
I live in Prague, but I follow the student protests in Serbia daily. Completely hypnotized, I feel as if they have started something similar to what was started in my city in November 1989 by Czechoslovakian students – that which later became known as the Velvet revolution. I am convinced that students from Belgrade have given birth to another European non-violent revolution and that we will soon learn its name.
On November 17, 1989, the independent student association STUHA planned a commemorative event in Prague for the 50th anniversary of the closing of Czech universities by the Nazis. The official purpose was to honor the memory of student Jan Opletal, killed in 1939 while taking part in anti-Nazi demonstrations, but certain groups of students also intended to express dissatisfaction with the current social situation and call for changes. At the students’ request, dissident organizations did not participate in the preparation and organization of the rally, so that the authorities would have no reason to ban or suppress it. The rest is history.
Each era has its own context, so comparisons are seldom appropriate, and often in poor taste. Nevertheless, when I look at the Serbian youth, whose fathers and grandfathers initiated the destruction of a beautifully imagined utopia, the Velvet Revolution comes to mind. That utopia, unfortunately, took with it many lives, hopes and dreams.
But let’s go back to the present. Referencing the media coverage of student protests, director Jasmila Žbanić noticed a very important thing – that many journalists fail to emphasize that students in Serbia today represent the most democratic and progressive movement in Europe, because they organize themselves through plenums, (self-governance) without a leader. The entire blockade of universities is led by student plenums, where everyone can express their opinion, and decisions are made by popular vote.
Žbanić believes that the young people of Serbia are the hope not only for the Balkans, but also for all of Europe. In her opinion, students at European universities should give them as much support as possible, because similar movements will soon be needed in Germany, Austria and many other countries.
All of us who follow the student protests in our former state immediately start crying when we look at them. Even the most resistant and stubborn among us have had all our blockages, dams and chakras opened wide by the students, better than any psychotherapy. Everything is pouring out, decades of frustration, humiliation, but also some wonderfully moving, primordial hope and faith in the human race, at a time when humanity is losing its ground, as we watch monsters from all over the world destroy the last pillars of the foundation on which the democratic and anti-fascist ethos was built after World War II and the oath: Never again.
I studied in Belgrade in the late 1980s and graduated from university just before everything broke down, all the vows our parents’ generations had selflessly given to each other.
Belgrade has a special place in my life, like a first love. The last time I was in Belgrade was in December 2022, and for the first time in a long time I felt that negative feelings prevailed over positive ones. Even over that wonderful feeling that you are welcome, and that you’ll be going home with a whole bag of new books because everyone knows exactly what to get you to make you happy.
As soon as I stepped out of that warm, protective circle, I was faced with chaos, the jungle, unbearable noise, smog that tears through the chest. And the overall feeling that nothing is right. Tension, nervousness or apathy among people.
On the street, in traffic, it’s a fight for survival. One taxi driver confided in us that he would “kill the neighbor because of the parking space”, another, when he heard the accent, said that he was “sick of living with fools, primitives, nationalists, who support Morocco, and not their neighbors”. The third told us that things can never be good in Serbia, and that it will get worse, because “the people have been irrevocably manipulated, beaten down.”
And with some, we didn’t dare to speak when we saw what was hanging on their rearview mirrors.
Belgrade Waterfront caused me physical nausea, anxiety, astonishment when I fathomed the extent of crime, mythomania and pathology of the government.
But I still had hope. Meeting with fellow journalists convinced me that some people, fortunately for all of us, are indomitable and incorruptible regardless of the consequences. And that Belgrade still has that something that I met in the eighties, which did not die in the terrible nineties, which was not killed by Milosevic, which, I hoped, would not be destroyed even by the Progressive pests.
Over time, I must admit, my hope grew thinner, and the feeling that Serbia was lost grew stronger.
And then, after the Novi Sad tragedy – an explosion. Students took the stage, and feelings poured out in Belgrade and throughout Serbia like pure light and lava. People began to find in themselves everything that makes us human – everything that they had buried in order to survive against the inhumanity of the abominable regime – kindness, compassion, the need for other people, for cooperation and closeness.
Writer Bojan Babić wrote on his Facebook wall: “The creative and almost epic endeavors that students take on these days have far-reaching social significance (if not concrete political consequences). Particularly interesting to me are the eruptive emotional reactions of adults to student activities. I think that says a lot. First of all, that silence and non-dialogue are strong in our collective subconscious. We don’t know how to name the collective frustration because we don’t talk about it publicly or even privately. We have been living with it for decades. And then a group of young people passes through our town, and we still can’t name it in a language we understand – but we can feel it. Like when you realize that it’s not your fault that you’re being abused, that you’re not alone, that it happened to others too. Like a slave who doesn’t know what freedom looks like, but can feel it. It’s something like collective, folk poetry.”
For me, this is one of the most beautiful and touching observations about student activities.
“Truth and love must win over lies and hatred.” This sentence was spoken by Václav Havel during the Velvet Revolution. No matter how naive and pathetic this may seem today in the world of Trumps and Putins, we must not give up on this sentiment, because without it and those like it, we will not be able to deal with such worlds.
And the students from Serbia and the scenes they created on the streets and squares of Belgrade and Novi Sad, regardless of where we live, gave us all back the feeling that we are human beings, that we are free beings with the right to choose, to the truth, to a dignified life in countries where justice reigns and where man, not profit, comes first.
Serbia will undoubtedly need a long time to heal. It is true that the whole world needs healing. I am old enough to know that it will never be complete, but for a start what the students have done is huge, and more than enough, because you only know freedom when you lose it.
Translated by Marijana Simić
Peščanik.net, 05.02.2025.