In February 2026, the Croatian men’s handball team won bronze at the European Championship. Their planned homecoming in Zagreb’s Ban Jelačić Square became contentious when the team requested that Marko Perković Thompson, a controversial singer with a nationalist background, should perform. The City of Zagreb refused the request, citing his use of fascist symbolism, but the national government overrode the city and organized the event anyway. The homecoming was thus held in Zagreb, with Marko Perković Thompson as a performer, and without the approval of Zagreb’s administration.

While the government argued that its response is a mere technical intervention justified by the handball team’s achievement, it departs from the Croatian Constitution in two ways. First, it arguably violates the vertical separation of powers enshrined by the Constitution. Second, it provides yet another opportunity to relativize hate speech and the constitutional disavowal of fascism. With both factors in play, constitutional democracy in Croatia continues to teeter on the verge of collapse.

Moving the game out of bounds: a violation of the vertical separation of powers

The recent controversy over the scope of local self-government was triggered by Marko Perković, a singer who gained prominence in the early 1990s. At that time, Croatia seceded from Yugoslavia, a process marked by the war between Croatia and the Serbia-controlled Yugoslav National Army (the Homeland War). Nicknamed “Thompson” after the brand of a submachine gun assigned to him during his service in the Croatian armed forces, Marko Perković had a short and uneventful tour of duty. He gained fame for his music, particularly his song “Bojna Čavoglave” (Čavoglave Battalion). Infamously, the song opens with “Za dom spremni” (literally: “For home – ready”). The phrase is closely associated with the so-called Independent State of Croatia (Nezavisna Država Hrvatska – NDH), a satellite state of the Nazi regime. It is thus associated with genocidal policies, especially against Serb nationals, and is widely recognized as hate speech. Thompson’s frequent use of the greeting led to the City of Zagreb pushing back against his performance. The government’s response to Zagreb’s efforts sparked the controversy over the extent of the powers of local self-government.

The Croatian Constitution enshrines a vertical separation of powers, providing that local self-government is a limitation on the powers of the central state. Local self-government is also defined as a constitutionally enshrined right, in accordance with articles 2 and 3 of the European Charter of Local Self-Government. Consequently, any limitation of local self-government must be provided by law, have a legitimate aim, and be proportionate. In addition, given the requirements of the vertical separation of powers, any attempt to regulate the powers and the structure of the units of local self-government must conform to the principle of subsidiarity.

In accordance with these constitutional fundamentals, the legislation governing communal economy authorizes units of local self-government to issue permits for the use of a public space in their jurisdiction. The City of Zagreb is – besides being Croatia’s capital – a unit of local self-government. It thus has the power to control the use of its public spaces. Any limitation of this power would require a legislative amendment with a legitimate aim, conforming to the standards of proportionality and subsidiarity.

When the government decided to organize the handball team’s homecoming, it issued an executive act that empowered several ministries and subordinate bodies to organize the event with the Croatian Handball Federation. Crucially, the government proceeded without obtaining a permit for the use of the central city square, apparently because the Croatian Handball Federation had already acquired a permit and Zagreb did not withdraw it. Thus, the government and some commentators argued that the intervention only supported the Croatian Handball Federation’s legal effort to organize the homecoming. For instance, Jasna Omejec, a former member of Croatia’s Constitutional Court and a professor of administrative law, argued that the government’s intervention was justified by an overwhelming national interest, the celebration of the bronze medal. In her view, the City of Zagreb had failed to take all the legal steps to cancel the homecoming and challenge the government. Thus, for Omejec, the government had the power to assist the Croatian Handball Federation. Although her arguments point to Zagreb’s poor use of legal expertise, their lopsided nature depicts the government almost as a Schmittian sovereign, capable of setting up a state of exception in the name of an amorphous “political interest”. The position she advocates justifies one illegality by positing another, all the while failing to provide constitutional limits to the government’s power.

The government’s attempts to invoke a national interest found little purchase in the opposition-controlled Zagreb. The speaker of the capital’s city assembly has already appealed to the Constitutional Court to intervene. The request, however, was not filed as a constitutional complaint against an alleged violation of a constitutional right, specifically the right to local self-government. Furthermore, the city assembly had not yet attempted to bring the legality of the government’s move before the administrative judiciary, which is a prerequisite for a successful constitutional complaint in this case. The Court thus refused to consider the controversy, finding that it was not yet ready for review.

Making the rules of the game irrelevant: relativizing hate speech

The government’s intervention should also be viewed against the constitutional prohibition of hate speech and the constitutional disavowal of fascist regimes of Croatia’s past, enshrined in the Constitution’s preamble. Thompson’s use of “Za dom spremni”, a fascist symbol, makes this a necessity. His insistence on keeping it a part of his repertoire is supported by a more general effort to romanticize the NDH era, portraying it as an unfortunately failed attempt at independent Croatian statehood, thwarted by Yugoslavia’s communist oppression after the Second World War.

Marko Perković rides the coattails of broader memory politics that Croatia’s dominant political party, the Croatian Democratic Union (Hrvatska demokratska zajednica – HDZ), has long sought to exploit. Although the party never fully embraced efforts to whitewash the NDH regime, propped up by fascist and Nazi forces in the Second World War, it showed sympathy when it was politically convenient. Thus, in the 1990s, paramilitary troops that used Ustasha symbolism were integrated into the Croatian armed forces, even as the governing regime at the time did distance itself from NDH. The first president of Croatia, also HDZ’s first leader, was one of Tito’s last generals and occasionally signaled that pro-Ustasha sentiments are incompatible with Croatia’s transitional ambitions. However, the controversial insignia was never completely disavowed. On the contrary, some of the veterans’ associations continued to use “Za dom spremni” in their official paraphernalia well after the war – and still do today. By consequence, in contemporary Croatia some argue that the greeting carries “double meanings”, suggesting it has partly shed its fascist connotations through Croatia’s struggle in the Homeland War and can now be used as a badge of patriotism. The HDZ did not discount the interpretation but used it opportunistically to gain the support of the far right.

In the months preceding the homecoming controversy, state officials, such as the Prime Minister, also the head of the HDZ, as well as the Speaker of the Parliament, argued that “Za dom spremni” constitutes a legitimate form of speech. The Speaker attended Thompson’s concert at the Zagreb Hippodrome in July 2025, and the Prime Minister visited that concert’s rehearsal with his children. The concert attracted a crowd of hundreds of thousands and saw the display of fascist symbols, including the Ustasha greeting. Despite the Croatian Constitution’s preambular disavowal of NDH, the argument that “Za dom spremni” is legitimate has thus strongly resurged.

The homecoming controversy is yet another episode in this struggle over historical memory. After the Hippodrome concert, the City of Zagreb sought to counter the further rehabilitation of NDH by preventing Thompson from performing in city-controlled spaces. Its city assembly has adopted a declaratory act that calls for the mayor to take all necessary measures to remove fascist symbolism from public and city-owned spaces. For this reason, Thompson was forbidden from participating in the homecoming. By overriding the mayor’s decision to enforce this policy, the government also challenged the interpretation that “Za dom spremni” is a fascist symbol. It has done so in a climate of historical revisionism, in which interpretations of Croatia’s past, in particular the Homeland War, have remained a central instrument of political mobilization, as HDZ seeks to consolidate support among the far-right electorate.

The results: scores beyond bounds

Even as the legal consequences of violating the vertical separation of powers remain uncertain, the controversy exposes the highly precarious mosaic of Croatian constitutionalism. Some far-right actors have recently called for a new law that would regulate “permissible truths” about Croatia’s history. Although the legislative project is unlikely to pass parliament, calls to restrict certain speech and academic work are gaining political traction. Coupled with consistent attacks against the media, minorities of all kinds, and the downplaying of any form of critical thought, the constitution of the EU’s latest member state faces heightened uncertainty.

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