In an exclusive interview for the portal kdp.mk, Nenad Čanak – a former politician, founder of the League of Social Democrats of Vojvodina, and today one of the most outspoken critics of Serbia’s civil society – speaks candidly about the deep political, institutional, and societal crisis engulfing the country. From the tragic collapse of the railway station canopy in Novi Sad to the mass protests led by students, Čanak analyzes the consequences of a regime built on corruption, fear, and populist nationalism. He warns that Serbia has reached a critical turning point where, even if President Aleksandar Vučić steps down, his legacy may be a ruined country without functional institutions.
Interview by Seladin Xhezairi
What is actually happening in Serbia?
Nenad Čanak: The question is simple, but the answer is much more complex. The collapse of the railway station canopy in Novi Sad on November 1, 2024, triggered a wave of protests that were initially spontaneous gatherings of emotionally shocked citizens with no clear political agenda—something similar to the mass protests following the school massacre at “Ribnikar” and in the Dubona area. However, unlike previous cases, this tragedy was not the result of an individual act but a disaster clearly linked to the regime’s direct responsibility—its incompetence, corruption, lack of professionalism, and rigged tenders. That’s why the gatherings didn’t fade away like before, but concrete demands were put forward: the resignations of the Prime Minister and the Mayor of Novi Sad, the full disclosure of documentation on the station’s reconstruction, and clear identification and punishment of those responsible.
It later became clear that the regime would never allow individuals close to its inner circle—such as Minister Goran Vesić—to face justice. A few low-ranking individuals were arrested but quickly released, leaving the power elite untouched. The Prime Minister and Mayor resigned, but were replaced by officials from the same ruling majority. Minister Vesić disappeared completely from public life—reportedly even left the country.
After that, students from the University of Novi Sad took over the protests, blocking faculties and spreading the revolt across the country. The regime initially tried to ignore the situation, expecting the demonstrators to tire—as had happened before—but this time that didn’t occur. The protests turned into road and city blockades, while police increasingly resorted to violence—only fueling the demonstrators’ resolve, convincing them they must not back down or face harsh retaliation.
The main demand has been early elections. Is that still the case?
Čanak: Initially, yes. But doubts have now emerged. The people being put forward as candidates on the so-called “student list” are not, as initially promised, individuals with no political background—but rather promoters of the expansionist “Greater Serbia” ideology, defenders of Russian and “Republika Srpska” policies. In essence, they are ideological clones of the current regime, with even more nationalist myth-making and populism.
The Kremlin’s distancing from Vučić—personified in recent writings by the ideologue of the “Russian World,” Alexander Dugin—suggests that Russian intelligence has secured a strong foothold within the anti-regime protest movement. As a result, Vučić is increasingly and loudly reaffirming his “loyalty” to Moscow—for example, by halting Serbia’s covert supply of ammunition to Ukraine, which has reportedly been happening with Russian knowledge since 2022.
Vučić is weaker in the sense that the fear-based respect he enjoyed for a decade is fading. But that doesn’t make him less capable of defending his power. He combines money—accessed through non-transparent foreign loans—with total control of Serbia’s monopolized media landscape (practically all TV stations are under his control) and a well-developed apparatus of violence. Unlike Milošević, who primarily relied on the police and military, Vučić’s main support comes from organized criminal groups—some of whom use police badges without serial numbers and wear uniforms. Police officers now wear masks to conceal their identities, and routinely exceed their powers during clashes with demonstrators.
What will be the outcome—who will win and who will lose?
Čanak: At the moment, everyone is losing. The government cannot function normally, and the demonstrators cannot topple it. This is partly because there is no coherent political platform offering a clear alternative—politically or in terms of leadership.
Vučić will likely leave power within the next two years, but not sooner—primarily because of EXPO 2027, which is scheduled to be held in Belgrade. Officially, the event is expected to cost around €17 billion—compare that to the 2024 Paris Olympics, which cost €8.5 billion. This is clearly a massive money-laundering operation. After that, it will hardly matter who takes over from Vučić—because they will inherit a burned and sold-out country, where the few remaining valuable assets will be in the hands of Vučić’s inner circle, and the national debt will exceed €110 billion.
Is the political landscape in Serbia changing permanently?
Čanak: It has already changed completely. Existing parties have lost almost all legitimacy. On one hand, they wasted the public’s energy during the failed “Alliance for Serbia” protests and later during the inconclusive “Serbia Against Violence” movement. Their role in parliament is now a caricature—utterly meaningless.
On the other hand, the students have distanced themselves so much that the parties have been pushed to the margins of political life in Serbia. That may not be such a loss, since most of them share the same narratives as the regime—on Kosovo, Srebrenica, Ukraine, and other issues. There are virtually no civic parties. Serbia has essentially reverted to a pre-multiparty system era, meaning new parties and the entire democratic framework must be rebuilt from scratch. This level of one-party dictatorship and arrogance hasn’t been seen since Yugoslav times.
You and your family have once again been targeted. Do you feel endangered?
Čanak: The mother of my son spent more than two months in detention without a single formal charge—accused of planning a “coup” based on an illegally recorded conversation between some activists ahead of the March 15 demonstrations. She was transferred to house arrest only after a hunger strike that nearly killed her.
My son was arrested on his way to a protest in Belgrade and interrogated by the Interior Ministry and intelligence agency BIA for eight hours. I’ve received clear warnings—people have entered my apartment in my absence, removed objects, and then returned them to visible places—a message that they can access my food, clothes, anything, and can frame or poison me at will.
But I’ve lived through all this before—during the Milošević era. What gives me hope now is that this time, lustration and justice might reach far more culprits than they did in 2000.