
In Serbia, an increasingly stark divide is materializing between the government of President Aleksandar Vučić and a resurgent grassroots opposition movement led largely by students and civic groups, with the tension reaching a symbolic crescendo in two contrasting cities—Belgrade and Novi Pazar. On April 12, 2025, Belgrade witnessed the second day of a government-organized mass rally titled Ne damo Srbije (“We Will Not Give Up Serbia”), orchestrated under the aegis of Vučić’s ruling Serbian Progressive Party (SNS) and designed both as a spectacle of loyalty and a counter-mobilization to months of protest. Thousands of SNS supporters, many reportedly transported in from across Serbia, gathered in a choreographed show of force before the National Assembly. The capital’s streets were lined with tents, national flags, and kiosks distributing free food and beverages, while multiple stages were erected to host political speeches and patriotic performances.
Observers and civil society organizations raised concerns about the voluntary nature of many attendees’ presence, citing reports of coercion or pressure, a longstanding practice in Balkan political mobilizations. In the afternoon, organizers announced that participants would be invited to propose a name for a new political movement under Vučić’s direction, and would have the opportunity to ask him questions—an attempt to simulate participatory politics amid a tightly controlled environment. The central event of the day was Vučić’s evening address, preceded by speeches from his supporters, including university professors and students aligned with the regime, interspersed with cultural performances.
In his speech, Vučić condemned the student protests that have rocked Serbia over the past five months, calling for students to return to their faculties and urging the prosecution of those allegedly responsible for what he labeled “violence”—including professors, journalists, and the students themselves. He ominously suggested that prosecutors who failed to act should also face consequences. He further asserted that the conclusions of the gathering would define the trajectory of Serbia’s development until 2035, casting the moment as epochal.
Yet the reality on the ground is far from unified. Parallel to the choreographed fervor in Belgrade, opposition voices reverberated in Novi Pazar, a historically diverse city in southwestern Serbia. At precisely 10:00 a.m., student protesters, who had marched or cycled into the city overnight, launched a twelve-hour demonstration. Local citizens welcomed them with emotional support, fireworks, and hospitality, providing food and drink. The city streets were flooded not only with protestors but also with massive car convoys, forming kilometers-long processions arriving to join or observe the demonstration. The protest was not without conflict. Early in the morning, a group of students blocked a major intersection to prevent buses carrying SNS supporters from leaving for Belgrade. Serbian police responded with force, forcibly dispersing the students and reportedly injuring at least one.
These protestors demand accountability for a series of incidents emblematic of what they claim is systemic state corruption and authoritarian abuse. Chief among their demands is a full disclosure of the documentation related to the collapse of the Novi Sad railway station’s canopy—an event they attribute to negligence and graft. They also seek an investigation into the mysterious panic that disrupted a previous protest in Belgrade a month ago, amid widespread suspicion that authorities may have deployed a sonic weapon to intimidate demonstrators. Moreover, they demand responsibility from those who permitted President Vučić and select journalists to walk through an intensive care unit housing victims of the deadly nightclub tragedy in Kočani—a highly controversial move interpreted by many as a cynical PR stunt. Vučić dismissed this last accusation with a tone of disdain, stating that he had entered the hospital on his own initiative, without requesting permission.
While pro-government media celebrated the mass participation in Belgrade, civic organizations that had coordinated the March 15 anti-government protests urged Belgraders to protest symbolically during Vučić’s address by banging pots and blowing whistles—a sonic counterpoint to what they described as a state-imposed culture of silence and fear.
The day’s confrontations extended beyond rhetoric. In several towns, citizens reacted angrily to the organized transport of SNS supporters. In Bačka Palanka, a bus window was shattered with a slingshot. In Obrenovac, buses carrying pro-government attendees were pelted with eggs by local residents, indicating rising frustration even in traditionally more passive communities.
On the international front, a smaller but symbolically potent movement is in motion. A group of student cyclists is en route to Strasbourg to alert the Council of Europe and the European Parliament to the deteriorating state of democratic norms in Serbia. They seek to bring attention to the escalating repression, political violence, mass arrests, and the deportation of foreign nationals who supported the protest movement. Having received a warm welcome in Munich the previous evening, the group now continues toward Ulm, hoping that their journey across Europe will amplify the voices of those in Serbia who feel silenced or ignored by both their government and the broader international community.
This bifurcation between state-staged spectacle and genuine civic dissent shows the fragility of Serbia’s democratic institutions and the deepening polarization of its political landscape. With Vučić vowing to shape the nation’s future through events like Ne damo Srbije, and a defiant youth movement refusing to capitulate, Serbia finds itself at a crossroads. The struggle now unfolding is not merely over political power, but over the very meaning of public space, civic agency, and the possibility of a democratic future.
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