#41 The generational divide and political crisis in Serbia

The term “crisis” is often used without sufficient justification. Not every challenge qualifies as a crisis. However, it is this terminology that accurately describes the current situation in Serbia.

Since the ruling political coalition took power in 2012, it has faced sporadic protests. However, the demonstrations that erupted in November after Novi Sad train station’s roof collapsed, which led to the death of fifteen people, undoubtedly present the most significant challenge yet.

What accounts for this? The emergence of previously depoliticized youth, who are the primary catalyst behind the protest, represents a noteworthy phenomenon.

The protest, initially sparked by concerns over corruption and mismanagement in the construction sector connected to the tragedy, has evolved into a minor student uprising following multiple physical assaults on the protesters. Most university departments nationwide are currently “blocked”; classes and exams have been suspended, and students continue to occupy the campuses whilst having the support of their professors.

What makes this protest different? Why can't the government wait for the protest to die down, as it has many times before? A large turnout on the streets often failed to translate into votes on election day, and protests typically faded due to simple protest fatigue.

It all has to do with the generational separation.

Lucky strike (a wordplay, the cigarette brand is spelled differently) - one of the many creative badges worn by protesting students and their sympathizers

Similar to various other examples, when we analyze generations in politics, we frequently try to apply worldwide those analytical tools developed in the Western context. The separation of the Silent Generation (those born between the Great Depression and the end of World War II), Baby Boomers (1945-1965), Millennials, Gen Z, etc., was established within a specific context, and its application around the world is as pointless as questioning whether there was a “medieval” period in Japan.

What is a generation?

It is not merely a sum of individuals born in the same year. It is a group shaped by shared experiences, a group that lived through changing circumstances. As Karl Mannheim stressed, generations “participate in shared destiny”. Wilhelm Dilthey believed that every generation is shaped by its heritage, that each generation has a date of birth, a formative factor of education, generational experience, generational language, and that every generation is also shaped by the stagnation of the preceding generation.

Being part of the same generation does not determine political attitudes, but it causes a worldview to revolve around shared issues.

What are existing generations in contemporary Serbia? There are two clearly defined generations and two whose forms cannot be fully defined.

The oldest one comprises my parents' generation, specifically those individuals born approximately before 1960. This cohort witnessed life under Socialist Yugoslavia and faced the economic collapse of the 1990s. However, contrary to common assumptions, the pivotal experience shaping their current perspective is not the collapse of the 1990s but rather the subsequent “transition” that commenced post-2000, following the fall of Milošević.

This is the generation of the “transitional losers.”

The advent of capitalism and “normalization” of the relationship with the West was closely followed by privatizations, numerous layoffs, and the emergence of the new class of super-rich. The origin of this wealth was often questionable. In the words of one of the billionaires, “Ask me about my money but not about the origin of my first million.” Stability is the key concept for this generation, and the governing coalition exploits this by portraying any alternative to their rule as pure chaos. The current coalition solidified its popularity by arresting the aforementioned billionaire shortly after resuming power (don’t be surprised that he was never sentenced).

Defining individuals born approximately from the 1960s to the 2000s is more complicated.

The older part of this group reached their late 20s or early 30s in the 1990s. Just when life was supposed to take off, the sanctions hit. While the passport of Socialist Yugoslavia could get you almost anywhere, the 1990s made traveling nearly impossible due to both a lack of money and visa restrictions. The shift from Yugoslav arrogance—rooted in the comparative advantages of Tito’s rule over the rest of Eastern Europe, which fostered a sense of Yugoslav exceptionalism—to the harsh reality of waiting in line for bread and milk marked a difficult and abrupt transition. This made this generation particularly susceptible to two types of extremism.

One is often labeled as auto-chauvinism (I believe Zoran Ćirjaković coined the term), which is followed by simplistic convictions that everything about Serbia is rotten, corrupt, and irreparable. The core of what is known as the “Second Serbia” (purportedly more progressive than retrograde and nationalist “First Serbia”) comes from this group. The other part of this group went to another extreme, usually sticking to never-ending self-victimizing narratives. Above anyone else, Dragoslav Bokan epitomizes this view.

My generation (I was born in 1989) had an easier yet different path. We experienced both the changes of 2000 and the subsequent failures of larger ambitions. One of the electoral messages from the Western-oriented Democratic Party about fifteen years ago was “Both Kosovo and ЕU.” It gradually became evident that Serbia would not achieve either goal.

Compared to the generation that is in their twenties as we speak, my generation lacked the confidence to embrace or establish a cultural or political model. The 2000s were not a period of sattelzeit; there was no creation of social or political discourses. It felt as though we remained in a constant state of uncertainty, as if someone suddenly pulled the carpet from under our feet, leaving instability as the only certainty.

Every single one of the existing generations in Serbia, bar the youngest, went through an experience of unfulfilled ambitions and failed expectations. No one expressed this better than Dragan Torbica (played by Nikola Škorić), the legendary star of the short-form satirical comedy show Državni posao. While his colleague, the nepotistic son of a nouveau-rich family, explains that we have to be patient until a better life comes, Torbica goes on a rant:

“I've waited my entire life. Didn’t they tell us that during the Second World War, things would be better as soon as the war was over? Didn’t they tell us it would improve once we moved to the more fertile Vojvodina? Didn’t they tell us during the communist-led volunteer work actions it would be better right after we rebuilt the country? Didn’t they tell us it would be better to remove the technocrats? Didn’t they tell us it would be better right after the multi-party system is introduced? Didn’t they tell us it would be better once these last wars are finished? Didn’t they tell us it would be better after the sanctions are lifted? Didn’t they tell us it would be better after Milosevic resigns? Didn’t they tell us it would be better because we’re joining the EU? Didn’t they tell us it would be better right after the latest reforms? Didn’t they tell us it would be better now, just as we’re about to really really finalize the deal with the EU? Didn’t they tell us it would be better now that the new government is in place? When, when? Tell me so I can tell my kids and die in peace.”

Except for the youngest generation, every other one had enough life experience to conclude at one point that, “all politicians are the same,” a belief that was partly true, yet also crippling to any hope for meaningful change.

Yet young people, however, know only one kind of politicians: those currently in power. If you’re 30, the outcome has been the same in every election since you became eligible to vote. Furthermore, the youngest generation lacks the defining characteristic of all previous generations: the inherent pessimism shaped by experience. While the learned helplessness of the older generation might lead them to argue that the last significant student protests from 1996 produced leaders who turned out to be poor politicians, the younger generation, in fact, couldn’t care less about this.

Moreover, students’ opinions are not moldable by traditional media channels; in this regard, they are the complete opposite of the oldest ones, whose high support for the government is in significant part linked to the carefully controlled media scene.

A prominent expert on public opinion surveys in Serbia recently acknowledged that even people like him struggle to understand what the youth stand for, as they do not engage with individuals like him. They would just hang up if someone called. I believe that, more often than not, the youngest ones do not fully know what they stand for, but they are aware of what they oppose. While this may seem like a negative side effect, it is not. This represents a rare protest in Serbia’s protest-rich history that has no immediate connection to the country’s foreign policy.

We should remember that student protests are challenging for any government to manage. Students represent a significant demographic that can mobilize quickly and effectively. Their protests often attract public sympathy due to their perceived idealism and lack of vested interests. Widespread unrest among them can signal more profound dissatisfaction with governance, policies, or societal structures, challenging the government’s legitimacy. Student protests often garner extensive media coverage, drawing national and international attention. This can tarnish a government’s reputation, especially in cases of harsh crackdowns. Protests can grow into broader movements involving other segments of society, such as workers, unions, or political opposition groups - which might be precisely where Serbia is heading.

What can the government do? Not much, it seems. It cannot fulfill some of the student requests. Its stubborn rejection of publishing the full documentation regarding the collapsed roof of the train station leads one to believe that the documentation might reveal clear examples of incompetence or corruption at the highest levels. Luckily, Serbia is not like some countries where pro-Palestinian protesting students are threatened with expulsion from universities. Unlike some groups of civil servants, united students cannot be blackmailed by the government.

Generational dynamics shed light on the distinct characteristics of these protests. Older generations, shaped by failed transitions and broken promises—from Socialist Yugoslavia to the post-2000 privatization period—exhibit a sense of disillusionment and cynicism. In contrast, the youngest generation, having only known the current ruling coalition, strongly rejects the existing status quo, holding views untainted by the pessimism common among older individuals.

Students, largely untouched by government-controlled media and other traditional influences, present a significant challenge. Their protests, which are not directly tied to the country’s foreign policy or partisan divides, resonate strongly with widespread dissatisfaction over governance, corruption, and systemic mismanagement. They have the potential to either pressure the government into implementing systemic changes or, in the future, unite and mobilize the typically fragmented voter demographics that are dissatisfied with the government's performance.