consumer and visualcultures were born, gazes that partition the globe into national cultures and expect essentialised representations of identity from each (but the most tradition-bound zones most of all) originate from the same fin-de-siècle international expositions (Bolin 2006 ) at which white Europeans as gazing audiences could form first-hand stereotypes of Africans and indigenous peoples (Pieterse 1992 : 94–7; Blanchard, Boëtsch and Jacomijn Snoep 2011 ; Novikova 2013 ). The conclusion is more complex than saying the stereotypes the West projects on to eastern
' exhibitions (see Deroo and Fournié 2011 ) would nevertheless have disseminated these anthropological aesthetics further into Habsburg visualculture, including to Zagreb.
Nostalgic notions of ‘peaceful and unambitious’ (Bach 2016 : 22) Habsburg imperialism, outside the European colonial mainstream, fall down against evidence of how nineteenth-century Habsburg officials and writers imagined a civilising mission in south-east Europe comparable to other powers in Africa and Asia (Fuchs 2011 ), and of Habsburg entanglements in colonialism overseas (Sauer
/cultural identity. Both countries' military visualcultures – anticipated in Croatia by volunteers who, before the Croatian Army was regularised in January 1992, equipped themselves through surplus stores including Zagreb's (still-trading) ‘American Shop’ – drew on impressions of the contemporaneous US military freshly reimagined, post-Vietnam, by late-Cold-War film-makers as well as the US military itself (Senjković 2002 ). By 1994, with the Clinton administration (relatively) more involved in Bosnia, Slovenia had joined NATO's ‘Partnership for Peace’ (NATO's programme for