Dan Banik speaks with Nemanja Džuverović about the student-led movement that has shaken Serbia’s political order one year after the Novi Sad train station collapse. Together they explore how a tragedy turned into a nationwide call for accountability, revealing both the fragility and resilience of democracy in the Balkans.
One year after a deadly train-station collapse in Novi Sad that killed sixteen people, Serbia’s student-led protests have become a powerful challenge to corruption, impunity, and democratic decay.
In this episode, Dan Banik speaks with Nemanja Džuverović, Professor of Peace Studies at the University of Belgrade, about how grief turned into the country’s largest civic movement in decades. Together they explore what the protests reveal about Serbia’s political system, the rise of “stabilocracy,” and the fragile state of democracy across the Balkans.
Dan and Nemanja — colleagues in the Circle U European University Alliance’s Democracy Hub — also discuss shifting global alliances, China’s growing presence, and why young Serbians are losing faith in the European project.
A story of resilience and renewal, this conversation offers rare insight into how civic courage can revive democracy from the ground up.
Dan Banik:
Nemanja, it's wonderful to see you. Welcome to the show.
Nemanja Džuverović:
Thank you, Dan. It’s great to be on your podcast, and thank you for the invitation. You and I have been colleagues for a while now, teaching courses on development and democratic backsliding. I want to start with something happening in your country. Serbia has been experiencing student protests for quite some time, growing in both size and momentum. They’ve been largely peaceful and nonviolent.
When we organized our summer school in Belgrade in June 2025, we couldn’t even use the university campus because students had occupied it. What’s remarkable is that this large movement hasn’t really received the attention it deserves in Western media.
Dan Banik:
Give us a sense of what’s happening in Serbia — what’s driving this fight for democracy?
Nemanja Džuverović:
Let me start by putting Serbia and the Western Balkans in context. When people talk about democratic backsliding today, they often mention the United States after Trump, or European countries like Hungary and Poland. But few realize that the Western Balkans — particularly Serbia, and to some extent Montenegro, Albania, and Bosnia — have been experiencing democratic erosion for more than a decade. Serbia is perhaps the clearest example.
We’re a country of about 6.5 million people, but one ruling party, or coalition around that party, controls every level of government — from municipalities to the presidency. In effect, the entire political system has been captured by a single party. Over the past decade, democracy has been slowly hollowed out.
That’s the backdrop to the student protests that began about nine months ago. It all started in Serbia’s second-largest city, Novi Sad, where a newly renovated train station canopy collapsed, killing 16 people. The accident itself could happen anywhere — but in Serbia, it exposed the deeper rot: corruption, impunity, and the absence of accountability.
Students across the country demanded responsibility from the government — both political and criminal — for the tragedy. Few expected the movement to spread so quickly. Serbia has had many protests over the years, but none with this scale of mobilization. What began with technical demands soon became a moral call for responsibility. When the government refused to respond, protests spread rapidly.
In March 2025, around 400,000 people marched in Belgrade — nearly 10% of Serbia’s population. Students occupied public universities, vowing not to leave until their demands were met. Professors joined them, as did teachers, lawyers, and workers. What began as a student protest has become a broad, peaceful social movement.
Dan Banik:
Serbia’s been sliding democratically for years. And as you said, this isn’t just “somewhere else” — Serbia is part of Europe. Yet we rarely hear about this in European media. I’m struck by how an accident — tragic as it was — could ignite such a large movement. Clearly, there was already deep frustration: about corruption, declining rights, and shrinking hope.
A decade ago, many Serbians wanted to join the EU. Now, support seems to be fading. What happened?
Nemanja Džuverović:
Many people remember the 1990s — the Yugoslav wars — when Serbia was seen as the main aggressor. The country was isolated under UN sanctions, even sports teams were banned from international competitions.
After 2001, we entered a period of democratization. Milošević was ousted and extradited to The Hague. From 2000 to about 2014, we had reform-minded, pro-European governments. The EU promised membership, and for a while, optimism was real.
The turning point came around 2012–2014, when populists returned to power. Ironically, these were the same actors from the 1990s, but now wrapped in pro-European rhetoric. They looked acceptable to Brussels. Over time, they consolidated power — first becoming the largest party, then the only governing party, and finally capturing the presidency.
The EU’s role has been problematic. It prioritizes stability over democracy in our region — what many call stabilocracy. As long as leaders can keep things quiet and prevent regional instability, they’re tolerated, even supported, regardless of democratic decline.
Dan Banik:
When we last met in Belgrade, you said something striking over dinner — that Serbia sometimes feels like “the Africa of Europe.”
Nemanja Džuverović:
Yes. Maybe not in how we’re seen, but certainly in how we feel. Geographically, the Balkans are part of Europe. But economically, socially, and politically, we often have more in common with Africa, Latin America, or the Middle East than with Western Europe. We’re Europe’s periphery — perhaps even its super-periphery.
Dan Banik:
That resonates with what I’ve seen elsewhere in the Global South — leaders “playing the field,” engaging not only with the EU or the U.S., but also with China, Russia, and the Gulf states.
In Belgrade, that dynamic is visible everywhere. Tourists know the old town, but New Belgrade — with its skyscrapers and luxury malls — feels like Dubai on the Danube. Investors from Israel, Russia, and China are everywhere. So, while Serbia faces democratic backsliding, it also looks like an economic boomtown. How has this influx of new actors reshaped Serbia?
Nemanja Džuverović:
It’s a fascinating paradox. Democratic decline hasn’t halted economic growth — in fact, they’ve advanced together. Belgrade’s skyline tells that story. Over the past decade, foreign investment has poured in from China, Russia, and the Arab Gulf states.
China, in particular, has become our dominant economic partner. All our major highways and railways are built by Chinese firms; Chinese companies own much of our mining industry. Per capita, Serbia receives the highest level of Chinese investment in Europe.
COVID-19 accelerated that shift. While the EU focused inward, China sent vaccines and medical aid. The optics mattered — Serbians saw China as a reliable partner, while Europe appeared self-absorbed. Then the Ukraine war further pushed Serbia toward Beijing.
Dan Banik:
And somehow, Serbia remains on good terms with everyone — the EU, Russia, China, Israel, even Donald Trump. It’s almost admirable: a “friends-with-all” strategy. But as you say, beneath the glittering development, inequality is rising.
Nemanja Džuverović:
Exactly. Under socialism, Yugoslavia had remarkably low inequality. With the transition to a market economy, inequality rose — and now it’s soaring again. We lack progressive taxation or welfare mechanisms. Growth is visible, but benefits aren’t shared.
The student movement is, in part, a reaction to this. They see economic progress without justice. And while Serbia calls its approach a “multi-vector foreign policy,” it’s also a club of populists — many of our closest partners are non-democratic states.
Dan Banik:
Let’s go back to the protests. What’s remarkable is the discipline — the nonviolence, the care for public spaces. Students occupy the rectorate, but they keep it clean. They’ve built strong alliances with the media and use social media brilliantly. Professors like you have also stood beside them, even when it meant losing pay.
How has that experience been for you personally?
Nemanja Džuverović:
Honestly, none of us expected the movement to last this long. But when our students decided to occupy the Faculty of Political Science, it felt natural to support them. We teach civil disobedience, social justice, equality — now our students were living those ideals.
Public universities across Serbia, especially in Belgrade, stood with them. The government responded by cutting our salaries for several months, but there was also tremendous solidarity. People contributed to collective funds to help affected staff. Despite hardship, there was a shared sense of purpose — that something important was finally happening.
Dan Banik:
But sustaining momentum is hard. After months of protests, fatigue sets in. Parents worry about their children missing classes; students lose a year. Yet, student movements have a moral legitimacy that’s hard to replicate. Still, as repression grows, nonviolence becomes harder to maintain. Has the state response turned more violent recently?
Nemanja Džuverović:
Yes. In the last two months, state violence has escalated — police are using sonic weapons and special forces, and arrests happen daily. The students know prolonged mobilization is difficult, but they’ve also evolved. Some of their demands were formally met — the prime minister resigned — but real power lies with the president, who refuses to budge.
The movement has now entered a political phase. Students are planning to contest upcoming elections with their own list, alongside professors, teachers, and workers. Public polls suggest they could become Serbia’s second-largest political force.
Dan Banik:
That’s a major shift — from social movement to political actor. And they’ve done it without a single leader, making it harder for authorities to suppress.
But what about the established opposition? Shouldn’t they have been leading this charge?
Nemanja Džuverović:
The opposition is weak — partly their own fault, but also because the government controls nearly all media and portrays them as Western puppets. The student movement has refused formal cooperation, arguing that traditional parties had their chance. That’s understandable but risky. Ultimately, opposition parties and the students will need each other if they want real change.
Dan Banik:
Do you think students feel abandoned by the EU?
Nemanja Džuverović:
Absolutely. There’s a deep sense of disappointment. For years, pro-democratic Serbians saw the EU tolerate Vučić’s populist regime in exchange for “stability.” When the protests began, we expected clear EU support — but Brussels stayed silent.
The EU has shifted from a normative power to a confused geopolitical one. As one of my colleagues puts it, it’s like a second-generation migrant who’s forgotten the old language but hasn’t learned the new one. Young people now call themselves “Euro-realists.” They don’t hate the EU — they just don’t believe membership will ever happen.
Dan Banik:
And how is the U.S. viewed?
Nemanja Džuverović:
Older generations associate America with the 1990s bombings and see it negatively. Younger people are less emotional, but they don’t see tangible benefits either. Serbia backed Trump not out of love for Trumpism, but as a symbolic rejection of the Democratic establishment, which many here blame for recognizing Kosovo.
The U.S. today is seen as pragmatic — interested in Serbia only for strategic reasons: weapons for Ukraine, access to rare minerals, or maintaining the Kosovo status quo. It’s transactional, not transformational.
Dan Banik:
During my last visit, I sensed a widespread feeling that Serbia has been unfairly treated by the West — even a sense of victimhood. Yet, regionally, the Balkans are not all in decline. You’ve been leading the Balkan Peace Index. What does it tell us about the region as a whole?
Nemanja Džuverović:
Yes, we created the Balkan Peace Index to assess progress using local expertise rather than external templates. Over three years, we’ve measured seven domains: political violence, state capacity, regional cooperation, crime, pluralism, socioeconomic development, and environmental sustainability.
The results are mixed but not hopeless. Croatia, Albania, North Macedonia, and Montenegro are improving, with steady integration into Western institutions. Meanwhile, Serbia, Kosovo, and Bosnia lag behind. In Serbia, internal populism drives decline; in Bosnia and Kosovo, structural and external barriers keep them stuck.
Dan Banik:
That’s an important nuance — the region isn’t all chaos. Finally, Nemanja, how do you think these protests will end?
Nemanja Džuverović:
There are several scenarios. The most likely is change through the 2027 presidential election, when the current president can’t legally run again — unless, of course, he imitates Putin and swaps roles with the prime minister.
The students could also contest early elections, but given how unfree and unfair our system is, they’d probably lose — and that might lead to years of disillusionment. My hope is that they preserve their energy for the right moment — that decisive election — and then unite with opposition forces around a single candidate. That could trigger a domino effect of change.
Dan Banik:
Nemanja, it’s been a real pleasure to speak with you — and to work with you through the Circle U European University Alliance and the Democracy Hub. Your insights into Serbia’s democratic struggles — and the courage of its students — are inspiring.
Nemanja Džuverović:
Thank you, Dan. It’s always a pleasure. Despite everything, I still believe most Serbians are deeply pro-European and pro-democratic. The anti-European mood we see is often frustration — a feeling of being ignored. Initiatives like Circle U, and solidarity from colleagues across Europe, make a real difference.
We are part of Europe — part of its democratic family. I hope this movement reminds everyone, both inside and outside Serbia, of that.
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