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It has been 365 days since the canopy collapsed on the recently reconstructed train station in Novi Sad (Serbia), killing sixteen people. In that single moment, a symbol of progress became a monument to corruption, negligence, and the moral decay of a system that has failed its citizens time and again. What followed has been nothing short of cathartic for Serbia – a year marked by grief, defiance, and an unprecedented outpouring of civic energy.
Over the past year, Serbia has been shaken by protests, police brutality, and an extraordinary wave of student mobilisation that has come to represent the nation’s collective conscience. What began as an outcry against corruption has grown into the largest and most enduring student-led movement in modern European history.
On November 1st 2025 – exactly one year after the tragic collapse of the canopy – more than 100,000 people gathered in Novi Sad to honour the victims and to show that the spirit of resistance remains alive. Yet, the following day, tensions deepened. The mother of one of the victims, Ms Dijana Hrka, announced that she would begin a public hunger strike outside the Serbian National Parliament, vowing to continue until her demands – including the call for snap elections – are met.
Since March 2025, members of the ruling Serbian Progressive Party have maintained a tent camp outside Parliament, effectively blocking one of Belgrade’s main roads. From this camp, they have harassed citizens who came to support Ms Hrka, playing cheerful music in front of a grieving mother – while the police stood by and failed to intervene. This is still a developing story, the resolution of which remains to be seen.
But how did Serbia get here? The protests erupted in the immediate aftermath of the collapse, as evidence mounted that corruption had plagued the reconstruction process – and that this corruption had directly caused the tragedy. But the movement took on a new dimension after members of the ruling Serbian Progressive Party assaulted students from the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade. Outraged, students across the country rose up. They launched an eight-month (or longer) physical blockade of universities, transforming campuses into strongholds of resistance and debate.
Their demands were clear and simple: four points, including the release of all documentation related to the train station’s reconstruction. Yet, seven months later, the Serbian government had failed to fulfil them. And so, since May 2025, the student movement has consolidated around one central demand – that President Aleksandar Vučić call snap elections.
In these elections, students plan to put forward their own list of 250 parliamentary candidates – their identities still kept secret. But the government has refused to heed their call, and the standoff continues.
Over the past year, the students have not confined their struggle to Serbia’s borders. They have walked across the country, welcomed by cheering crowds who saw in them the promise of liberation. They have organised protests in every major city, culminating in the historic demonstration on 15 March in Belgrade – when, according to some estimates, over 350,000 people filled the streets demanding justice and accountability. They have cycled to Strasbourg and run an ultramarathon to Brussels, hoping to awaken Europe’s conscience to the erosion of democracy in Serbia – a candidate state to join the bloc.
The government’s response has been nothing short of disastrous. Officials have accused the students – and the West – of orchestrating a “colour revolution” to overthrow the government, a claim amplified by Vučić’s allies in the Kremlin. Serbian tabloids went so far as to accuse our own organisation, the Henry Jackson Society, of conspiring with the British state against Belgrade, simply because we hosted a panel with Serbian students and other relevant stakeholders to discuss the protests.
The authorities have not stopped at words. There have been credible accusations of excessive police force, and even claims that a Long Range Acoustic Device (LRAD) – a weapon typically used for crowd control – was deployed against peaceful demonstrators during the March protest.
As the regime has grown more desperate, its propaganda has turned increasingly absurd. State-controlled media floated a baseless theory that the canopy collapse was the result of a terrorist attack. And outside the presidential building, the authorities erected “Ćaciland” – a tent camp supposedly full of student supporters of the regime. In reality, it is populated by hired thugs and party loyalists posing as students.
That President Vučić has chosen such tactics should surprise no one. He has ruled Serbia for thirteen years with an ever-tightening grip, steadily dismantling democratic institutions and silencing dissent.
What is more alarming, however, is the muted reaction of Western governments. With the exception of the European Parliament – which recently passed one of its harshest resolutions on Serbia to date – most Western leaders have either remained silent or limited themselves to empty statements.
Worse still, they continue to strike deals with Vučić, clinging to the delusion that appeasement might steer him back toward the West. But if the Russian invasion of Ukraine taught us anything, it is that appeasement never works. Authoritarian leaders, especially those as politically seasoned as Vučić, will always exploit compromise for personal and political gain.
And yet, despite the silence abroad, something remarkable has happened at home. Ordinary Serbs – long dismissed as apathetic or resigned – have woken up. They have had enough of corruption, manipulation, and fear. In towns and villages across the country, people are finding their voices again, united by a simple demand for justice.
For too long, the West has looked away, content to prioritise short-term stability over democratic principles. But Serbia’s citizens have shown that they no longer fear their rulers – and that true stability can only come from freedom and accountability.
Serbia has woken up. It is time for the West to do the same.
- Ryan Stinger is The Henry Jackson Society’s Chief Operating Officer
