Iva Čukić, an architect dedicated to the principles of spatial justice and the democratization of urban development, connects professional knowledge and the common interests of citizens through her work to shape cities more justly. As one of the founders of the Ministry of Space collective, she actively participates in movements that advocate for different, inclusive models of spatial management.
As part of this year's KotorArt, Iva Čukić is one of the participants in the two-day debate program "Pjaca od filozofa", which will be held on July 17th and 18th at the Creative Hub Kotor. The program transforms city squares into contemporary agoras for reflection on identity, memory and community in contemporary cities. Inspired by the attitudes Bogdan Bogdanović, who saw the city as a unique space for the encounter of memories, meanings and dreams, this year's Philosophers' Square focuses attention on the question: what makes a city a city: its identity, traces of the past and visions of the future.
On the first day, July 17, the topic of the discussion will be "The City as an Archive of Memory and Change", and the participants will be: a historian, a writer, and a publicist. Dragan Markovina, writer and president of the KROKODIL Association Vladimir Arsenijevic, the andragog Barbara Obradovic PajicThe moderator of the conversation is Milica NikolićOn the second day, July 18, the focus is on “The City as a Community and Activism”, in which, in addition to Iva Čukić, playwright will participate. Aleksandar Radunović and PhD candidate at the Department of Urbanism and Architecture at the University Institute of Lisbon, member of the group KANA/who if not an architect Sonja Dragovic, a moderator with Aleksandra Kapetanović i Tatjana Rajic.
The conversation with Iva Čukić took place before the news was published that Kotor was facing the possibility of being inscribed on the List of World Heritage in Danger. This circumstance further confirms how important and urgent the themes of this year's Philosophers' Square, the identity of the city, memory and community, are at a time when the fate of Kotor is being decided at the international level.
How do you see the relationship between citizens and the city today in the context of contemporary urban transformations?
We live in a moment when the city, and the space as a whole, is seen solely as an element of extraction, both economic and political. There is great pressure from capital, institutions are weakened and captured, and citizens do not feel they can do anything.
Despite these challenges, do you notice changes or resistances that are bringing back the idea of the city as a shared space?
Yes, there are a growing number of initiatives that are trying to reverse that relationship so that the city once again becomes a shared space, a space of care, solidarity, and responsibility. That space between institutional closure and civic activism is precisely the space of our action.
Did you have a personal moment or experience in which you clearly felt that the “city” became the theme of your engagement, no longer just a space for design, but a space of struggle, togetherness, resistance?
How could I not? Unfortunately, during my first job in architectural practice, I learned something that no one tells you at university. I graduated with a degree in design, with the idea that I would create spaces that improve people's everyday lives, but I quickly entered a world where decisions about space are made far from those who live in it and where the architect often becomes just an executor of someone else's will.
How did that experience influence your further professional path and your view of the role of an architect in society?
It then became clear to me that the city is not just an object of design, but a field of power, resistance and struggle. And that is exactly what redirected me towards urban planning and a doctorate in that field. Through further research and practical work, a new horizon opened up for me: that power can be “broken”, citizens can and must be empowered to participate, professional knowledge must be put at the service of the common good and public interest. Then, for me, the development of the city becomes a political issue - a place where we shape not only buildings and spaces, but also relationships, values and futures, which brings with it great responsibility, but also extraordinary fulfillment.
In the context of the city as a community, informal practices of solidarity care are increasingly prominent - from neighborhood initiatives and local networks to temporary spaces of joint action. Can such forms of organization become the foundation of more lasting and just models of urban governance? How can we imagine a city in which the community plays not only an advisory, but also a decisive role in spatial development?
I believe that informal practices are the foundation of more equitable models of urban development management. This was the topic of my PhD, and I have researched hundreds of examples that confirm this. They arise in response to existing crises with the intention of offering different solutions to numerous spatial issues, from urban gardens, through cooperative housing, self-organized cultural centers, to community land funds. All these examples show that a community can function without hierarchy, without a classic power structure, but with a high degree of responsibility and care. It is from them that we can learn how to make cities more open, fair and resilient through a real distribution of power. Imagining a city in which the community decides does not mean romanticizing participation, but changing relationships: from control to trust, from representation to co-shaping everyday life and the future.
Is there a danger that the term “community” will be idealized or misused in urban policies?
Often, this term hides paternalistic or even manipulative practices. Working with the community cannot be reduced to PR slogans and simulated consultations, it involves a long-term process of building trust, recognizing different voices and actively working on resolving conflicts. What we most often witness are various forms of abuse in order to legitimize already made decisions.
How to distinguish authentic common interest from populist appeals to togetherness?
From our fifteen years of experience working with more than a hundred local initiatives (and now councils) in Belgrade, but also throughout Serbia, we know that authentic common interest is built over time, through continuous education, communication, empowerment and creating a space in which different voices can truly be heard. In order to create the conditions for something like this, we have created a series of tools aimed at educating and empowering people - guides, an online platform where current plans and all relevant information are available, manuals for reading plans, we organize workshops in settlements to familiarize citizens with the contents of plans and explain procedures. We have gone a step further, launched and implemented several citizens' assemblies in Belgrade, precisely with the intention of making this deliberation happen. So that conflicts are not avoided, but managed, so that common problems are politicized and not reduced to technical issues. This process is slow, complex, and can be unpleasant, but it is precisely in this openness and readiness for dialogue that lies the possibility for the community to become a political entity capable of shaping the city.
Spatial justice is one of the central issues in your work. Where, in your opinion, are the most visible forms of spatial injustice in the cities of the former Yugoslavia today?
Spatial justice is one of the fundamental issues for us, because space is not neutral. At the same time, it is both an indicator of the values of a society and a means of shaping them. I think the biggest defeat of this society is that every few dozen meters we have betting shops, then luxury housing that we don't even know belongs to, squares that serve to "park" money of problematic origin, privatized public spaces and concrete parks. Everything has become a commodity traded by political elites in conjunction with big capital. So many times we have heard government representatives justifying a decision with "good conditions for investors", so where are the rest of us? Should they go? Leave them to sell off and destroy what belongs to all of us? And that is precisely why people rose up and said "enough is enough".
Through its actions, the Ministry of Space It persistently points to deep-rooted inequalities in access to housing, public spaces and infrastructure. What do you see as a sign of hope in the context of this struggle - is there room for resistance, connection and different models?
Spatial injustice does not only affect cities. Horror of epic proportions is taking place in rural areas, through the exploitation of raw materials and the violent usurpation of natural resources. Just look at Bor, where people paid with their own health, or the Jadra Valley, where an entire region is planned to disappear for the sake of a “green transition” that is not. That is not development. That is the colonial model of the 21st century, in which both nature and people are consumable goods.
Yet hope does not disappear. The resistance in Jadar, as well as the struggles in Kruščica, Ulcinj, Sinjajevina, and dozens of other places across the region, show that the people will no longer remain silent. People are connecting, organizing, learning from each other. They are making politics from below. These are places where a different future is being built, and not only through resistance, but also through solidarity, care, and the belief that the cities, mountains, rivers, and fields belong to all of us. And that only together can we defend and preserve them for generations to come.
Does urban activism have the power to change official urban policies? Or does it remain merely a corrective to a system that is essentially closed to citizen participation?
Urban activism often begins as a reaction to devastation, injustice, exploitation, and the usurpation of quality of life. And in that initial form, it truly acts as a corrective, that is, an attempt to stop a harmful decision or correct the damage done. If it remains only at that level, then its power is limited. But when activism grows into long-term organizing, into the creation of knowledge, structures, alliances, and political language - then it is no longer just a corrective, but a political force. This is where we see our mission: to connect and transform professional knowledge and community experience into proposals that change the rules of the game, not just individual plans.
The system is often closed, bureaucratized, and politically instrumentalized, making real citizen participation difficult. But every breakthrough, every battle won, pushes the boundaries of what is possible. And that is the power of activism.
The Creative Hub in Kotor, located in the former prison, is a great example of the reactivation and transformation of urban space into a place of dialogue, creativity and togetherness. The Ministry of Space collective is known for such initiatives that combine spatial justice with social engagement. How do you see the importance of such spaces for the development of critical thinking and activist action in cities? What can the Creative Hub in Kotor, as the location of the Philosopher's Square, symbolize in the broader context of the city's memory and future?
Spaces like the Creative Hub in Kotor have great potential to become places of encounter, dialogue and co-creation, especially when they arise in contexts that carry strong historical and symbolic weight. But precisely because of this, their transformation must not be reduced to just physical renovation or attractive reinterpretation. The former prison is not an empty frame for artistic content. It is a space of memories, traumas and injustices that still live in collective memory today.
In such cases, the memory of a place must be an integral part of the new meaning of the space, not as a decoration or homage, but as an active component of its identity. Otherwise, we risk erasing what should actually be acknowledged, processed and turned into a basis for dialogue. That is why it is important that in any repurposing, especially in places with a complex historical heritage, we do not forget that space is not just an environment, but a social factor.
Throughout our work, we have never talked only about reactivating abandoned buildings, but about creating common goods - spaces that are open, accessible and shaped according to the real needs of the community. This also implies different models of governance: horizontal, transparent and inclusive. KC Magacin in Belgrade is one of the best examples - a cultural and social center that has been managed by a community of users for more than a decade. Without a director, without hierarchy, with more than a hundred organizations and thousands of free programs per year, it functions thanks to solidarity, openness, trust and collective responsibility. It shows that different models are both possible and sustainable.
In Serbia, in recent years, we have witnessed an increasingly open neglect, even destruction, of cultural and urban assets for the sake of private and political interests. How do you see the role of civil resistance in moments when institutions give up their protective function?
In authoritarian regimes, we can hardly speak of institutions in the classical sense, as independent, responsible bodies whose function is to protect the public interest. Where there is no institutional autonomy, where all mechanisms are reduced to an extended arm of government, expecting institutions to stand up for public goods, cultural heritage, or the people themselves is naive and illusory.
We see this clearly in Serbia today. Instead of determining responsibility for the tragedy that struck the entire society eight months ago, we are witnessing arrests and beatings of students and high school students, intimidation, political pressure, blackmail and attempts to criminalize and extinguish every spark of organized resistance. But authoritarian regimes always resort to force when they feel their ground shifting, when they are afraid of the energy that comes “from below”, from the streets, from the people, their reaction is violent. Which is not a manifestation of strength, but of panic.
At the same time, it is the moment when resistance ceases to be a matter of choice and becomes a necessity and a moral responsibility. Anyone with any integrity cannot afford to be passive. If you agree to silence, you become part of a mechanism that destroys everything that tries to remain human. And if you remain silent, while you see violence, lies and evil - in the end, nothing makes sense anymore. That is why resistance is a duty. Not out of rebellion for its own sake, but out of the need not to lose ourselves. In resistance, people recognize each other, stand by each other, learn to care, to think, to remember. And they do this to restore dignity and create the conditions so that something like this never happens again.
How do you see the attitude of the authorities in the region towards space as a public good - whether we are talking about urban areas, cultural heritage, landscapes or monuments? Is the absence of institutional protection actually part of a broader policy that erases memory and common identity?
I think it is a systemic policy of erasure and rewriting, which is both symbolic and strategic. New heroes are invented, real ones are devalued, periods are stigmatized, histories are written from scratch and invented. This is a process that has been going on for 30 years, in which dominant political structures are trying to change collective memory in order to strengthen their own legitimacy. So, forgetting the past in order to discipline the future. And that is not accidental. The goal of such a policy is to maintain society in a state of conflict, constant fragmentation, caution and disconnection. Such a society is easier to control. There is no solidarity, no common language, no trust. And without that, there is no political articulation, no resistance.
Do you believe that examples of fighting for the public interest, such as the protests over the concreting of Kalemegdan, the demolition in Savamala, but also local initiatives in Montenegro, are a sign of the creation of a new urban consciousness? Where do you see space for the spread of that energy and solidarity?
I believe they are. I may sound like an incorrigible optimist (which I am), but in each of these examples I see clear signs of the creation of a new urban consciousness. People are increasingly recognizing space as a political issue, realizing that they have the right to participate, to decide, to say “no” when the city is shaped against their interests. Everywhere we see people who do not wait for permission to get involved, but rather open up space for action themselves. I know from experience that this energy is not fleeting, because the experience of a joint struggle is extremely powerful, and it changes the relationship to space, but also to community, responsibility and sharing. Space for expansion exists where people connect - in the neighborhood, on the street, at gatherings. Wherever there is trust and the will to change things, that is where this new urban consciousness develops. And I believe that it will grow.
You come to KotorArt as a speaker, but also as someone who literally raises their voice through singing with the children from Svratishte in the Svi UGLAS choir. What does it mean to you to be part of a festival where the voice is not only an artistic expression, but also an act of togetherness, resistance and hope? Can the choir, as a space where different people gather, become a microcity, a community in which a different model of sociability is practiced and listened to?
It's one of my favorite places! When you sing with others, especially children, it's the purest form of togetherness.
I believe in the power of a voice. Everyone has one. Some people speak up earlier, more confidently, louder, others need support and encouragement to let their voice be heard. That's why it's important to create conditions in which even the silent, the invisible, the afraid - will find their voice. The next step is to learn to listen to each other. From that space of understanding and trust, we can create a miracle!
Bonus video:
