While ultras elsewhere have been stigmatised, violent fans in Macedonia and Serbia exercise influence as well as fear

Nikola says the Komiti boys were defending their turf, but Blerim says it was not theirs to defend. Nikola says the Komiti were heavily outnumbered. Blerim says they hid behind the police.

Nikola and Blerim are in their late teens. They belong to rival gangs of football fans whose rivalry has little to do with football. They do battle with stones and knives, sometimes far away from any stadium or sporting fixtures.

"This is a real war," says Blerim, a talkative, skinny 17-year-old with a precocious interest in politics. He belongs to the Sverceri, the "Smugglers", a band of football fans whose members come from Skopje's ethnic Albanian minority.

"At the stadium, we fight with words," he says. "On the street, we fight with fists. We defend our national identity with our blood."

Nikola, also 17, belongs to the Komiti, a group of hardcore football supporters – ultras – whose members come from Skopje's Macedonian majority.

"When will they stop dishonouring us?" he asks of the ethnic Albanians who blocked an attempt to build a church-shaped structure in a medieval fortress overlooking the city. "No one destroys a church in our Orthodox country."

Football fans are known for brawling and bravado in the stands – but the ultras of the Balkans have also flexed their muscle for political masters.

During the wars of the 1990s, the terraces of the top clubs delivered recruits to paramilitary units across the former Yugoslavia. Most notorious of these were the Tigers, a militia formed largely from Red Star Belgrade hooligans and commanded by the gangster Zeljko Raznatovic – better known as Arkan.

The old militia bosses have since been killed or dispatched to war crimes courts, but the region's new generation of ultras still has notoriety – and a reach that extends far beyond the terraces, into society and politics.

Serbia's hooligans have rioted in protest against gay rights parades, and were recently in the news for racially abusing the players of England's under-21 team.

In Macedonia, meanwhile, outbreaks of hooliganism often follow political skirmishes; the country is governed by a fractious coalition of nationalist parties that rely on each other's support – but are bitter rivals in every other sense. Ethnicity defines the country's politics as sharply as it divides its football ultras.

Exchanges in parliament have set the tone for confrontations in the stadium, and on the streets. Last year, for instance, a row between the coalition parties provoked a clash between the Komiti and the Sverceri in Skopje's ancient fortress.

Symbiotic relationship



Much of Macedonia is in effect partitioned between ethnic Albanians, who make up a quarter of the population, and the Macedonian majority. The country came close to conflict a decade ago, and a peace deal that halted the violence in 2001 gave the ethnic Albanians greater autonomy and authority, as well as a role in the coalition government.

Below the surface, however, tensions simmered. Many Macedonians believe ethnic Albanians have taken more than their fair share from the peace deal. The ethnic Albanians, on the other hand, accuse the Macedonians of steadily undermining the accord.

And where provocative rhetoric has given way to street-fighting, the ultras have been at the frontline.

Several experts told the Balkan Investigative Reporting Network (Birn) that politicians and fan associations are locked in a symbiotic relationship, where patronage is traded for endorsement. The big political parties have historic ties with football clubs and their supporters. But they deny any links with the most violent ultras – and Birn found no evidence to suggest these links exist.

Nevertheless, interviews with fans across the ethnic divide reveal that they regard themselves as the foot soldiers of the nationalist causes that dominate politics. Where the hooligans of western Europe have been stigmatised, the ultras of Macedonia generally expect their activities to enhance their status.

"The doors of local government, companies and political parties are always open to us," said a 22-year-old leader of the Ballisti, supporters of the FK Shkendija club from Tetovo.

Although he has faced several charges of violent behaviour, including involvement in an attack on a police officer, the leader claims he has never spent more than 10 days in custody.

Lazar Nanev, a senior judge who has prosecuted many hooligans, says it is hard to prove a two-way link between politicians and violent ultras. However, many leading fans do seek political patronage. "Some of them want to be identified with political parties in order to achieve personal benefit or privilege," Nanev said. "It is one of the most dangerous things in our society."

Ivan Anastasovski, an academic and former board member of the Macedonian football federation, says parties believe it is in their best interests to maintain good ties with the fans: "They see them as a potential base for voters and activists during the elections."

In return for mobilising support, fan leaders end up with coveted jobs in the public sector, where careers can be boosted by close links with the governing parties.

"Leaders of the Macedonian and ethnic Albanian [fan] groups get good positions in state institutions, the customs administration, the parties, the government," says Mitre Trajkovski, a former police major who was also a security commissioner in the football federation.

Hero worship



The stands where Komiti members watch their team, Vardar Skopje, are often bedecked with banners in support of Johan Tarculovski, a one-time leader of the ultras who is serving a prison term for war crimes. He was convicted by the tribunal in The Hague for the murder in 2001 of seven ethnic Albanians.

The Ballisti, meanwhile, hero-worship ethnic Albanian rebels. This May, a delegation of the ultras travelled to neighbouring Kosovo to pay their respects at a shrine to Adem Jashari, a guerrilla leader killed in 1998. He is regarded as a terrorist by many Serbs.

Hardcore fans take to the streets whenever political tensions rise. After a gruesome cycle of murders this spring that were blamed on ethnic animosity, Komiti members protested against Islamism. The Ballisti joined counter-protests in ethnic Albanian neighbourhoods.

Last year's clash at the fortress erupted after the main Macedonian party in the coalition, VMRO-DPMNE, ordered the construction of a church-like structure where the remains of an earlier church had been found.

The construction site lay within an area that the ethnic Albanians regard as their historic home within the capital. Leaders from the ethnic Albanian party in the coalition, DUI, criticised the plan for an apparently Christian structure in their part of town, and young men from the community tried to stop work at the site.

Macedonians marched to the fortress in protest, with a contingent of Komiti fans, mobilised through internet forums and Facebook, leading the way. There they were met by a crowd of ethnic Albanians – including the Sverceri.

In the ensuing fight, Blerim and Nikola saw themselves as heirs to the men who waged war more than a decade ago.

"I will not allow what he fought for to go to waste," says Blerim, referring to his father, who was with the ethnic Albanian guerrillas in 2001.

Nikola's brother was a soldier in the Macedonian military at the time. "The [Albanians] said they were fighting for human rights – but instead they fought for the creation of a Greater Albania," he says.

Fifty-four fans were arrested – 27 from each side. No one went to jail. The judgments were swift and the penalties identical – a three-month suspended sentence, conditional upon good behaviour. The criminal court in Skopje denies handing down lesser penalties because of political sensitivities. "We do not make political decisions," a spokesman told Birn. "We judge according to the laws alone."

Observers say football clubs supported by Macedonians and ethnic Albanians have a long history of involvement with the major parties. Fans from the Komiti, for instance, formed the backbone of the youth wing of VMRO-DPMNE during the 1990s.

Today, however, the ultras say they do not receive any favours or funding from politicians. The Komiti's written code of conduct, circulated in booklet form, says it welcomes members from across the political spectrum – from anarchists to ultra-nationalists and everyone in between. The booklet insists political affiliations must be left at the door. There must be no division within the ranks.

"Our group includes supporters of several political parties, but we are not an extension of them," says a senior Komiti member. Like most of his comrades, he declined to be named because of the Komiti's strict prohibition against talking to journalists.

The leaders of ethnic Albanian fan groups were also wary of being quoted by name – but were candid about the advantages of their status. A Ballisti leader said he did not believe his many brushes with the law would hamper his prospects.

However, he says, most fans who end up in trouble have to tread carefully. "Supporting football clubs can help us get a job – but the problems with the police are the other side the coin. If you are convicted and have a criminal record, there may be consequences in the future."

Another leader of the Ballisti, speaking on condition of anonymity, claims he only faced a small fine after his trial for assault. "If they had judged me in another country, I could easily have got a serious prison sentence," he says. He says his friends have also got off lightly for violent offences, often without even bothering to attend their trials. Most such cases resulted in suspended sentences or fines, he added.

Organised crime



North of Macedonia lies Serbia, where the links between football hooligans and the parties in government have weakened since their heyday in the 1990s.

Unlike Skopje, Belgrade is not an ethnically divided city. With fewer nationalist conflicts to divert their attention since the breakup of Yugoslavia, Serbia's most powerful ultras have focused on organised crime, using hooliganism as a cover.

Sasa Todorovic, Belgrade police's chief officer responsible for tackling sports-related violence, says the criminal gangs mimic the hierarchy of his force. "There are different ranks from commanders to watchmen, and everyone has a role to play," he says.

The central districts of Belgrade are covered in graffiti proclaiming, "Freedom for the fans" – a reference to the many ultras currently in prison on charges of racketeering, arson, drug trafficking and murder.

"They claim they are motivated by patriotism, by the state or religion, but they only work for financial benefit," says Milan Stanic, chief of Serbia's public order department.

As in Macedonia, many believe the courts grant violent fans greater leniency. Stanic describes the case of a supporter of the Partizan club, who hit an opposing fan in the groin with a baseball bat. "He received a suspended sentence of one year in prison. I doubt if such a penalty will be a corrective to him – or a deterrent to others," he says.

This article was produced as part of the Balkan Fellowship for Journalistic Excellence, an initiative of the Robert Bosch Stiftung and ERSTE Foundation, in co-operation with the Balkan Investigative Reporting Network.