More than 20 years after peace, corruption keeps the war fresh.
This terrible photo was taken as I lived through one of my worst travel nightmares: being pulled over by the police in a foreign country. And yeah, it wasn’t the best.
In the back of a car, late at night, I was making my way to the bus station in Sarajevo with two friends.
It was a bittersweet departure. Sarajevo had stolen my heart; a sublime intertwining of history, culture and cuisine. But it was time to move on to a new city.
My fellow passengers and I still had a few questions about the everyday impact of Bosnia’s fractured post-war politics.
The subject of police corruption and bribery was brought up.
With the heavy sigh of institutionalized patience, our driver explained that despite his penchant for speeding, his license was still valid and relatively clean. He would bribe the police, “very simple,” he said.
I quickly made sure I had my seatbelt fastened.
First-hand witness
About 100 meters from the station, we hit a police stop. I saw cars ahead whizz through — a routine seatbelt check like those back home, or so I thought.
We pulled up to the stop. The police officer peered in our car, his torchlight landing on all of our faces with one sweeping motion. My fellow passengers stared ahead. I tried to focus on my breathing, and I knew in that moment that I would never make a good spy.
Our driver answered questions I did not understand, his tone becoming more and more detached. He suddenly got out of the car. He opened the trunk. The police officer’s torch hit my panic stricken face again as I whipped my head back to see the unfolding commotion. But this was not the time to look suspicious: we had a bus to catch!
The rest of the car sat silent, motionless, as our driver walked with the officer to the police car. We were going to miss the bus.
We stayed silent. Still.
For a minute.
Cautiously, I broke the silence. “What is happening?” — as if they knew!-though it was more of a statement than a question.
Our driver returned after another exhausting minute, threw a piece of paper into the glove compartment and drove on.
We made the bus, but he had received a fine of €20 for failing to have a fire extinguisher in his car. A legal requirement. “They would have found something else to fine me for,” he explained to us.
He was singled out because of his home address.
“That’s the way it is here.”
Though the war ended in 1995, the pain feels fresh. Bosnians live and work in buildings that still display war wounds: bullet holes sprayed across the facade, a daily reminder of how life used to be. Their personal scars hidden, but just as visible.
Despite this, many people want to unify and heal together, but it is not easy when the country is governed by division: three presidents, two police forces, and invisible borders between territories overseen by a different ethnic group.
How corruption is done
According to our driver, police officers can make up to their full monthly salary in one day through bribes by playing on these ethnic divisions.
When pulled over by an ethnic Serbian officer, our driver would give his Serbian-sounding nickname when handing over his documentation to get out of a fine. If it was an older officer, he would subtly offer a bribe — most young police officers are clean, he explained.
A bribe for speeding could range between €30–50, about 10% of an average months salary. Naturally, tourists pay more.
But those who want to complain, don’t; there is a system in place to find you if you do, our driver said.
So Bosnians just get on with it. And daily life goes on.
