I wanted to find a perfect three-word English phrasing for what we are witnessing, but the truth is that each option would fall short of the reality of the last four months. As philosopher Boris Buden stated “Europe is not able to translate the events taking place is Serbia in the language of its decadent politics”.

1st of November 2024, 11:52 AM; Novi Sad, Serbia. I don’t remember the last time when a particular moment, a split of a second, was so strongly imprinted into my country’s (social) history. The minute in which the persistence of the corruption-intoxicated system resurfaced in the most brutal way, killing 15 innocent civilians who were standing underneath the canopy of the ‘recently renovated’ railway station which then collapsed. How far does dysfunction have to go for the turning point to happen? I kept asking myself. The day to come answered my question, as firstly – people started gathering for a 15-minute silent vigil – each minute symbolising one victim.

Soon after, the protests became student run, as the students of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade were attacked at one of these peaceful commemorations, thus triggering the whole student community of the country to take the matter of injustice in their hands. Since then, the university campuses became the epicentres of solidarity, community building, and – resistance.

Tara Marković, 2025

This course of events is something that most of the mainstream media already reported on. A straightforward scenario, charged with the civil unrest and demonstrations – in the region that is already known to the world as a rarely peaceful one. However, what is largely and repeatedly being missed on is the complexity behind the organisation of the blockades, the collective efforts in the blockades that – contrary to its essential meaning – unblocked functionality, mutual work, care, respect and self-governance, giving new connotations to what direct participation of a plurality of voices sounds and looks like. By putting the principles of direct democracy into practice, the students have been successfully blocking the universities for more than 100 days. When I say successfully, I don’t mean that they have (only) managed to occupy the buildings and stop the academic year programme. They have successfully organised numerous marches, protests and public gatherings, assemblies and discussions where the general population joined in numbers that haven’t been seen since the student protests in 1996-97 (that ultimately led to the coup of the 5th October 2000). As I am writing this (March 15th 14.55), the largest protest in the country’s history is filling the streets of Belgrade, with hundreds of thousands of people marching, chanting and applauding each other. A dominant image which became an epitome for the solidarity networks and alliances formed within the protest-movement, is that of a tractor, with land workers playing a key role in securing safety in public gatherings and shielding the people. Another striking resemblance with the events of October 2000, colloquially known as the bulldozer revolution (the digger machine in question was misidentified, yet it is impossible to downplay the message this image sent). There is strength in reawakening the social imaginary with heavy machinery.

The cultural landscape of the country is perhaps the sphere of public life most visibly reshaped by the movement. Throughout the years, public spaces once belonging to students have either been repurposed or taken away the right of, decreasing the opportunities for creative expression of the students and the youth of the country. Reclaiming these spaces and creating a new, self-directed agenda without any need of hierarchy, higher authority or supervisory guidelines, the students have redefined the nature of cultural work. These actions have challenged the current modus operandi and state of cultural institutions in Serbia, as gradually depoliticised and neutralised, sinking into the logic of “doing the bare minimum”. Once occupied, these spaces reclaimed their historical relevance. The occupied, or as students declared, “liberated” Student cultural centre in Belgrade (SKC) is a prime example of the funcion cultural infrastructure could serve, providing space for artistic experiments, plenaries, discussions and shelter.

What has emerged is a new kind of collectivism, a restoration of faith which four months ago seemed impossible. The protests are nameless and faceless, in the best possible way imaginable. The rhetoric is always “we”. The students appear in the media by taking turns, every time a different face representing the same group. The narrative is always a plural one, each student represents the students, yet not one name sticks out, which is why the authorities are having such a hard time and showing desperate attempts in targeting them. This movement has shown that the times of needing a leader, a face and a cult of personality to bring about change are over.

Behind all of these monumental, and now already historical efforts stand only (but not only!) – people. The results of these efforts are fortunately visible and infectious, but the affective elements that come into play and reshape (and intertwine) the lives of these individuals, creating an emotional imprint for the collective future of the society are something that maybe – as these dynamic events are still unfolding, we don’t seem to find time or space to stop and reflect on. Unfolding affective narratives of the protests, therefore, are creating space for a more organic and personal forms of narrating the biggest student-led protests in 21st century Europe.

From an urgency felt to capture and preserve all the elements that make these protests so authentic and so highly organised, but in its truest form – without attempting to find a description – an initiative of digital protest archive called Skup Skupova was born and is currently starting to unfold, collecting the protest material ranging from the banners to videos of cultural events organised in blocked/liberated spaces.