By Biagio Carrano
From Novi Sad, of course. But also from Niš, Subotica, Zrenjanin, Sombor, as well as from Kragujevac, Jagodina, and Mladenovac, from Smederevo and Požarevac, and then from Šabac, Loznica, Valjevo, Užice, Kraljevo, Gornji Milanovac, and Lazarevac, as well as from the mountains of Novi Pazar, Ivanjica and Nova Varoš, and from the south – Vranje, Bujanovac, and Surdulica.
Caravans of students, after days of walking, are converging on Belgrade for the major protest to be held tomorrow, 15 March, “the 15 for the 15,” referring to the 15 victims of the roof collapse at Novi Sad station that triggered the protests.
Tonight, the first gathering is scheduled for 7:30 PM at Terazije. No fewer than two hundred thousand people are expected – peaceful demonstrations, according to the intentions of the organisers and participants. But the Great Wolf warns: “Their only goal is violence, they will be very aggressive, and even a great misdeed might be committed.”
A misdeed? Or the mislead of someone who no longer knows whom to trust? Politika, the country’s oldest and most p
restigious newspaper, now under government control, runs headlines on its front page: “Paramilitary formations preparing a coup,” “An arsenal of weapons found near Belgrade,” and alongside, an interview with
Dugin warning that protests will lead to Serbia’s fragmentation. Inside the newspaper, we find the Great Wolf’s explanation for it all: “USAID and other NGOs have financed the political crisis in Serbia.”
A political crisis? But where? In Parliament, the Serbian Progressive Party (which linguistically unskilled Balkanologists keep calling “progressist,” misleading those trying to understand, since it is actually a nationalist party that interprets progress merely as technical advancement and increased spending power for its beneficiaries, so they should call it progressive, alas forgotting the proverbial and actually fitting Leopardian sarcasm about this idea of progress: “the magnificent and progressive fates” (in Italian – “le magnifiche sorti e progressive”), the progressives therefore along with their socialist allies, passes every law – even with a caretaker government.
Opponents covertly pull smoke bombs from under their jackets and throw them (the ultra-nationalist Miloš Jovanović), spray fire extinguisher powder into the air (the green-red Radomir Lazović), and get into fistfights (Vladimir Đukanović, Uglješa Mrdić, Dragan Đilas, Bojan Torbica). In short, they cover Parliament in smoke and dust, making a mockery of themselves and confirming their political irrelevance and inability to understand or interpret the expectations behind the protests.
For their part, the progressives sabotage themselves, throwing water bottles (Žika Gojković) at colleagues (Jasmina Karanac), sending them to hospital. So, is this supposed to be a political crisis? At best, this spectacle provokes either hysterical laughter or tears over the sheer institutional inadequacy of the MPs.
But the loyalists repeat the slogans of every silent majority, even though they no longer feel like one: graffiti appears on the walls reading “Stop harassing people with protests,” “Students, go back to studying.” And this is where Serbian irony reaches its peak. The loyalists reveal their elementary school-level literacy flaws in their graffiti: instead of writing đaci (students), they confuse the letter đ with ć and invent the nonsense word ćaci. And so, a new term is born, mocking the loyalists – ćaci, essentially meaning ignorant, conformist supporters of the actual regime, who just want to live in peace and defend the status quo, whether for personal gain or simply out of complacency.
The ćaci set up brand-new tents in front of the Presidential Palace, saying, “We are students who just want to study and pass our exams,” though their age suggests they may haven’t been studying for a few decades. Meanwhile, the đaci film them, mock them, infiltrate their ranks, and wake them up at three in the morning – until the Great Wolf finally orders them to pack up.
The majority is still undeniably a majority in Parliament, but is it in the country? Loyalists have gone silent, long-time collaborators post videos of the protests, professionals who worked with ministries resign, the families of politicians in power prefer to leave early for their holidays abroad. After fourteen years of absolute dominance, are a few weeks of peaceful marching by teenagers and university students enough to make those who once strutted around the city, proud and revered, feel insecure?
The non-ćaci citizens, instead of complaining, cook homemade meals to offer to the đaci as they march or after their daily 15 minutes of silence. More than merely tolerating the disruptions, they support the students with money and donations. While the Great Wolf warns of imminent violence, grandmothers embrace the students as if they were their own grandchildren – the future they themselves never had.
So where will this violence come from? The young men we were used to seeing on the streets of Belgrade were the nationalist hooligans who smashed shop windows to loot them and set fire to the US Embassy in 2008, who attacked the Gay Pride march in 2015, who clashed with police on football derby days. Where have they gone? And how long will they stay quiet?
Will there be violence on Saturday, 15 March? The students know full well that they are neither prepared nor willing to incite or handle violent situations. They also know that violent incidents – especially if there were serious injuries or even deaths among law enforcement – would only lead to a backlash, stifling their peaceful uprising. On the other hand, those who keep bringing up violence sometimes hope for it, just as some opposition politicians, lacking both arguments and public support, do. After all, the student revolt is an indictment of the entire political class, and it is beginning to unsettle not only those in power but also those who were in power before and now hope to reach it – by exploiting the activism of those who see them not as allies, but as accomplices in the very problems they are denouncing.
Between the students’ unanswered questions and the politicians’ evasive responses, it will be a Saturday of chaos and celebration. Those who try to ruin it with acts of violence will make the country pay a heavy price in the future. And if you eat away at the future too – what is left? Even the wolves know that.