Manuel Férez, Alberto Hurtado University, Chile Between 2020 and 2025, the Balkan region experienced an unprecedented wave of civil mobilisations: environmental protests against lithium mining in Serbia, anti-corruption demonstrations in Bosnia, social unrest in Albania, and student movements in Montenegro. These mobilisations, however, remain virtually invisible in Latin American academia, media, and cultural institutions—despite striking parallels with recent Latin American protests such as Chile's 2019 social explosion, the 2021 demonstrations in Argentina and Colombia, and ongoing citizen mobilisations in Mexico.  Photo: Unsplash/Bree Anne This article examines this intellectual and artistic gap through a dual analysis of two leading Latin American journals (Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica and Letras Libres) and Balkan-related exhibitions in museums across Chile, Argentina, and Mexico. By exposing how Latin American public discourse reduces the Balkans to either a frozen narrative of 1990s trauma or a nostalgic account of successful immigration, this study proposes concrete pathways for establishing a South–South dialogue that recognises contemporary Balkan civil agency as a mirror for Latin America's own struggles for environmental justice and democratic resilience. The research project focuses on analysing how Latin American academia has processed, researched and reflected on civil society mobilisations in the Balkan countries, using Chile, Argentina and Mexico as case studies for accessibility reasons, and how it has presented the Balkans to the general public. Part One: an analysis of two widely circulated specialist journals in which Latin American academics publish Why analyze Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica and Letras Libres? Although other popular science magazines focusing on international affairs are available in Spanish, I have chosen Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica and Letras Libres due to their extensive circulation throughout Latin America and Spain. These academic journals are widely consulted and cited by Latin American students and academics working on international issues. They publish exceptional academic articles written by scholars from institutions across Latin America. Therefore, analyzing the content of these publications will help us understand perspectives, themes, and voices concerning the Balkans. Foreign Affairs Latinoamerica (FAL) This academic journal is the result of a collaboration between the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) and the Instituto Tecnológico Autónomo de México (ITAM). Since its inception in 2000 as Foreign Affairs en Español, the journal has provided a platform for discussing significant international issues, with a particular focus on Latin America. It has established itself as a leading forum for Ibero-American perspectives on global affairs, encouraging diverse approaches and the highest standards of critical thinking. The journal is published every three months and has a circulation of 5,000 copies, which are distributed throughout Latin America, the United States, and Spain. Letras Libres (LL) Founded in 1999, Letras Libres is a monthly magazine of criticism and creation and the heir to the tradition and spirit of Vuelta, the magazine founded by Octavio Paz. With editions in Mexico and Spain, Letras Libres brings together leading thinkers to address urgent global issues, while offering readers samples of the finest prose and poetry. The Letras Libres website has evolved to offer a wide range of content, catering to diverse interests, voices, and forms of expression. FAL Published on 10 October 2022, the article The Balkans Facing Enigmas and Interventions was the only piece dedicated exclusively to the Balkans published by FAL. This article provides an overview of the political situation in the Balkans, with a particular focus on foreign interventions. The author, Mauricio D. Aceves, holds a degree in International Relations from the University of the Valley of Mexico (UVM), as well as a master’s degree in public security and public policy from the IEXE School of Public Policy. However, he does not cite any specialised bibliography on the Balkans, nor does he demonstrate any formal study of the region. The topics that included references to the Balkans can be grouped into the following categories: international order and international organisations; European issues (mainly elections and security matters); NATO; and the wars in Gaza and Ukraine. Additionally, there was one article dedicated to the Coronavirus and another to MERCOSUR that mentioned Balkan countries. In the category of international order and international organisations, notable articles included Requiem for 1991: From Hope to Global Uncertainty (9 December 2021), The Paradox of Funding a Refugee Crisis without Refugees (13 July 2020), Why International Organisations and Multilateralism Matter (29 November 2021), Diplomatic Saints (3 July 2023), Recent Log of (Illegal) Politics (12 January 2023), Towards a New Global Model of Security and Defence (28 March 2022) and Central Asia: The Path to International Order (27 April 2022). An analysis of the content of these articles reveals that the Balkans and the countries that comprise it were only mentioned in passing and as examples of dynamics related to the international order and/or the actions of international organisations. In another section entitled 'European Issues', articles were compiled addressing European issues that also mentioned the Balkans in some way. Cyprus at the Schengen Crossroads (24 July 2025) mentions the Balkans as an area that could be affected by Cyprus's political dynamics, while The 2024 European Elections (20 June 2024), The Security of the European Union (19 August 2020), Euroscepticism isn't shining, but it's not slowing down either (11 July 2024) and Eurovision 2025: Anxiety, Hatred and Resilience (29 May 2025) mention countries such as Bulgaria, North Macedonia and Serbia as part of the debate on the European defence system, the European Parliament elections and the growth of Euroscepticism among young Europeans. Initially, it was thought that it would be interesting to compare the media coverage of Gaza and Ukraine with that of the Balkans. However, throughout the entire analysed period, only three articles were found in Foreign Affairs that did so: Russia: A Challenge for the West' (11 May 2020), From Gaza to Kyiv (8 January 2024) and Ukraine and International Law (1 March 2022). The first article mentions the Balkans as one of the early challenges to the European order and its relationship with Russia. The other two articles focus on aspects of international law in Gaza and Ukraine, set against the backdrop of the history of the Balkans during and after the breakup of Yugoslavia. The other two articles focus on aspects of international law in Gaza and Ukraine, set against the backdrop of the history of the Balkans during and after the breakup of Yugoslavia. Three other general topics addressed or mentioned the Balkans. The first was NATO, with the article NATO's Role in the Conflict Between Russia and Ukraine (7 December 2022), which focuses on the conflict between Russia and Ukraine and mentions the Balkans as a historical reference for NATO's political and military action.  The Political Repercussions of the Coronavirus Pandemic Worldwide (13 May 2020) references Bulgaria and the impact of the virus in the country. Finally, Ratification of the Agreement between the European Union and Mercosur (22 January 2024) specifically mentions Macedonia in the context of the rapprochement between the European Union and Mercosur. LL - 16 articles Unlike the journal FAL, which focuses almost exclusively on the analysis of international conflicts and dynamics, LL adopted a more diverse approach to the Balkans, covering literature, culture, music and history. Two articles published before 2020 are included in LL's count. These articles offer expert perspectives on the Balkans and are therefore included. Five articles dedicated to the Balkans were found in LL (two of which were published before 2020), as well as a further 16 articles that indirectly addressed topics related to the Balkans with a different central theme. The two articles published before 2020 were I Don't Want Serbia to Be the Russian Gibraltar in the Balkans: Interview with Dragan Velikić (June 30, 2017) and The Balkans: Aftermath of War (March 31, 2002). The first article is an interview with Velikić, who expresses concern that Serbia will become a Russian Gibraltar. The second article, written by David Rieff, discusses his experience as a journalist during the siege of Sarajevo and the main forms of entertainment there (alcohol, tobacco, sex, and conversation). Three articles focused on the Balkans during the analyzed period: In The Political Thriller of Serbia (1991–2025), Javier González-Cotta discusses the history of Serbia as if it were a political thriller. The article describes the power struggles in the streets of Serbia and how they defined the social character of the Serbian people and influenced national audiovisual production. In A Manual for Killing Flies (March 19, 2025), Carlos Hortelano examines the work of Croatian writer Slavenka Drakulić. Drakulić was present in The Hague in 2003 to attend the trials following the Balkan Wars, and she captured her experience there in her book They Wouldn't Kill a Fly. In his July 3, 2024, publication, A Brief Dictionary of Kadare, Mauricio Montiel Figueiras discusses the work of Albanian writer Ismail Kadare. These three articles are noteworthy because they offer readers reflections on the works of Balkan authors and those of a journalist who was present during the Yugoslavian war. However, they do not address the current situation in the region. The 16 articles published in LL that mentioned the Balkans or countries within it were divided into two categories: culture (literature, visual arts) and political situation. Articles like A Journey Through Greece and Albania with a Child and a Reflection on the Ubiquity of War, Guided by Homer and Ismail Kadare by Iván Hurtado, y Zülfü Livaneli Revisits History in a Novel by Jean Meyer (August 1, 2025) in which he discusses Livaneli's book “Riding the Tiger”, which focuses on Ottoman Sultan Abdul Hamid II; and Precise Literary Mechanism by Gonzalo Gragera (April 28, 2022) in which he discusses the Spanish publication of “The Poisonous Mirrors”, a collection of unpublished stories by Serbian writer Milorad Pavic (1929–2009) exemplify Letras Libres' literary approach to the Balkans The second category of articles focuses on political issues. Authoritarians are winning the game. Interview with David Rieff by León Krauze (April 1, 2025); Doubling Down: A Western Strategy for Ukraine and Itself by various authors (March 7, 2025) and War, the epidemic we don't see coming by Daniel Delisau (July 1, 2024) are examples of articles published by LL that included the Balkans in contemporary topics such as the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the emergence of armed conflicts. In Populism Through the Looking Glass, Christopher Dominguez Michael (September 1, 2024) finds similarities between López Obrador's style of governing in Mexico and that of leaders such as Narendra Modi (India), Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (Turkey), and Viktor Orbán (Hungary), while Ibsen Martínez, in Petkoff, Bulgaria, and the Weapons of Algiers (August 1, 2024), reflects on Petkoff and his political transformations from a Latin American perspective. These two articles aim to find similarities and political affinities between countries such as Hungary and Bulgaria and Latin America. Special attention should be given to Branko Milanovic's articles published in LL. These articles were translated into Spanish because they had previously been published elsewhere. Milanovic, a regular contributor to LL, authorizes the magazine to publish Spanish versions of his contributions to other media outlets. Before the police arrive: bookstores on Saturdays (February 25, 2024); Democracy of Convenience, Not by Choice: Why Eastern Europe Is Different (February 1, 2022) and A Communist Party in a Turbulent Era and a Difficult Country (April 23, 2020) showcase Milanovic's reflections on topics ranging from the literature he read as a child in his home country to thoughts on the future of Eastern Europe and the adaptations of communism worldwide. Milanovic is a notable Balkan author whose columns are regularly published in LL. The Transformation of War Journalism (July 1, 2024), in which Marga Zambrana reflects on changes in the journalism industry dedicated to armed conflicts; Global Sepharad (October 1, 2021) by Ricardo Dudda, in which recounts the history of the Levy family, Balkan Jews, and their experiences at the beginning of the 20th century; The Maturity of Balkan Literature in Spanish (April 22, 2021) in which Miguel Roán discusses the increase in the number of books in Spanish published by authors from the Balkans; and Madrid-Pristina Connection: The Spanish Passion of the Kosovars (July 8, 2020) by Juan Manuel Montoro, who reflects on Spain's non-recognition of Kosovo's independence, complete the list of LL articles that address the Balkans to some extent. Analysis of the FAL and the LL Taken overall the two sources' primary similarity is their limited focus on contemporary events and the social, political, cultural, and economic dynamics of Balkan countries. Although LL, with its broader scope, included articles that addressed contemporary Balkan affairs to some extent, the lack of intellectual attention struck me given to current social trends in the Balkans by both sources. It should be noted that the Balkans are not a central theme for either publication. One possible reason for this marginal interest is the absence of Latin American specialists in the region and Balkan diaspora communities in Latin America.  Another similarity is the focus of the articles in both publications. A perspective on international relations and history takes precedence, with social issues relegated to a secondary role. While LL tries to showcase the region's cultural and artistic aspects, its political analyses tend to focus on Yugoslavia or the Balkan countries' relationships with the European Union, Russia, or the U.S. rather than on internal social tensions within each country. The limited attention that FAL pays to the Balkans, and to its constituent countries in particular, was surprising. Before this research, I had assumed I would find more articles on the subject, given that FAL is the Spanish-language magazine in Latin America that focuses the most on international issues. All of the authors in FAL are Latin American and come from academic fields including international relations, history, Latin American studies, international security studies, international law, and political science. The articles did not cite any specialized bibliography on the Balkans, and none of the authors appeared to have undertaken specialized studies on the region. Meanwhile, LL has the advantage of featuring Branko Milanovic, a Serbian-American economist from the Balkans who provides historical and economic insights on the region. Milanovic authored three articles in which Yugoslavia and its economic and political contradictions were central themes. Javier González-Cotta's article, The Political Thriller of Serbia (1991–2025) (June 2, 2025), was the only one to address the current social unrest in Serbia and its connection to cultural expressions, such as audiovisual production. The absence of academic references in the FAL articles, which offered general reflections on the political positions of Balkan countries, was notable. This lack of specialized academic literature was especially apparent in a journal that promotes academic thought and research, making it worth considering the reasons for this absence, which will be addressed in the second part of this research. LL's contribution to the cultural sphere was valuable and noteworthy. Two articles discussed the work of Croatian writer Slavenka Drakulić, and another examined Balkan literature translated into Spanish. These articles demonstrate that it is possible to publish content about the Balkans that engage readers and goes beyond topics related to international politics. LL frequently addressed topics such as Kosovo, the war in the former Yugoslavia, democratization processes, and the emergence of authoritarian leaders; in contrast, FAL tended to focus its publications on international issues, incorporating some mentions of the Balkans into these dynamics. _________________________________________________________________________ Part Two: The presence of the topic in museums in Chile, Argentina and Mexico Chile: Museum of Croatian Immigration in Magallanes (Punta Arenas): permanent exhibition exclusively on Croatian immigration (19(th)-20(th) centuries), emphasising their economic and social contributions to Patagonia. Regional Museum of Magallanes – secondary mention in the immigrants' hall. Argentina: Muntref Museum of Immigration (Buenos Aires): archival and bibliographic references to Croatian and Yugoslavian immigration. Mitre Museum: temporary exhibition “Serbia 1914: The Female Face of the Great War”. Mexico: Museum of Memory and Tolerance in Mexico City has a permanent exhibition called 'Former Yugoslavia', featuring maps, photographs of Sarajevo, and testimonies of the Bosnian genocide (1992–1995). Findings and analysis As with the publications of FAL and LL, museums present a rigid historical narrative that freezes the Balkans at two specific points in time: the early Balkanic (Croatian) immigration of the 19th and 20th centuries, and the Yugoslav wars of the 1990s.  This curatorial choice reflects both the lack of Latin American specialists in Balkan studies and the limited influence of the contemporary Balkan diaspora. While museums commemorating other tragedies often maintain educational programmes that connect the past with the present, the Balkans are reduced to static display cases. Consequently, the Latin American public is presented with a fossilised image of the region: either as a place of successful immigrants to Latin America or as a distant tragedy, but never as a living space of civic agency. The case of the Croatian diaspora in Chile is paradigmatic in understanding how the presence of an influential migrant community can paradoxically contribute to the 'freezing' of the image of its region of origin in the recipient's imagination.  According to Marinkovic Contreras's (2018) research, this community has historically exerted significant pressure and influence to secure state recognition and legitimise its national identity within Chile. This narrative of success and recognition, centred on integration and contribution to national development, is reflected in a regional museum exhibition which highlights the epic story of migration and the milestones of the 20th century.  However, by adopting the 'geographical perspective' defined by Kraser et al. (2016) as being rooted in the history of socio-spatial conflicts and fragmentation, these institutions reduce the complexity of Southeastern Europe to a static territory of origin. Consequently, while contemporary cultural production attempts to process traces of the post-war period up to the present day, public narratives in the Southern Cone and Mexico remain fixated on the nostalgia of migration or the trauma of the 1990s wars.  This phenomenon renders the political agency and civil mobilisations of the 2020–2025 period invisible, presenting the Balkans as a region whose history appears to have ended with the consolidation of its diaspora or the signing of international peace treaties. Latin American museums of memory, such as the Museum of Memory and Tolerance in Mexico and the Museum of Memory and Human Rights in Chile, operate according to a logic of 'trauma pedagogy'. While this is necessary, it ultimately freezes the region's image in the 1990s. In these spaces, the Balkans are almost exclusively presented through the lens of Yugoslav disintegration and mass human rights violations.  This institutional narrative reflects an academic trend that reduces the region to its historical and legal evolution. Interest in this trend is confined to analysing the legitimacy of external military interventions or the complex processes of international recognition of new entities, such as the Republic of Kosovo. This topic is present in both FAL and LL, but is approached from the perspective of international law and international relations.  As previously mentioned, by focusing their curatorial approach on ethnic conflict and the response of international organisations, these museums adopt a perspective centred on the socio-spatial dynamics of historical fragmentation, as described by several analysts. This results in a disconnect from the current reality in the Balkans: while recent intellectual and literary output processes the aftermath of the war up to 2023, the Latin American museographic discourse concludes with the genocide. Moreover, there is a clear chronological gap. While academia and comparative literature are already addressing the period 1990–2023, museography seems to have come to a standstill in 1995. This failure to keep up to date is largely a consequence of the shortage of local specialists mentioned in the previous section.  Without researchers to connect the history to the 2020–2025 protests, museums can only reproduce the traditional narrative of the conflict and the post-war period. Critical curation proposal To overcome this 'stagnation', we need to transition from 'curation of nostalgia' or 'curation of horror' to 'curation of resistance'. Although temporary exhibitions such as 'Serbia 1914' at the Mitre Museum demonstrate an attempt to broaden the perspective, they remain anchored to war-related anniversaries.  One alternative would be to organise exhibitions that link extractivism in the Balkans with socio-environmental conflicts in Latin America, thereby fostering a South–South dialogue. A concrete example is the mass protests in Serbia (2021–2024) against the “Jadar” lithium project by Rio Tinto. These protests were not just about the environment; they also denounced the lack of transparency and the influence of corporate interests on the state. This conflict reflects the same 'extractive imperative' that sparks waves of protests in Latin America, where local communities challenge mining projects in defence of water and territorial autonomy.  The protests against Rio Tinto in Serbia (2021–2022) achieved a historic victory by forcing the government to temporarily revoke the mining licences. This demonstrates that the protests were not just a ‘protest’, but an effective display of political action by citizens. This development bears a direct resemblance to the movements in Chile and Panama that succeeded in halting similar extractive projects. In both the Balkans and Latin America, the struggle is ecological and concerns sovereignty over resources in the face of transnational corporations – an aspect that has received little analysis or visibility to date.  The link between resistance movements in the Balkans and Latin America is evident in the context of lithium mining. While the debate in the Lithium Triangle centres on the global energy transition, the 'Kreni-Promeni' movement and the 'Ecological Uprising' in Serbia have demonstrated that civil mobilisation can directly challenge giants such as Rio Tinto. This has been achieved through street protests, resulting in the cancellation of projects. Latin American museums overlook this 'agency of victory' by focusing solely on past trauma and ignoring the fact that Balkan citizens are today at the forefront of defending their territory, just like socio-environmental movements in our region.  Museums could create a gallery on the 'Geopolitics of Dispossession', displaying posters from the Belgrade protests alongside records of struggles against mega-mining in Colombia or Panama. This would position the Balkans as a contemporary ally in environmental resistance. Another example is civil resilience in the face of authoritarianism. The 'Serbia Against Violence' movement (2023–2024) and protests against 'competitive authoritarian' regimes in the Western Balkans have given rise to forms of 'active citizenship' that aim to democratise institutions from the ground up. These developments are similar to the processes of democratic backsliding currently occurring in countries such as Mexico, Brazil, El Salvador and Nicaragua.  Memorial museums could showcase these 'shared struggles', challenging the perception of the Balkans as a 'failed state' and presenting them as a laboratory for democratic innovation instead. Demonstrating that these protests in both the Balkans and Latin America are not just directed against 'corruption' in general, but against systems where democratic institutions exist in name only yet are undermined by executive control of the media and judiciary, allows us to establish a shared analytical framework for both regions. This helps Latin American academics and museum specialists to view the Balkan conflict as a political phenomenon with which they are familiar, rather than as something 'ethnically alien'. Conclusion: Towards a Thaw in the Latin American Perspective on the Balkans The invisibility of Balkan civil protests (2020–2025) in Latin America's public and academic spheres is not accidental, but the consequence of dual hermeneutic closures—both academic and institutional. This study has demonstrated that Latin American discourse on the Balkans operates through two dominant yet limiting frameworks: an academic focus on historical and legal development, and a museographic approach that petrifies the region either in migratory nostalgia or the pedagogy of trauma. Both perspectives adopt a geographical outlook centred on fragmentation and static origins, thereby rendering contemporary political agency and mobilisations for environmental or anti-corruption causes invisible. The analysis of Foreign Affairs Latinoamérica and Letras Libres revealed a striking pattern: Balkan countries appear primarily as peripheral references in discussions of international order, European security, or historical conflicts, with minimal attention to current social dynamics. While Letras Libres offers valuable cultural contributions through literary and artistic coverage, neither journal engages systematically with the region's contemporary civil society. Similarly, museums in Chile, Argentina, and Mexico present a fossilised image of the Balkans—either as a place of successful immigrants or as a distant tragedy—never as a living space of civic agency. This chronological gap, where museography appears to have stalled in 1995 while Balkan intellectual production processes the post-war period up to the present, reflects a broader shortage of Latin American specialists in the region. To break this cycle, three concrete pathways are proposed: 1. Reform academic cooperation models: Expand existing Jean Monnet Chairs at leading Latin American universities beyond their traditional focus on EU–Mercosur trade relations to include specific modules on the Western Balkans. These modules should analyse 'bottom-up' democratisation processes and current citizen mobilisations, moving away from post-war paradigms. 2. Institutionalise specialised training: Establish regional summer schools on Balkan studies offering transferable academic credits to train a new generation of specialists in international relations, sociology, and geography. These programmes should prioritise contemporary social dynamics over historical conflict narratives. The establishment of regional summer schools specialising in Balkan studies is a structural response to the shortage of specialists identified in this study. The absence of Latin American academics specialising in the region is not due to a lack of interest, but rather a systemic failure to fund fields of study considered 'non-traditional' at universities in Chile, Mexico and Argentina. Postgraduate programmes in international relations and sociology tend to prioritise a focus on global powers or hemispheric regional integration, which leaves the Balkans on the intellectual periphery.  To break this cycle, summer schools should offer transferable academic credits that enable undergraduate and postgraduate students to specialise in the region while remaining in their home programmes. Furthermore, these programmes must incorporate direct engagement with activists, journalists, and academics from the Balkans to avoid the Eurocentric mediation that has dominated knowledge production about the region. By establishing South–South collaborative networks, these schools could train a new generation of researchers who would be able to analyse the Balkans not as a case study of ethnic conflicts or international interventions, but as a contemporary laboratory of civil resistance, democratic innovation, and the struggle for environmental justice — issues that resonate deeply with Latin American realities. 3. Transform curatorial practices: Develop temporary exhibitions in Latin American museums that offer perspectives on contemporary Balkan society and its similarities with Latin American struggles. Exhibitions such as a 'Geopolitics of Dispossession' gallery—linking Serbian protests against the Jadar lithium project with socio-environmental conflicts in Colombia or Panama—would foster South–South dialogue and position the Balkans as a contemporary ally in environmental resistance. Only through the institutionalisation of dedicated spaces for study and a curatorial approach that restores political agency to Balkan citizens will the region cease to be a 'grey area' on the Latin American intellectual map. The Balkans should become not merely a case study for international law or a repository of historical trauma, but a mirror in which Latin America can recognise its own struggles for environmental transparency, democratic resilience, and social justice. This thaw in perspective is not merely an academic exercise—it is a necessary step toward building genuine transregional solidarity in an era of shared global challenges. References (Soto, 2022). Análisis de la intervención militar efectuada por la Otan en Kosovo… [Tesis de pregrado, Universidad de Chile]. Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://repositorio.uchile.cl/handle/2250/186317 Bilić, J. B., Cúneo, P., & Franić, I. (2023). El croata como lengua de herencia en Argentina. Íkala, 28(1), 86–104. 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Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://www.museodemagallanes.gob.cl Muntref Museo de la Inmigración. (s.f.). Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://untref.edu.ar/muntref/es/museo-de-la-inmigracion (Gómez, 2012). El devenir histórico y legal de Kosovo. Anuario Mexicano de Derecho Internacional, 12, 65–106. Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://www.redalyc.org/articulo.oa?id=402740628003 (Cerda, 2024). Reconocimiento de la República de Kosovo… [Tesis de licenciatura, Colegio de San Luis]. Recuperado el 28 de febrero de 2026 de https://colsan.repositorioinstitucional.mx/jspui/handle/1013/1714

Author: Vladimir Stojkovic The student protests that followed the fall of the canopy are certainly not the first protests to take place in the modern history of Serbia. In many aspects, they resemble the protests of previous decades. However, what distinguishes these student protests is the level of general mobilization that is, the awakening of the broader community. This awakening did not occur only in urban centers, but also extended to rural areas, which had long been politically marginalized. Sourced from https://protesti.pics      For months, now more than a year, students have been walking proudly along their path of freedom. Many had considered this generation to be completely lost and apolitical, yet the students proved the opposite through their actions. Beyond the powerful and inspiring slogans reminiscent of the protests of the 1990s, these demonstrations have played a crucial role in raising social awareness across various spheres of life. They addressed issues ranging from respect for individual and minority rights to the importance of independent state institutions. Of course, activists, party members, NGOs, and individuals had been pointing out social problems long before these protests, and their persistence deserves recognition. However, students managed to find a formula that reached a much wider audience, including the rural parts of the country that had often been overlooked.      As students moved across Serbia, from cities, across fields and meadows, to the smallest villages, they awakened hope and initiated a form of social catharsis. They jolted people out of long-standing apathy and fear. Decades of injustice, particularly intensified over the past thirteen years, had accumulated within society. The arrival of students in remote villages helped dismantle that fear. They restored people’s pride, encouraged them to stand upright once again, and revived a sense of solidarity that had been sorely lacking. Under the influence of the student movement, citizens began participating more actively in public life. Public assemblies and discussions emerged, and people became increasingly interested in social and political issues. The students managed to wake society from a prolonged state of political passivity. The long-term effect of this awakening will be greater civic engagement, especially through participation in democratic processes such as elections, whether as observers, controllers, or candidates. What matters most is the realization that citizens hold power in their own hands.      Students have faced attacks from various ideological positions. Some label them clerofascists, while others accuse them of being Eurofanatics. Such criticism ignores the fact that students represent a heterogeneous community, and total homogeneity would be both unrealistic and dangerous. Their diversity has not hindered dialogue; on the contrary, it has fostered tolerance and mutual respect. The authorities in Serbia, along with similarly minded political actors, fear scenes of unity, people of different religions embracing one another, or showing solidarity regardless of sexual orientation. Such moments represent a defeat for politics built on division and hatred.      Ultimately, the most significant outcomes of the student protests include the disappearance of fear, increased interest in social affairs, and greater awareness of individual rights. The students also delivered a powerful lesson on corruption, helping citizens better understand its direct impact on their lives. The flame of the student protests has spread throughout Serbia, and it is clear that nothing will be the same again. The spirit of freedom has escaped the bottle, the waves of change have been set in motion, and it is now up to all of us to sustain that energy and work toward improving our society.

While official cultural institutions in Serbia remain trapped in bureaucracy and underfunding, something else is growing beneath the surface — fragile, improvised, but stubbornly alive. In Niš, the country’s third-largest city, a generation of young artists and musicians is carving out its own spaces, reshaping culture beyond state control. Their most visible experiment is Underground, a music and art festival that, in just three years, has become a focal point for what many now call the “new new wave” of Niš rock and alternative culture. Photo by Strahinja Jovanovic From 2 to 5 October this year, Underground will take over the Niš Cultural Centre with twenty bands across four nights, ranging from punk and stoner rock to synth-pop. The program is eclectic but coherent, rooted in the belief that independent music is not just entertainment but a political gesture. The festival’s history reflects this stance: its first edition in 2023 was put together in just two weeks, without institutional support, sustained purely by community energy. Since then, it has grown — with compilations, benefit events, and a steadily expanding audience — while remaining true to its DIY roots. But what sets Underground apart is not only the sound. It is the image — quite literally. Each year, the festival develops a distinctive visual language designed by young artist Jelena Perić, who has become one of its central creative forces. Her posters are not promotional tools in the traditional sense; they are manifestos. “The visuals change every year, but I try to keep a recognisable identity — something people immediately associate with Underground,” Perić says. “It’s about reflecting the energy of the city and the scene into the artwork.” This year’s design depicts a young person in freefall. It is an unsettling but also strangely liberating image. For Perić, the fall is not about defeat. “It’s about descending into our underground — into a space of honesty, community, and resistance,” she explains. The poster overturns the usual meaning of falling: what might seem like a collapse becomes a deliberate choice to abandon the surface world of stagnation and enter a deeper, truer dimension. Underground poster The aesthetics carry unmistakable political undertones. Serbia’s cultural sector has been systematically neglected: for years, less than one percent of the national budget has been allocated to culture, leaving independent initiatives with little chance of survival. In this vacuum, the underground scene becomes more than a subculture — it is a necessity. The visual motif of falling into the underground crystallises that necessity: if official culture cannot sustain life, then life must create its own parallel ecosystem. The festival’s community-based financing reflects the same ethos. Underground relies on fundraising parties and donations, with local partners such as the Critical Education Centre providing support. This mode of survival is itself a form of critique — exposing the absence of public commitment to culture while demonstrating that art can thrive without state structures. “We don’t see Underground as a once-a-year event,” Perić notes. “It’s an ongoing process, a constant effort to hold space for something independent and real.” Jelena Perić, Underground promotion The atmosphere of rebellion also runs through the music. One of the most talked-about acts this year was Bunt — literally “Rebellion” — a young band that recently released Nisam sam (“I Am Not Alone”), a song inspired by student protests and blockades. Their presence on the festival stage directly links Underground to the wider social climate, where young people have turned cultural spaces like Belgrade’s Student Cultural Centre (SKC) into arenas of political and artistic expression. In such moments, art and activism cease to exist as separate spheres: a concert becomes a protest, and a poster becomes a call to action. Underground is therefore not merely a festival but a living archive of the struggles, hopes, and aesthetics of a generation. Its posters, music, and gatherings together form a counter-narrative to the dominant discourse that treats culture as expendable. The festival reveals that cultural production can still be a site of collective meaning, that rebellion can be joyful, and that falling into the underground is sometimes the only way to rise above the surface. To outsiders, Niš may not appear to be the capital of cultural innovation. Yet anyone who has witnessed a packed hall at Underground fest — where sound, image, and solidarity collide — understands that something more than a local festival is at stake. This is what culture looks like when it is reclaimed: messy, improvised, fragile, yet fiercely authentic! And in that authenticity lies its greatest strength.

Protesters in Istanbul clash with riot police after the arrest of Mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu in March 2025.Turkey is witnessing its largest wave of protests in over a decade. Demonstrations exploded across the country starting March 19, 2025, after Istanbul’s popular mayor Ekrem İmamoğlu – a leading opposition figure – was detained and arrested along with over 100 others. Crowds swiftly poured into the streets of Istanbul, Ankara, İzmir and nearly every major city, rallying against what they see as a politically motivated crackdown by President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s government. The protests began as a show of solidarity with İmamoğlu but have grown into a broader outcry over Turkey’s direction. We will try to answer the questions – who, what, where, when, why, and how – and paint a picture of a nation at a crossroads. A drone view shows people gathering during a rally to protest against the arrest of Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu as part of a corruption investigation, in Istanbul, Turkey, March 29, 2025. (Reuters) What Sparked the Unrest in Turkey? Who is involved: The protests involve hundreds of thousands of ordinary Turks from all walks of life. Opposition political parties, led by İmamoğlu’s Republican People’s Party (CHP), quickly threw their support behind the movement. University students have been at the forefront, and people spanning the political spectrum – right-wing and left-wing – have united under national symbols like Turkish flags and images of Atatürk, Turkey’s founding father. Even some expatriate Turks have rallied in solidarity, with demonstrations reported in places like Northern Cyprus, Ireland and Western Europe. On the other side, the government and security forces have mobilized heavily to contain the unrest, indicating how seriously Erdoğan’s administration views the challenge. What and Where: The movement erupted nationwide, with massive protests in Istanbul (home to the largest crowds), the capital Ankara, the Aegean city İzmir, and dozens of other provinces. Within hours of İmamoğlu’s arrest on March 19, crowds gathered outside Istanbul’s police headquarters, and by the next day large demonstrations had spread to cities and towns across Turkey. Protesters chant slogans like “İmamoğlu, you are not alone!” and “Erdogan, dictator!”, voicing anger not only at the arrest but at years of eroding democratic norms. The timing (When): Starting March 19, 2025, protests have continued through the spring and into the summer, with major weekend rallies. For instance, a late-March weekend saw what the CHP claimed were over 2 million people rallying in Istanbul, an unprecedented turnout since the Gezi Park protests of 2013. As of July 2025, demonstrations are still ongoing in various forms, sustaining momentum for over three months. Why – causes and grievances: The immediate trigger was the arrest of Ekrem İmamoğlu, who is widely seen as Erdoğan’s chief political rival and a potential future presidential candidate. The arrest – on charges of corruption and even aiding terrorism – is viewed by protesters as politically motivated to sideline a democratic opponent. “The day the government decides its opponents is the day democracy dies,” warned İmamoğlu’s wife, Dilek İmamoğlu, urging citizens to raise their voices. Beyond İmamoğlu’s case, broader frustrations fuel the unrest. Turkey has been mired in an economic crisis with soaring inflation (over 40% annually by early 2025) and a sharply devalued lira, leaving many struggling with high prices and rents. Protesters decry what they call growing autocracy under Erdoğan – citing authoritarianism, corruption, and democratic backsliding as core issues. In essence, “We’re fighting not just for Ekrem, but for Turkey,” as Dilek İmamoğlu told one crowd. Many see this as a fight for the future of the republic itself, demanding justice, rule of law, and a voice in how the country is governed. How are the protests unfolding: Largely through peaceful mass rallies, marches, and civil disobedience – though tensions have occasionally flared. Protesters have organized huge demonstrations and even strikes and boycotts; for example, CHP called for boycotting businesses seen as pro-government. In the streets, a festive yet defiant atmosphere prevails: people wave national flags, sing the national anthem, and carry banners with quotes like “Sovereignty belongs unconditionally to the nation”. University students and even pensioners march side by side, banging pots in cacerolazo protests and shining laser pointers – creative tactics to show dissent. Social media and messaging apps have been crucial for organizing, despite government efforts to restrict them. Notably, protests have cut across typical political divides – uniting secularists and conservatives, Turks and Kurds (flags of a pro-Kurdish party were seen in the crowds) – indicating widespread discontent beyond any one faction. Authorities Crack Down: Government Response and Public Reaction The Turkish authorities have responded with a mix of hardline measures and dismissive rhetoric. Erdoğan’s government moved quickly to ban public gatherings in Istanbul and later Ankara and Izmir, imposing a temporary prohibition on protests. Riot police with water cannon trucks and tear gas have been deployed in city centers. In Istanbul, police barricaded roads around the detention center holding İmamoğlu, and clashes erupted as officers used pepper spray on crowds outside institutions like Istanbul University. Over the first week of unrest, nearly 2,000 protesters were detained according to the Interior Ministry, including many students and even journalists (a visiting Swedish reporter and a BBC correspondent were briefly held). More than 300 students were reportedly arrested in nighttime raids on their homes for joining demonstrations or posting protest support online. While most have since been released pending trials, such tactics have been condemned by human rights observers as intimidation. Erdoğan has dismissed the protesters as “marginal groups” and accused the opposition of destabilizing Turkey. He even claimed the opposition was “sinking the economy” and vowed that “sabotage targeting the Turkish economy will be held accountable” – effectively blaming protesters for the country’s financial woes. This combative stance suggests the government is doubling down rather than yielding to protester demands. Thus far, key demands of the protesters include the release of Ekrem İmamoğlu, an end to what they call persecution of the opposition, and guarantees of free and fair elections in the future. Many are also boldly calling for the resignation of Erdoğan’s government (chants of “Hükümet istifa!” – “Government resign!” – echo at rallies). The CHP and allied opposition parties have shown rare unity, continuing to nominate İmamoğlu as their presidential candidate despite his imprisonment. Public reaction within Turkey is sharply divided. The protest movement enjoys broad support among urban populations, youth, and those frustrated with economic hardship and corruption. Crowds have remained energized even through Ramadan and into national holidays. On the other side, Erdoğan’s loyal base and pro-government media either minimize the protests or label them as unlawful. Major state-aligned TV channels have given scant coverage to the demonstrations, focusing instead on government events. In response, protesters have leveraged alternative channels – from independent news outlets to social media – to get their message out. (Notably, activists even staged a symbolic blockade of the state broadcaster’s offices to protest biased coverage) Internationally, Turkey’s turmoil has drawn concern: for example, U.S. and EU officials have cautiously urged respect for democratic rights. But Erdoğan, emboldened by a recent electoral win in 2023, has so far resisted any compromise, betting that his control over state institutions will outlast the street fury. Unrest in Serbia: A Parallel Wave of Protest Police detain a demonstrator during student-led road blockades in Belgrade, Serbia, July 3, 2025.Even as Turkey’s protests rage, a different but resonant movement has been unfolding in Serbia. For roughly eight months now, Serbians have held persistent anti-government protests, which intensified into 2025. The Serbian protests were sparked by tragedy: on November 1, 2024, a newly renovated train station canopy collapsed in the northern city of Novi Sad, killing 16 people. Public outrage erupted amid allegations that corruption and negligence were to blame for the disaster. By late November, students in Novi Sad began organizing silent vigils and class boycotts to honor the victims and demand accountability. This soon grew into a nationwide movement against what protesters call a culture of corruption, cronyism and authoritarian governance under President Aleksandar Vučić. Throughout late 2024 and into 2025, the Serbian protests gained momentum and spread to hundreds of towns and cities – over 400 locations by March 2025. This breadth is extraordinary for a country of Serbia’s size, reflecting deep frustration beyond the capital. The movement has been largely student-led and decentralized: university and high school students launched daily actions, including brief traffic blockades each day at the exact time of the Novi Sad collapse (11:52 a.m.), stopping traffic for 16 minutes in memory of the 16 lives lost. Over time, other segments of society joined in – teachers, professors, opposition activists, workers, even farmers. Major rallies in cities like Belgrade, Novi Sad, Niš, Kragujevac have drawn tens of thousands of people, sometimes in defiance of police roadblocks set up to prevent them from converging. An independent monitoring group estimated about 140,000 protesters gathered in Belgrade during a mid-March demonstration, making it one of the largest in recent Serbian history. The demands of Serbian protesters have evolved and broadened. Initially, they sought accountability for the Novi Sad tragedy – investigations and punishment for any officials or contractors whose corruption led to the collapse. When President Vučić’s government reshuffled but remained in power, protesters shifted focus to systemic change. They began calling for snap elections to be held well before the scheduled 2027 date, declaring Vučić’s regime “illegitimate”. To ensure any elections are truly democratic, they demand reforms: a cleanup of voter rolls, equal media access for opposition voices, and an end to alleged vote-buying. Students also insist on better funding and autonomy for universities, recognition of student bodies in decision-making, and education reforms after a decade of what they see as decline. In essence, Serbia’s protests target what they describe as authoritarian drift and state capture under Vučić – strikingly similar themes to those in Turkey’s unrest, albeit triggered by a different event. The response of Serbian authorities has grown increasingly forceful in recent weeks. For many months, weekly marches and campus sit-ins went peacefully, but by mid-2025 tensions escalated. In early July, riot police clashed with demonstrators in Belgrade and other cities, firing tear gas and pushing back crowds that had begun to blockade major intersections. During one large rally on July 1, scuffles broke out; by the next day, police detained 79 protesters in a crackdown, including students manning a blockade outside Belgrade’s law school. Officials reported dozens of injuries on both sides. President Vučić and his interior minister have taken a hard line – Vučić lashed out that protest organizers were “terrorists” trying to overthrow the state, and warned darkly of foreign instigators behind the unrest (though he offered no evidence). Pro-government media in Serbia have echoed this narrative, launching a smear campaign painting protesters as violent extremists or puppets of Western intelligence. These claims are strongly denied by protesters, who note that Serbians have a history of toppling strongmen (as they did with Slobodan Milošević in 2000) through people power. Human rights groups and the European Union have voiced concern over Belgrade’s heavy-handed tactics, with the U.N. human rights office urging Serbia to respect peaceful assembly after reports of “violence, harassment & arbitrary detention” of protesters. Parallels and Contrasts: Turkey’s Protests vs Serbia’s Protests Despite different spark points, the protest movements in Turkey and Serbia share notable similarities – and key differences – in their causes, organization, public reception, and media environments. Below is a breakdown: Causes and Triggers: Both uprisings began in response to a galvanizing incident that symbolized deeper grievances. In Turkey, the trigger was explicitly political – the jailing of an opposition leader (İmamoğlu) seen as a threat to an entrenched ruler. In Serbia, it was a deadly infrastructure failure – a collapsed station roof – viewed as a consequence of government corruption and incompetence. In both cases, what started as outrage over a specific event quickly evolved into a broader protest against the ruling regime’s misrule. Turks are decrying years of democratic backsliding, alleged politicization of the judiciary, and economic mismanagement. Serbians likewise are protesting corruption, lack of accountability, and what they see as authoritarian tendencies in Vučić’s 12-year rule. Essentially, demand for good governance and justice is at the heart of both movements, even if one was triggered by an opposition arrest and the other by a tragic accident. Organization and Leadership: The organizational dynamics differ. Turkey’s protests, while spontaneous in spirit, have the backing of established opposition parties and politicians – the CHP and other opposition parties actively mobilized supporters, and prominent figures like CHP leader Özgür Özel and Ankara’s mayor Mansur Yavaş have joined in or voiced support. A broad coalition of civil society groups, unions, and even rival political ideologies have united, using national unity symbols (e.g. portraits of Atatürk) to bridge divides. In Serbia, the protests have been notably grassroots and student-driven. There is no single charismatic leader; instead, student councils and ad-hoc committees have coordinated actions across universities. Opposition parties in Serbia did eventually lend support, but the momentum has largely come from young people and civic groups rather than top-down party rallies. Both countries’ movements have leveraged creative tactics (marches, road blockades, campus strikes), but Serbia’s are uniquely centered on academic institutions (many universities remain under student blockade as of April 2025), whereas Turkey’s are centered in city squares and municipal centers. In short, Turkey’s protests have visible leadership from opposition politicians, while Serbia’s are a more diffuse youth-led civic uprising. Public Response and Scale: Both movements have drawn massive turnouts, reflecting significant public backing. Turkey’s crowds reach into the hundreds of thousands nationally; at one Istanbul rally in late March, over 2 million people were claimed to be in attendance (opposition figures). Demonstrations have occurred in almost every province of Turkey, a scale not seen since at least 2013. Serbia’s protests, relative to its population, are similarly widespread – active in 400+ towns and cities by spring 2025. In Belgrade, independent estimates put recent crowds in the six figures, and even medium-sized cities have seen rallies of thousands. Both countries have seen multi-generational participation: young students and older citizens marching together, united by a feeling that the country is at a turning point. Notably, neither movement has been completely universal – the ruling parties still command a base that has largely stayed off the streets. But in both Turkey and Serbia, the protesting portion of the public is energized, creative, and sustained in a way that has clearly rattled those in power. The geographic spread (nationwide reach, not just capital-centric) and longevity of these protests mark a significant similarity. Media Coverage and Government Narrative: Both regimes have reacted by trying to control the narrative. In Turkey, where mainstream media is mostly pro-government, coverage of the protests has been limited or skewed – state TV largely echoed Erdoğan’s line that the protests are a “show” by marginal agitators. The government even temporarily restricted social media platforms like Twitter (X), YouTube, and Instagram to hamper protest organization and reporting. Independent Turkish journalists face intimidation; some foreign reporters were detained while covering rallies. Likewise in Serbia, state-friendly media have minimized the protests or depicted them as violent riots. President Vučić’s labeling of protesters as “terrorists” was amplified on certain TV channels, aiming to erode public sympathy. Protesters in Serbia have responded by directly challenging media bias – one dramatic act was the blockade of the national broadcaster RTS, disrupting its programming to demand fair reporting. International media, by contrast, have covered both Turkey’s and Serbia’s unrest extensively, framing them as battles for democracy. This external spotlight put pressure on authorities: for example, the UN and European officials criticized Serbia’s police crackdown and urged restraint, while Western diplomats quietly pressed Turkey to respect political pluralism. Overall, media freedom issues are central in both cases: protesters accuse their governments of propaganda and censorship, and in both countries independent journalism itself has become part of the story. In conclusion, Turkey and Serbia – though different in context, size, and political system – are experiencing converging currents of popular dissent. In both nations, citizens have been driven to the streets by a sense that their leaders have amassed too much power for too long, at the expense of accountability and everyday people’s well-being. The Turkish protests continue to demand a reversal of democratic backsliding and relief from economic pain, while Serbian protesters press for an end to corruption and a voice for the next generation in shaping the country’s future. How these movements unfold remains to be seen, but in both Istanbul and Belgrade the message ringing out is unmistakable: people have limits to their patience, and when those are crossed – whether by a political witch-hunt or a national tragedy – the public will stand up, speak out, and insist on change. Both Balkan and Anatolian streets now echo with calls for justice, proving that demands for democracy and accountability transcend borders in this turbulent moment for the region.

Author: Ivana Milićević, Research Assistant at the Institute for Philosophy and Social Theory, University of Belgrade On March 15, 2025, the largest protest in Serbia’s history was organised in Belgrade, seeking accountability for the collapse of the concrete canopy of the newly renovated railway station in Novi Sad, which killed 15 people. As illegalities and corruption in the reconstruction project started to reveal, this immense tragedy turned into a grim reminder that “the corruption kills”, leading to massive anti-corruption protests led by Serbian students. How did we get here? After the 15-minute silence in commemoration of the victims was broken by a physical assault on students in front of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade by people close to the ruling party, students across Serbia started blocking their faculties, with a seemingly simple demands for the rule of law and institutional response. What they ask for is transparency about the Novi Sad train station’s renovation, a dismissal of charges against activists arrested during the first anti-government protest in November, and criminal prosecution of those who attacked student protesters. Their demands have been supported by universities, teachers, lawyers, agriculture workers, artists and representatives of various industries. Around 80% of Serbian citizens supports most of the demands, while around third took part in the protests, which have been organised in more than 200 localities across Serbia. Having clearly distanced themselves from all political parties and consistently insisting on transparency and institutional accountability, it seems that the students succeeded in reaching an agreement on the fundamentals, which demonstrated a high potential for generating broader support for long-term political changes. As such, it seems that the demands deserve broad international support as well, particularly from the European Union, as they highly align with its fundamental values, insisting on democracy, rule of law and human rights protection. Where has the EU been along the way? So, why has then the EU remained so reluctant in addressing the protests, particularly as it claims to closely follow the current political situation in Serbia? While silence sometimes speaks the loudest, occasional statements from the Brussels spoke even louder in expressing its support to the government and lack of worry for the enlargement’s fundamentals. Gert Jan Koopman, the EU's Director-General for Neighbourhood and Enlargement Negotiations (DG NEAR) visiting Serbia in January 2025, failed to express his concerns regarding the lack of transparency and accountability for the collapse of the railway station canopy or any support to the peaceful protests which had already became historical. On the contrary, he noted Serbia’s “steady progress” towards the EU and was “eager to support Serbia in completing the necessary reforms”. It may come as no surprise if we remember that in October 2024, not long before the tragedy, in her visit to Serbia, President of the European Commission Ursula von der Leyen, praised Serbia’s progress and commitment to delivering on reforms, in particular on the fundamentals - rule of law and democracy. While von der Leyen has not hesitated to express support for “the Georgian people fighting for democracy", she has remained remarkably quiet about the events in Serbia. Indeed, the EU’s spokesperson Guillaume Mercier did express concerns about the reported attacks against protestors and called all key actors to engage in a constructive political dialogue. However, the EU failed to follow-up on the findings of its own progress reports which have for years urged Serbian authorities to step up their efforts to fight corruption, ensure the independence of the judiciary, and guarantee freedom of expression, even after it was confirmed that the European Public Prosecutor’s Office investigates the misuse of EU funds in the case of the railway station. The EU high representatives were addressed by Members of the European Parliament, Serbia’s professors and esteemed public figures from different spheres, scholars and expert groups, and EU research grantees, who all in their open letters asked for Union’s more active role and principled response to these events. The reaction of the European Commission was particularly expected looking ahead to the last protest in Belgrade, as the tensions ran high with contra-protesters supported by hooligans and war veterans gathered in front of the National Assembly and president Vučić using inflammatory rhetoric. The pro-EU citizens and organisations kept addressing it, to provoke its reaction to major protests in one of its candidate countries with a major democratic decline, but were mostly left without a proper response.   What does the European Union stand for (?) The Commissioner for Enlargement Marta Kos responded to the received letters of concern by an open letter as well, with an aim to “recall what the European Union stands for”. Successfully avoiding to mention students and their demands, Kos did tackle a very important issue stating that “Serbia's path towards the European Union offers solutions to many of the issues that are at the heart of discussion today“. She stated that the process, if properly implemented, strengthens the fight against corruption, ensures the independence of the judiciary and accountability of institutions. But what happens if the process is not being implemented properly, but hindered by the lack of credibility, contested political interests and disregarding of the principle “fundamentals first”? In that case, “the path” may lead to legitimising the regimes with growing authoritarian tendencies, at the cost of promised stability or commercial interests. In order for the accession process to restore its “transformative power” it would first need to restore the credibility of both conditionality policy and the perspective of membership. Currently lacking both, the EU risks to lose its relevance in the light of the changing political reality in Serbia. Its strong support to the lithium extraction project in the Jadar valley remained steady despite serious concerns on the lack of environmental standards and rule of law and continuous attacks on environmental and human rights defenders, some of whom were even targeted as “eco-terrorists”.  The EU praised the Memorandum of Understanding signed with Serbia on Strategic Partnership on sustainable raw materials, battery value chains and electric vehicles as a way to enhance integration process and “reaffirm Serbia’s EU path”. The former Minister of Traffic and Infrastructure Goran Vesić assessed that Serbia “essentially became an EU member” by the signing of the Memorandum. This has shown that there is a mutual understanding on both sides that the progress in the accession process is being evaluated somewhere far away from the prescribed conditions, progress reports and especially principles which prioritise fundamental reforms – democracy and the rule of law. This also shows that neither of the sides takes the integration process seriously, as they both agree to “take the most out of it” in the circumstances in which the enlargement “gained a new momentum" only nominally, and the old promises (of stability) seem to be enough. Experts and civil society have already expressed concerns about how this trend will affect the perception of the EU and citizens’ attitudes towards the enlargement. The support for the EU integration has lowered among youth in Serbia in the last five years, particularly among the youngest of the respondents, while, according to the Balkan Barometer, most of the Serbian citizens (35% of them) think that their country will never become a member of the EU. The same research shows a trend that youth of the region is becoming more uncertain or neutral about the EU accession. It is certain that this will also be the case with the youth in Serbia. The values that students stand for, although correspond to them, are not European values, but their own and they will firmly protect them regardless of the EU’s support, as they have for months now. This time, it is the EU that is on the test, to “step up and fulfil its self-proclaimed task of a democracy and rule of law promoter”. The “words of concern” and bureaucratic euphemisms may not be enough to restore not only the credibility of the accession process, but also its relevance among youth, who proved to be the guardians of its “core values”, without ever referring to it. In accordance with its own principles and enlargement methodology, the EU needs to systematically and clearly address the roots of the student’s demands, as their fulfilment may bring the reforms crucial for the integration process. But it cannot go the other way around. The EU should initiate a direct dialogue with Serbian citizens, including students, experts, workers, and civil society organisations, and provide unequivocal support to the fight for democracy and the rule of law, if it still has the ambition to act as a driver of reforms rather than a factor of status quo. After all, it seems that the EU is the one who should be reminded what it stands for.

On November 1st at exactly 11.52 a concrete canopy on Novi Sad railway station collapsed instantly murdering 14 persons, while 3 were seriously injured. The number of victims rose to 15 when a young woman died in the hospital due to her injuries. Two injured victims still remain under severe hospital supervision, almost three months after the collapse. This sunny, peaceful day was one of the darkest in recent Serbian history, especially for Novi Sad. This multicultural town is known for its peace and quiet, its people being extremely polite and kind. However, in the past three months, even this has changed.  Although government officials assured the public that all necessary measures will be taken and the responsible persons will be punished, the angry and hurt citizens did not believe the government whose corruption and lack of transparency have been an issue for several years. The citizens started spontaneously gathering on the streets at 11.52 almost every day, paying respect to the dead. At first, for 14 minutes of silence, and then 15, a minute for each life that was lost due to a corrupted reconstruction project of the railway station.  At one of these 15-minute gatherings, students of the Faculty of dramatic arts in Belgrade blocked the street in front of their Faculty in order to pay respects to the Novi Sad victims. They were physically attacked, by what at first seemed, passers-by. However, soon after the incident, the public identified the attackers - local government officials from Belgrade. The students were determined to seek justice for their hospitalized peers and set together in order to discuss the next steps. Their collective decision was the blockade of the faculty, the institution they see as their own, in order for other institutions to listen to them and start working according to the law, in their own capacities and competencies.  Soon after, in acts of solidarity and support, other faculties and universities across the country started their own blockades. From that moment on, each decision, including the decision about the blockade, was voted by the plenum (an assembly of all the members of a group or committee) organised by the students themselves. Now, four months after the tragic event in Novi Sad, more than 80 faculties (including Faculty of Theology in Belgrade and some private faculties) are in a blockade. The wave of violence spread towards the younger students, those who dared to raise voices in their highschools. But so did the wave of blockades and protests and the number of involved citizens increased. High school students started blocking the streets every day at exactly 11.52, university professors, high school teachers and principals stood behind their students and supported their requests. Soon the unions of miners, IT professionals, media and culture workers gave their support to the joint cause - requests for the institutions to prosecute the law breakers and protect the students during the peaceful protest.  Besides the direct democracy that the students practice everyday on their plenum meetings, they have shown incredible knowledge and capability to organise, communicate with the public, to stand in solidarity with other peers, but most importantly, they showed that knowledge and determination they have is beyond any textbook lesson. They have gone through the cracked and weakened educational system, acquiring the core knowledge for critical thinking, direct democratic participation and hands-on solidarity. They sacrificed their lectures, exams and grades in order to demonstrate that a common goal is above the personal results and successes. In a country without media freedom, they managed to communicate their message so clearly and efficiently, that it reached even the most distant of towns and villages in Serbia.  How did they succeed? On foot. This is not a metaphor—literally, on foot. It all started with a large gathering on February 1st in Novi Sad, marking 3 months from the tragedy. In order to pay their respects to the victims, students blocked 3 bridges together with the citizens. But what was even more moving and influential, was a two-day long march from Belgrade to Novi Sad when students walked through towns and villages carrying their message that justice must be met. Local people gathered, cooked meals for students and supplied them with anything they needed - from food and water to bandages and medical supplies. With tears in their eyes people of all ages greeted students like they were liberators.  The next large gathering was on February 15th in Kragujevac, as this is where the first Serbian constitution was signed on this day in 1835, a date Serbia still celebrates as its Statehood Day. Students set off on foot from different towns toward Kragujevac in groups, passing through smaller places to inform people about what was happening and break through the media blackout. Some groups walked as much as 150 kilometers in just three days. In Kragujevac, they announced another gathering in Niš 15 days later, where an even larger number of people attended, and once again, students and young people marched on foot. The latest research shows that around 80% of the population now supports the students' demands. From the very beginning of the blockades to these massive protests, marches, and demonstrations, the movement has consistently upheld the same four demands. The first demand is for full disclosure of all documentation related to the reconstruction of the railway station canopy in Novi Sad. The second is for all those who committed violence against students during the blockades to be arrested and prosecuted. The third is for the release of all activists who were detained for supporting the blockades. And the fourth demand is for a 20% increase in the state budget allocation for higher education. The next major gathering is scheduled for March 15th in Belgrade. According to student groups, this will be the final gathering, marking the end of all protests. On the other hand, these same student groups continue to unequivocally and persistently inform the public that they will not give up on the blockades until all four demands are met. In other words, students are confident that on March 15th in Belgrade, they will secure the fulfillment of their demands. How? Follow our portal on March 15th to find out. PUMP IT UP!