffries,
2007b; Glenny, 2014). Later on, this religious division brought about
the divide of the South Slavs into those with Serbian and those with
 2 Overview of the Context    
23

Croatian national identities, although this happened slowly (Bideleux &

Jeffries, 2007b). Also, during the Ottoman reign, some of the popu-
lation belonging to both denominations converted to Islam (Kolev,
2017). While many genuine conversions cannot be ruled out, the
possibility of advancing socially towards the ruling class seems to also
have been a motivating factor, especially in larger towns and cities
(Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007b). The non-Muslim rural population paid
higher taxes, but the Ottomans never forced their religion on the peo-
ple of the Balkans (Kolev, 2017). As a result, the three religious groups
coexisted relatively peacefully over centuries as long as they were ruled
by a unifying supranational entity (Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007b; Glenny,
2014; Kolev, 2017).
Moreover, during Ottoman rule, migrations within the Empire
resulted in ethnically different populations inhabiting the same area
(Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007b; Glenny, 2014; Kolev, 2017). The same
situation eventuated during the Austro-Hungarian Empire when
the Serbian population was strategically moved to a military zone on
the border to protect the Empire from Ottoman attacks (Bideleux &
Jeffries, 2007b; Kolev, 2017). As a result of the strength of the empires
in the region, there was little distinction made between dominant and
non-dominant ethnic and religious groups in the areas to which people
moved (Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007b; Glenny, 2014).
For as long as there was a supranational structure, a ruling empire,
or the Yugoslav Federation to balance out interests, populations that
differed in terms of historical, economic, and cultural characteris-
tics coexisted on the same territory without engaging in open conflict
(Boeckh & Rutar, 2017; Jović, 2001). Nevertheless, the advent of a uni-
fying structure under the Yugoslav ‘project’ also perpetuated the abuse
of vertical power relations (Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007a). And yet, at the
same time, it also served as a multinational federal structure that bal-
anced the interests of different nations, thus transcending ethnic and
religious differences through secularisation (Bideleux & Jeffries, 2007b;
Boeckh & Rutar, 2017).
During the Cold War, Yugoslavia represented a middle ground
between the Eastern and Western blocs (Jović, 2001). As a communist
country, it had the support of the Soviet Union. However, as a country
Another random document with
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question as to the function and purpose of that strange
Mesopotamian institution of temple-prostitutes. But, leaving this latter
alone for the moment, we find explicit testimony in Herodotus to the
fact with which we are immediately concerned. In describing the
great temple of Bel at Babylon,265.1 he asserts, on the authority of
his “Chaldean priests,” that the deity chose as his nightly partner
some native woman, who was supposed to pass the night on the
couch with him, and who was obliged to abstain from all other
intercourse with men; and he compares a similar practice of belief
found in the temple of Zeus in Egyptian Thebes, and in the oracular
shrine of Apollo at Patara in Lycia. Now Herodotus’ trustworthiness
in this matter has been doubted by Assyriologists;265.2 nevertheless,
a phrase used in the code of Hammurabi concerning a holy woman
dedicated to temple service, calling her “a wife of Marduk,” seems to
give some colour to the Herodotean statement.265.3 Only, this term
might have merely a spiritual-symbolic significance, like the
designation of a nun as “the bride of Christ”; for the original
Babylonian documents have supplied as yet, so far as I am aware,
no evidence of a woman fulfilling the rôle of Belit, the wife of Bel.
As regards the adjacent religions, the idea that a mortal might
enter into this mode of communion with the divinity was probably an
ancient heritage of the Phrygian religions, for it crops up in various
forms. The priest of Attis was himself called Attis, and, therefore,
probably had loving intercourse with the goddess, and the later
mysteries of Kybele extended this idea and offered to every votary
the glory of a mystic marriage;266.1 it was the unconscious stimulus
of an immemorial tradition that prompted the Phrygian heresiarch
Montanus to give himself out as the husband of the Virgin Mary.266.2
It also appears as a fundamental tenet of the Sabazian mystery and
of the Hellenistic-Egyptian Hermetic theosophy. The simple ritual-
fact, namely, that a woman serves as the bride of the god, could
probably be traced far afield through many widely distant peoples.
According to Sahagun,266.3 the human sacrifices of the Mexicans
had sometimes the purpose of sending away a woman victim into
divine wedlock. In pre-Christian Sweden we find a priestess
generally regarded as the wife of the god Freyr, and enjoying
considerable power from the connection.266.4 Similar examples can
be quoted from modern savage communities. Therefore if we find
the same institution in the Mediterranean, we shall not think it
necessary to suppose that it was an import from Babylon or from any
Semitic people. As regards the Minoan worship, it is legitimate at
least to regard the legend of Pasiphaë and her amour with the bull-
god as an unfortunate aetiologic myth distorting the true sense of a
ritual in which a mortal woman enjoyed this kind of divine
communion, and here again we should mark a religious affinity
between Crete and Phrygia. And it is likely that the idea was not
unfamiliar to the Hellenes, though the record of it is scanty and
uncertain. According to the early Christian fathers, the inspiration of
the Pythia of Delphi was due to a corporeal union with Apollo akin at
least to—if not identical with—sexual intercourse. Of more value is
Herodotus’ definite assertion that the priestess of Patara gained her
inspiration by her nuptial union with Apollo. In the rare cases where
the cult of a Hellenic god was administered by a priestess we may
suspect that a ἱερὸς γάμος was part of the temple-ritual; in the two
examples that I have been able to find, the cults of Poseidon at
Kalaureia and of Heracles at Thespiai, the priestess must be a
maiden, as on this theory would be natural.267.1 The maiden-
priestesses of the Leukippides, the divine brides of the Dioskouroi at
Sparta, were themselves called Leukippides; in all probability
because they were their mortal representatives in some ceremony of
holy marriage.267.2 But the most salient and explicitly recorded
example is the yearly marriage of the Queen-Archon at Athens with
Dionysos, the bull-god, in the feast of Anthesteria, the significance of
which I have discussed elsewhere.267.3 It seems that the Queen by
uniting her body with the god’s, unites to him the whole Athenian
state and secures its prosperity and fruitfulness; this historic fact may
also explain the myth of the union of Althaia, Queen of Kalydon, with
the same god. Finally, let us observe that nothing in any of these
Hellenic records suggests any element of what we should call
impurity in the ritual; we are not told that these holy marriages were
ever consummated by the priest as the human representative of the
god; or that the ceremony involved any real loss of virginity in the
maiden-priestess. The marriage could have been consummated
symbolically by use of a puppet or image of the deity. We may
believe that the rite descends from pre-Homeric antiquity; the ritual
which the Queen-Archon performed might naturally have been
established at the time of the adoption into Athens of the Dionysiac
cult, and there are reasons for dating this event earlier than 1000
B.C.268.1
We now come to a very difficult and important question concerning
the position of women in the old Mesopotamian temple-ritual. Our
first document of value is the code of Hammurabi, in which we find
certain social regulations concerning the status of a class of women
designated by a name which Winckler translates doubtfully as
“God’s-sisters,” regarding it, however, as equivalent to consecrated,
while Johns translates it merely as “votary.”268.2 At least, we have
proof of a class of holy women who have certain privileges and are
under certain restrictions. They were the daughters of good families
dedicated by their fathers to religion; they could inherit property,
which was exempt from the burden of army-tax; they could not
marry, and were prohibited from setting-up or even entering a wine-
shop under penalty of death. It is something to know even as much
as this about them, but we would very gladly learn more. Is it to their
order that the personage described as “the wife of Marduk”269.1
belongs, who has been considered above? Is it from among them
that the priestesses of Ishtar were chosen, who interpreted the
oracles of the goddess?269.2 It seems clear that a father could
dedicate his daughter to any divinity, that their position was
honourable, and that they are not to be identified with the temple-
prostitutes of Babylon or Erech, who excited the wonder and often
the reprobation of the later Greek world. This peculiar order of
temple-harlots is also recognised—according to some of the best
authorities269.3—in Hammurabi’s code, where they are mentioned in
the same context with the “consecrated” or the “God-sisters,” and yet
are clearly distinct from them; another clause seems to refer to male
prostitutes (§ 187). Certain rules are laid down concerning their
inheritance of property, and concerning the rearing of their children, if
they had any, who might be adopted into private families. Evidently
these “Qadishtu” were a permanent institution, and there is no hint of
any dishonour. There may be other references in Babylonian
literature to these temple-women; in the Epic of Gilgamesh, the
courtesan who won over Eabani evidently belongs to the retinue of
Ishtar of Erech.
From these two institutions we must distinguish that other, for
which Herodotus is our earliest authority:269.4 according to his
explicit statement, once in her lifetime every Babylonian woman,
high or low, had to stand in the temple-precincts of the goddess
Mylitta—probably a functional appellative of Ishtar, meaning “the
helper of childbirth”—and to prostitute herself to any stranger who
threw money into her lap and claimed her with the formula, “I invoke
the goddess Mylitta for you.” Herodotus hastens to assure us that
this single act of unchastity—which took place outside the temple—
did not afterwards lower the morality of the women, who, as he
declares, were otherwise exemplary in this respect. But he is
evidently shocked by the custom, and the early Christian and
modern writers have quoted it as the worst example of gross pagan
or Oriental licentiousness. Some devoted Assyriologists have tried to
throw doubt on the historian’s veracity:270.1 the wish is father to the
thought: and it is indeed difficult for the ordinary civilised man to
understand how an ancient civilisation of otherwise advanced
morality could have sanctioned such a practice. But Herodotus’
testimony ought not to be so impugned; nor is it sufficient evidence
for rejecting it that no reference to the custom which he describes
has been found hitherto in the cuneiform literature. Strabo merely
repeats what Herodotus has said; but independent evidence of some
value is gathered from the apocryphal Epistle of Jeremias:270.2 “The
women also with cords about them sit in the ways, burning bran for
incense; but if any of them, drawn by some that pass by, lie with
them, she reproacheth her fellow that she was not thought as worthy
as herself, nor her cord broken.” The context is altogether religious,
and this is no ordinary secular immorality; certain details in the
narrative remind us of Herodotus, and make it clear that the writer
has in mind the same social usage that the historian vouches for.
This usage may be described as the consecration to the goddess of
the first-fruits of the woman’s virginity before marriage; for, though
Herodotus does not explicitly say that it was a rite preliminary to
marriage, yet the records of similar practices elsewhere in Asia
Minor assure us on this point.
We have now to begin the comparative search in the adjacent
regions, keeping distinct the three types of consecration which I have
specified above, which are too often confused.271.1
The first type has its close analogies with the early Christian,
mediaeval, and modern conventual life of women. The code of
Hammurabi presents us with the earliest example of what may be
called the religious sisterhood; the Babylonian votaries were
dedicated to religion, and while the Christian nuns are often called
the brides of Christ, their earliest prototypes enjoyed the less
questionable title of “God’s-sisters.” We find no exact parallel to this
practice in ancient Greece; from the earliest period, no doubt, the
custom prevailed of consecrating individual women of certain
families as priestesses to serve certain cults, and sometimes chastity
was enforced upon them; but these did not form a conventual
society; and usually, apart from their occasional religious duties, they
could lead a secular life. In fact, the monastic system was of Eastern
origin and only reached Europe in later times, being opposed to the
civic character of the religion of the old Aryan states.
The second class of consecrated women served as temple-harlots
in certain cult-centres of Asia Minor. We cannot say that the custom
in all cases emanated from Babylon; for there is reason to think that
it was a tradition attaching to the cult of the goddess among the
polytheistic Semitic stocks. We have clear allusions in the Bible to
temple-prostitution practised by both sexes in the Canaanite
communities adjacent to the Israelites, who were themselves
sometimes contaminated by the practice.272.1 We hear of “hierodouli”
among the pagan Arabs,272.2 of women “of the congregation of the
people of Astarte” at Carthage,272.3 of numbers of dedicated slave
women in the cult of Aphrodite at Eryx,272.4 which was at least semi-
Semitic; and it is likely that some of these at least were devoted to
the impure religious practice. As regards non-Semitic worships, it is
only clearly attested of two, namely, of the worship of Mā at Comana
in Pontos,272.5 and of Aphrodite Ourania in Corinth.272.6 In these
cases we have the right to assume Semitic influences at work; for we
do not find traces of this practice in the ancient cult of Kybele; and
Ma of Cappadocia and Pontus, who had affinities with her, was partly
contaminated with Anahita, a Persian goddess, who had taken on
Babylonian fashions. Nor can we doubt that the practice gained
recognition at Corinth in post-Homeric times through its Oriental
trade; for it was attached to the cult of Aphrodite Ourania, whose
personality, partly at least, was identical with that of the Semitic
goddess. The practice survived in Lydia in the later period of the
Graeco-Roman culture. For a woman of Tralles, by name Aurelia
Aemilia, erected a column with an inscription that has been
published by Sir William Ramsay,273.1 in which she proclaims with
pride that she had prostituted herself in the temple service “at the
command of an oracle,” and that her female ancestors had done
likewise. Finally, we may find the cult-practice reflected in certain
legends; in the legend of Iconium, for instance, of the woman who
enticed all strangers to her embraces and afterwards slew them, but
was herself turned to stone by Perseus, and whose stone image
gave the name to the State.273.2
The other custom recorded by Herodotus of Babylon, the
consecration of the first-fruits of virginity to the goddess before
marriage, which I have considered as distinct from the foregoing,
may often have been combined or confused with it; for the temple-
harlotry, carried on for some considerable period, might be
occasionally a preliminary to marriage. The most exact parallels to
the Babylonian custom are found in the records of Byblos, Cyprus,
and the Syrian Heliopolis or Baalbec. Lucian attests the rule
prevailing at Byblos, that in the festival of Adonis women exposed
themselves for purchase on one single day, and that only strangers
were allowed to enjoy them; but that this service was only imposed
upon them if they refused to cut off their hair in lamentation for
Adonis.274.1 Similarly the Byzantine historian Sozomenos declared
that at Heliopolis (Baalbec), in the temple of Astarte, each maiden
was obliged to prostitute herself before marriage, until the custom
and the cult were abolished by Constantine.274.2 The statements
about Cyprus, though less explicit, point to the same institution:
Herodotus, having described at length the Babylonian practice,
declares that it prevailed in Cyprus also, and Justin274.3 that it was a
custom of the Cyprians “to send their virgins before marriage on
fixed days to the shore, to earn their dowry by prostitution, so as to
pay a first-offering to Venus for their virtue henceforth (pro reliqua
pudicitia libamenta Veneri soluturas).” The procession to the shore
may indicate the rule that intercourse was only allowed them with
strangers,274.4 and nothing points to prolonged prostitution. It is
probably the same rite that the Locrians of the West vowed to
perform in honour of Aphrodite in the event of deliverance from a
dangerous war.275.1 But in the worship of Anaitis at Akilisene in
Armenia, according to Strabo,275.2 the unmarried women served as
temple-harlots for an indefinite time until they married; and Aurelia
Aemilia of Tralles may have been only maintaining the same ancient
ritual in Lydia. In these two countries, then, it seems as if there had
been a fusion of two institutions that elsewhere were distinct one
from another, harlot-service for a prolonged period in a temple, and
the consecration of each maiden’s virginity as a preliminary to
marriage.
Such institutions mark the sharpest antagonism between the early
religious sentiment of the East and the West. Of no European State
is there any record, religious or other, that the sacrifice before
marriage of a woman’s virginity to a mortal was at any time regarded
as demanded by temple ritual. Such a rite was abhorrent to the
genuine Hellenic, as it was to the Hebraic, spirit; and only in later
times do we find one or two Hellenic cult-centres catching the taint of
the Oriental tradition: while such legends as that of Melanippos and
Komaitho and the story of Laokoon’s sin express the feeling of horror
which any sexual licence in a temple aroused in the Greek.275.3
It is imperative to try to understand the original purpose or
significance of the Semitic and Anatolian rites that we have been
dealing with. To regard them as the early Christian and some
modern writers have done, as mere examples of unbridled Oriental
lust masquerading in the guise of religion, is a false and unjust view.
According to Herodotus, the same society that ordained this sacrifice
of virginity upon the daughters of families maintained in other
respects a high standard of virtue, which appears also attested by
Babylonian religious and secular documents. Modern anthropology
has handled the problem with greater insight and seriousness; but
certain current explanations are not convincing. To take the rite
described by Herodotus first, which is always to be distinguished
from the permanent institution of “hierodulai” in the sense of temple-
harlots: Mannhardt, who was the first to apply modern science to the
problem, explained it as a development of vegetation-ritual.276.1
Aphrodite and Adonis, Ishtar and Tammuz, represent vegetation, and
their yearly union causes general fertility; the women are playing the
part of the goddess, and the stranger represents Adonis! The
Babylonian rite, then, is partly religious μιμησις, the human acting of
a divine drama, partly religious magic good for the crops. But in spite
of Mannhardt’s great and real services to science, his vegetation-
theory leads him often astray, and only one who was desperately
defending a thesis would explain that stranger, a necessary
personage in the ritual at Babylon, Byblos, Cyprus, and Baalbec, as
the native god. There is no kind of reason for connecting the
Babylonian rite with Tammuz, or for supposing that the women were
representing the goddess,277.1 or that their act directly influenced the
crops, except in the sense that all due performance of religious
ceremonies has been considered at certain stages of belief as
favouring the prosperity of the land. Sir William Ramsay, in his Cities
and Bishoprics of Phrygia,277.2 would explain the custom as
preserving the tradition of the communism of women before regular
marriage was instituted. Dr. Frazer, who has dealt more fully with the
question, accepts this explanation,277.3 as he also accepts
Mannhardt’s in full; and, while he associates—as I think, wrongly—
the Babylonian rite with general temple-prostitution, he adds a third
suggestion, prompted by his theory of kingship: the king himself
might have to mate with one or more of the temple-harlots “who
played Astarte to his Adonis”:277.4 such unions might serve to
maintain the supply of human deities, one of whom might succeed to
the throne, and another might be sacrificed in his father’s stead
when religion demanded the life of the royal man-god. I do not find
this theory coherent even with itself; and, like the others, it fails to
explain all the facts, and, on the other hand, it imagines data which
are not given us by the records.
That state of communism when sexual union was entirely
promiscuous is receding further and further into the anthropological
background: it is dangerous to predicate it of the most backward
Anatolian State in any period which can come into our ken. When
the Byzantine Sokrates gravely tells us that the men of Heliopolis
had their wives in common, he does not know what he is saying. And
if this sacrifice of virginity before marriage was a recognition of the
original rights of all the males of the community, why did not some
representative of the community take the virginity, the priest or some
head-man? This ill-considered sociologic hypothesis shipwrecks on
that mysterious stranger.278.1
Prof. Westermarck, in his Origin and Development of the Moral
Ideas,278.2 regards the Mylitta-rite as intended to ensure fertility in
women through direct appeal to the goddess of fertility, and he
explains the formula which the stranger uttered—ἐπικαλέω τοι τὴν
θεὸν Μύλιττα—as signifying generally “May the goddess Mylitta
prosper thee.” Obviously the phrase, “I invoke the goddess for thee,”
could as naturally mean, “I claim thee in the name of the goddess,”
the stranger basing his right to the woman on this appeal. But his
general theory appears not so unsound as those which have just
been noted.
The comparative method ought to help us here; and though we
have no exact parallel, as far as I am aware, recorded of any people
outside the Mediterranean area to the Babylonian custom, we find
usages reported elsewhere that agree with it in one essential.
Lubbock quotes instances from modern India of the rule imposed
upon women of presenting themselves before marriage in the temple
of Juggernaut for the purpose—as he implies—of offering up their
virginity, though no such custom is recorded in the Vedic period of
religion;278.3 cases also are chronicled of the rule prevailing among
uncultured or semi-cultured tribes that the medicine-man or the
priest should take the virginity of the bride before the marriage
ceremony.279.1 These are probably illustrations of the working of the
same idea as that which inspired the Babylonian custom. Marriage
involves the entering upon a new state; change of life is generally
dangerous, and must be safeguarded by what Van Gennep has
called “rites de passage”; more especially is the sexual union with a
virgin dangerous and liable to be regarded with awe by primitive
sentiment; before it is safe to marry her, the tabu that is upon her
must first be removed by a religious act securing the divinity’s
sanction for the removal; just as the ripe cornfield must not be
reaped before religious rites, such as the consecration of first-fruits,
have loosened the tabu upon it: we may believe that Hellenic
marriage ritual secured the same end as the Babylonian by what
seems to us the more innocent method of offering the προτέλεια. So
the Babylonian safeguards the coming marriage by offering the first-
fruits of his daughter to the goddess who presides over the powers
and processes of life and birth. Under her protection, after appeal to
her, the process loses its special danger; or if there is danger still, it
falls upon the head of the stranger.279.2 For I can find no other way of
accounting for his presence as a necessary agent, in the ritual of at
least four widely separate communities of Semitic race: this
comparative ubiquity prevents us explaining it as due to some
capricious accidental impulse of delicacy, as if the act would become
less indelicate if a stranger who would not continue in the place
participated in it.
In his essay on the question, Mr. Hartland explains the Babylonian
rite as belonging to the class of puberty-ceremonies; nor would this
account of it conflict with the view here put forth, if, as he maintains,
primitive puberty-ceremonies to which girls are subjected are usually
preliminary to the marriage which speedily follows.280.1 But puberty-
ceremonies are generally performed at initiation-mysteries, and none
of the rites that we are considering appear to have been associated
with mysteries except, perhaps, at Cyprus, where the late record
speaks of mysteries instituted by Kinyras that had a sexual
significance, and which may have been the occasion of the
consecration of virginity that Justin describes;280.2 but the institution
of mysteries has not yet been proved for any purely Semitic religion.
In any case, Mr. Hartland’s statement does not explain why the loss
of virginity should be considered desirable in a puberty-ceremony or
as a preliminary to marriage.
 The significance of the action, as I have interpreted it, is negative
rather than positive, the avoidance of a vague peril or the removal of
a tabu rather than the attainment of the blessing of fertility, as Dr.
Westermarck would regard it. And this idea, the removal of a tabu,
seems expressed in the phrase of Herodotus281.1 by which he
describes the state of the woman after the ceremony—
ἀποσιωσαμένη τῇ θεῷ; and the parallel that I have suggested, the
consecration of the first-fruits of the harvest to remove the tabu from
the rest of the crop, is somewhat justified by the words of Justin
already quoted—“pro reliqua pudicitia libamenta Veneri soluturas.”
As regards the other institution, the maintenance of “hierodoulai” in
temples as “consecrated” women, “kadeschim,” unmarried, who for a
period of years indulged in sexual intercourse with visitors, the
original intention and significance of it is hard to decide. We may be
sure that it did not originate in mere profligacy, and the inscription of
Tralles shows that even in the later Roman period it had not lost its
religious prestige.281.2 Such a custom could naturally arise in a
society that allowed freedom of sexual intercourse among young
unmarried persons—and this is not uncommonly found at a primitive
level of culture—and that was devoted to the worship of a goddess
of sexual fertility. The rituals in the temples of Ishtar of Erech, Anaitis
of Armenia, Mā of Comana, must have been instituted for some
national and social purpose; therefore Mr. Hartland’s suggestion, that
the original object of the Armenian rite was to give the maidens a
chance of securing themselves a suitable husband by experience,
seems insufficient. Dr. Frazer’s theory, that connects the institution
with some of the mystic purposes of kingship,282.1 floats in the air; for
there is not a particle of evidence showing any relation between
these women and the monarch or the royal harem or the
monarchical succession or the death of a royal victim. A simpler
suggestion is that the “hierodoulai,” or temple-women, were the
human vehicles for diffusing through the community the peculiar
virtue or potency of the goddess, the much-coveted blessing of
human fertility. Thus to consecrate slaves or even daughters to this
service was a pious social act.
The significance of the facts that we have been examining is of the
highest for the history of religious morality, especially for the varied
history of the idea of purity. We call this temple-harlotry vile and
impure; the civilised Babylonian, who in private life valued purity and
morality, called the women “kadistu,” that is, “pure” or clean in the
ritualistic sense, or as Zimmern interprets the ideogram, “not
unclean.”282.2 In fact, the Mediterranean old-world religions, all save
the Hebraic, agreed in regarding the processes of the propagation of
life as divine, at least as something not alien or abhorrent to
godhead. But the early Christian propagandists, working here on
Hebraic lines, intensified the isolation of God from the simple
phenomena of birth, thereby engendering at times an anti-sexual
bias, and preparing a discord between any possible biological view
and the current religious dogma, and modern ethical thought has not
been wholly a gainer thereby.
The subject that has been discussed at some length is also
connected with the whole question of ritual-purity and purification.
The primitive conception of purity had at an early stage in its
evolution been adopted by higher religion; and the essential effect of
impurity was to debar a person from intercourse with God and with
his fellow-men. Hence arises a code of rules to regulate temple-
ritual. So far as I am aware, the Babylonian rules for safeguarding
the purity of the shrines were not conspicuously different from the
Greek or the Hebraic.283.1 The taint of bloodshed and other physical
impurities was kept aloof; and it is in the highest degree probable
that the function of the “hetairai” was only performed outside the
temple, for Herodotus specially tells us that this rule was observed in
the Mylitta-rite. The cathartic methods of East and West agree in
many points. The use of holy water for purifying purposes was
known to the early Greeks.283.2 It was still more in evidence in the
Babylonian ritual: the holy water of the Euphrates or Tigris was used
for a variety of purposes, for the washing of the king’s hands before
he touched the statues, for the washing of the idol’s mouths,283.3
perhaps also for baptism. For we hear of some such rite in a hymn to
Enlil translated by Dr. Langdon284.1—the line that he renders “Son
whom in the sacred bowl she baptized,” seems to refer to a human
child. Ablution was prominent also in the exorcism-ritual, and the
“House of Washing” or “House of Baptism” was the centre of a liturgy
that had for its object deliverance from demons.284.2 The whole State
was at times purified by water.284.3 And in all this ritual the water
must itself be of a peculiar purity—rain-water, for instance,284.4 or the
water of the Euphrates, whence came probably the Water of Life that
was kept in Marduk’s temple with which the Gods and the Annunaki
washed their faces, and which was used in the feast of the Doom-
fixing.284.5 According to the Babylonian view ordinary water was
naturally impure (we may well believe that it was so at Babylon,
where the river and canals were so pressed into the service of man),
and a person incurred impurity by stepping over a puddle or other
unpurified water.284.6 The Greek did not need to be so scrupulous,
for most water in his land was naturally pure, being spring or brook;
yet in his cathartic rules we find often that only a special water was
suitable for the religious purpose, running water especially, or sea-
water, or in a particular locality one sacred fountain only.284.7 But
though it was to him as to most peoples, the simple and natural
means of purification, he did not apply it to such various cathartic
purposes as the Babylonian. Nor as far as we can discover had he
developed in old days the interesting rite of baptism: we hear of it
first in the records of the fifth century, and in relation to alien cults
like that of the Thracian goddess Kotytto.285.1
Equally prominent in the cathartic ritual of Mesopotamia was the
element of fire: in the prayer that followed upon the purification-
ceremonies we find the formula, “May the torch of the gleaming Fire-
God cleanse me.”285.2 The Fire-God, Nusku, is implored “to burn
away the evil magicians,”285.3 and we may believe that he owes his
development and exalted position as a high spiritual god to the ritual
use of fire, just as in the Vedic religion did Agni. The conception of
fire as a mighty purifying element, which appears in the Old and New
Testaments and in Christian eschatology, has arisen, no doubt, from
the cathartic ritual of the ancient Semites. Doubtless also the
spiritual or magic potency of this element was known in ancient
Europe: it is clearly revealed in the primitive ceremonies of the old
German “Notfeuer,” with which the cattle, fields, and men were
purified in time of pestilence.285.4 And there are several indications of
its use in Greek cathartic ritual; a noteworthy example is the
purification of Lemnos by the bringing of holy fire from Delos;285.5 the
curious Attic ritual of running with the new-born babe round the
hearth, called the Amphidromia, may have had a similar
intention;286.1 even the holy water, the χέρνιψ, seems to have been
hallowed by the insertion of a torch;286.2 and in the later records fire
is often mentioned among the usual implements of cleansing.286.3
The Eleusinian myth concerning Demeter holding the infant
Demophon in the flame to make him immortal was suggested
probably by some purificatory rite in which fire was used. Finally, the
fire-ordeal, which was practised both in Babylonia and Greece,286.4
may have been associated at a certain period with the cathartic
properties of fire. Nevertheless, the Hellenic divinities specially
concerned with this element, Hestia and Hephaistos, had little
personal interest in this ritual, and did not rise to the same height in
the national theology as Nusku rose in the Babylonian.
We might find other coincidences in detail between Hellenic and
Assyrian ritual, such as the purificatory employment of salt, onions,
and the sacrificial skin of the animal-victim.286.5 One of the most
interesting phenomena presented by the cathartic law of old
Babylonia is a rule that possessed an obvious moral value; we find,
namely, on one of the cylinders of Gudea, that during the period
when Gudea was purifying the city the master must not strike the
slave, and no action at law must be brought against any one; for
seven days perfect equality reigned, no bad word was uttered, the
widow and the orphan went free from wrong.287.1 The conception
underlying this rule is intelligible: all quarrelling and oppression,
being often accompanied with bloodshed and death, disturbs the
general purity which is desired to prevail; and I have indicated
elsewhere a similar law regulating the conduct of the Eleusinian
mysteries and the Dionysiac festival at Athens, both ceremonies of
cathartic value,287.2 and I have pointed out a similar ordinance
observed recently by a North-American Indian tribe, and formerly by
the Peruvians; to these instances may be added the statement by
Livy,287.3 that in the Roman “lectisternia,” when a table with offerings
was laid before the gods, no quarrelling was allowed and prisoners
were released, and the historian gives to the institution of the
lectisternia a piacular significance.
We must also bear in mind certain striking differences between the
Hellenic and the Babylonian cathartic systems. In certain purification-
ceremonies of Hellas, those in which the homicide was purged from
his stain, the washing with the blood of the piacular victim was the
most potent means of grace.287.4 We may find analogies in Vedic,
Roman, and Hebraic ritual, but hitherto none have been presented
by the religious documents of Babylon, where, as has been already
pointed out, scarcely any mystic use appears to have been made of
the blood of the victim.288.1 Again, the Babylonian purification
included the confession of sins, a purgation unknown and apparently
unnatural to the Hellene;288.2 and generally the Babylonian, while
most of its methods, like the Hellenic, are modes of transference or
physical riddance of impurity, had a higher spiritual and religious
significance; for it includes lamentations for sin and prayers to the
divinity that are not mentioned in the record of any Greek “katharsis.”
A long ritual-document is preserved containing the details of the
purification of the king:288.3 certain forms agree with the Hellenic, but
one who was only versed in the latter would find much that was
strange and unintelligible both in the particulars and in general
atmosphere. We discern an interesting mixture of magic and religion.
The gods are partly entreated, partly bribed, partly constrained; and
at the end the evil is physically expelled from the palace. The purifier
puts on dark garments, just as the ministers of the underworld-
deities did occasionally in Greece. The king himself performs much
of the ceremony, and utters words of power: “May my sins be rent
away, may I be pure and live before Shamash.” The ordering of the
cathartic apparatus is guided partly by astrology. It is curious also to
find that every article used in the process is identified by name with
some divinity: the cypress is the god Adad, the fragrant spices the
god Ninib, the censer the god Ib, etc.; and the commentary that
accompanies the ritual-text explains that these substances compel
the deities thus associated with them to come and give aid.
In fact, the differences between East and West in this religious
sphere are so important that we should not be able to believe that
the cathartic system of Greece was borrowed from Babylonia, even if
the points of resemblance were much more numerous and striking
than they are. For it would be possible to draw up a striking list of
coincidences between Hellenic and Vedic cathartic rites, and yet no
one would be able on the strength of it to establish a hypothesis of
borrowing.
In any case, it may be said, the question of borrowing does not
arise within the narrow limits of our inquiry, which is limited to the
pre-Homeric period, since all Greek “katharsis” is post-Homeric. The
latter dictum is obviously not literally true, as a glance through the
Homeric poems will prove. Homer is aware of the necessity of
purification by water before making prayer or libation to the gods:
Achilles washes his hands and the cups before he pours forth wine
and prays to Zeus,289.1 Telemachos washes his hands in sea-water
before he prays to Athena289.2; and there is a significant account of
the purification of the whole Achaean host after the plague;289.3 as
the later Greeks would have done, the Achaeans throw away into the
sea their λύματα, the infected implements of purification, wool or
whatever they used, that absorbed the evil from them. But it has
been generally observed that Homer does not appear to have been
aware of any need for purification from the stain of bloodshed or
from the ghostly contagion of death. It is true that Odysseus purifies
his hall with fire and sulphur after slaying the suitors, but we are not
sure that the act had any further significance than the riddance of the
smell of blood from the house. Sulphur is there called κακῶν
ἄκος,290.1 “a remedy against evil things”; but we cannot attach any
moral or spiritual sense to κακὰ, nor is Homeric κάθαρσις related, as
far as we can see, to any animistic belief. There is one passage
where Homer’s silence is valuable and gives positive evidence;
Theoklumenos, who has slain a man of his own tribe and fled from
his home, in consequence approaches Telemachos when the latter
is sacrificing and implores and receives his protection: there is no
hint of any feeling that there is a stain upon him, or that he needs
purification, or that his presence pollutes the sacrifice.290.2 All this
would have been felt by the later Greek; and in the post-Homeric
period we have to reckon with a momentous growth of the idea of
impurity and of a complex system of purification, especially in regard
to homicide, leading to important developments in the sphere of law
and morality which I have tried to trace out on other occasions.290.3
But Homer may well be regarded as the spokesman of a gifted race,
the Achaeans, as we call them, on whom the burden of the doctrine
of purification lay lightly, and for whom the ghostly world had
comparatively little terror or interest. Besides the Achaeans,
however, and their kindred races there was the submerged
population of the older culture who enter into the composition of the
various Hellenes of history. Therefore the varied development in the
post-Homeric period of cathartic ideas may be only a renaissance, a
recrudescence of forces that were active enough in the second
millennium. Attica may have been the home where the old tradition
survived, and cathartic rites such as the Thargelia and the trial of the
axe for murder in the Bouphonia have the savour of great antiquity.
May not the Minoan religion of Crete have been permeated with the
ideas of the impurity of bloodshed and the craving for purification
from sin? For at the beginning of the historic period Crete seems to
have been the centre of what may be called the cathartic mission;
from this island came Apollo Delphinios, the divine purifier par
excellence, to this island the god came to be purified from the death
of Python; and in later times, Crete lent to Athens its purifying
prophet Epimenides.291.1 If we believe, then, that the post-Homeric
blood-purification was really a recrudescence of the tradition of an
older indigenous culture, we should use this as another argument for
the view that the Greece of the second millennium was untouched or
scarcely touched by Babylonian influence. For, as we have seen,
purification by blood or from blood appears to have been wholly alien
to Babylonian religious and legal practice.
The ritual of purification belongs as much to the history of magic
as religion. Now, the student of religion is not permitted to refuse to
touch the domain of magic; nor can we exclude its consideration
even from the highest topics of religious speculation. Some general
remarks have already been made291.2 concerning the part played by
magic both in the worship and in the social life of the peoples that we
are comparing. Any exact and detailed comparison would be fruitless
for our present purpose; for, while the knowledge of early Babylonian
magic is beginning to be considerable, we cannot say that we know
anything definite concerning the practices in this department of the
Hellenic and adjacent peoples in the early period with which we are
dealing. From the Homeric poems we can gather little more than that
magic of some kind existed; and that Homer and his gifted audience
probably despised it as they despised ghosts and demons. It is only
by inference that we can venture to ascribe to the earliest period of
the Greek race some of the magic rites that are recorded by the later
writers. It would require a lengthy investigation and treatise to range
through the whole of Greek ritual and to disentangle and expose the
magic element which was undoubtedly there, and which in some
measure is latent in the ritual of every higher religion yet examined.
By way of salient illustration we may quote the ceremonies of the
scapegoat and the φαρμακός,292.1 modes of the magic-transference
of sin and evil; the strewing of sacred food-stuff that is instinct with
divine potency over the fields in the Thesmophoria; the rain magic
performed by the priests of Zeus Lykaios;292.2 we hear at Kleonai of
an official class of “Magi” who controlled the wind and the weather by
spells, and occasionally in their excitement gashed their own hands,
like the priests of Baal;292.3 such blood-magic being explicable as a
violent mode of discharging personal energy upon the outer objects
which one wishes to subdue to one’s will. Another and more thrilling
example of blood-magic is the process of water-finding by pouring
human blood about the earth, a method revealed by an old legend of
Haliartos in Boeotia about the man who desired water, and in order
to find it consulted Delphi, and was recommended by the oracle to
slay the first person who met him on his return; his own young son
met him first, and the father stabbed him with his sword; the
wounded youth ran round about, and wherever the blood dripped
water sprang up from the earth.293.1 No one will now venture to say
that all these things are post-Homeric; the natural view is that they
were an inheritance of crude and primitive thought indigenous to the
land. Many of them belong to world-wide custom; on the other hand,
some of the striking and specialised rites, such as the blood-magic
and the ritual of the φαρμακός, are not found at Babylon.
But before prejudging the question, some salient and peculiar
developments of Babylonian magic ought to be considered. One
great achievement of Mesopotamian civilisation was the early
development of astrology, to which perhaps the whole world has
been indebted for good and for evil, and which was associated with
magic and put to magic uses. Astrological observation led to the
attachment of a magic value to numbers and to certain special
numbers, such as number seven. Whether the Judaic name and
institution of the Sabbath is of Babylonian origin or not, does not
concern our question. But it concerns us to know that the seventh
days, the 14th, the 21st, and 28th of certain months, if not of all,
were sacred at Babylon, and were days of penance and piacular
duties when ordinary occupation was suspended.293.2 We can
discern the origin of the sanctity of this number: the observation of
the seven planets, and the division of the lunar month into four
quarters of seven days. The early Greeks, doubtless, had their
astrological superstitions, as most races have had; the new moon is
naturally lucky, the waning moon unlucky; but no one can discover
any numerical or other principle in the Hesiodic system, which is our
earliest evidence of Hellenic lucky and unlucky days. His scheme is
presented in naïve confusion, and he concludes humorously, “one
man praises one day, one another, and few know anything about
it.”294.1 His page of verse reflects the anarchy of the Greek
calendars; and we should find it hard to credit that either Hesiod or
the legislators that drew up those had sat attentively at the feet of
Babylonian teachers. But a few coincidences may be noted. Hesiod
puts a special tabu on the fifth day of the month; in fact, it is the only
one in his list that is wholly unlucky, a day when it would seem to be
best to do nothing at all, at least outside the house, for on this day
the Erinyes are wandering about.294.2 Now, a Babylonian text
published by Dr. Langdon contains the dogma that on the fifth day of
Nisan “he who fears Marduk and Zarpanit shall not go out to
work.”294.3 This Babylonian rule is the earliest example of what may
be strictly called Sabbatarianism, abstinence from work through fear
of offending the high god. Such would probably not be the true
account of Hellenic feeling concerning the “forbidden days,” which
were called ἀποφράδες or μιαραί.294.4 The high god had issued to
the Hellene no moral commandment about “keeping the Sabbath-
day holy”; his reluctance to do certain work on certain days rested on
a more primitive sentiment concerning them. Thus it was unlucky
both for himself and the city that Alcibiades should return to the
Piraeus when the Plynteria were going on; for this latter was a
cathartic ceremony, and evil influences were abroad. Nor, as
Xenophon declares, would any one venture to engage in a serious
work on this day.295.1 Nor were these μιαραὶ ᾑμέραι, like the seventh
days of the Babylonian months, necessarily days of gloom when
offended deities had to be propitiated; on the contrary, the day of
Χόες was a day of merry drinking and yet μιαρά: in fact, we best
understand the latter phrase by translating it “tabooed,” rather than
“sad” or “gloomy.”295.2
Another coincidence that may arrest attention is that in Hesiod’s
scheme the seventh day of the month was sacred because Apollo
was born on it; and throughout the later period this god maintains his
connection with the seventh day, also apparently with the first, the
fourteenth, and the twentieth of the month.295.3 This almost coincides
with the Sabbatical division of the Babylonian months. But we cannot
suppose that in Hellas these were days of mortification as they were
in the East; else they would not have been associated with the bright
deity Apollo.
Such dubious coincidences, balanced by still more striking
diversities, are but frail supports for the hypothesis of race-contact.
In Babylonian thaumaturgy nothing is more significant than the
magic power of the Word, whether spoken or written: and the Word,
as we have noted, was raised to a cosmic divine power and
possessed inherent creative force.295.4 This is only a reflection upon
the heavens of the human use of the magical or mesmeric word or
set of words. This use of them is found, indeed, all round the globe.
What seems unique in the Mesopotamian culture is that religion,
religious literature, and poetry should have reached so high a pitch
and yet never have risen above or shaken off the magic which is its
constant accompaniment. Men and gods equally use magic against
the demons; the most fervid hymn of praise, the most pathetic litany,
is only part of an exorcism-ritual; and so inevitably does the shadow
of magic dog religion here that Dr. Langdon is justified in his
conjecture296.1 that in a great hymn to Enlil, which contains scarcely