A City Remembers, a Nation Demands: Serbia's Youth Rise for Justice After a Year of Unanswered Questions

A chill hung in the air, a year to the day, as thousands gathered in Novi Sad, Serbia. It wasn't just another Friday evening; this was a pilgrimage of memory, a march for justice, spurred by a tragedy that, frankly, still stings. You see, it was exactly a year ago that a university canopy, a structure meant to shelter, instead collapsed, brutally claiming the lives of two bright young students. And so, the city, indeed the nation, remembered. But this was no quiet vigil, not really. It was a roar.

Led largely by a generation often accused of apathy – the youth, the students themselves – this demonstration wove together grief with a furious demand for answers. It felt, to many, like the wound was still raw, the sense of injustice palpable. They marched, quite deliberately, from the city center, their steps echoing the collective heartache, all the way to the site of the collapse at Novi Sad University’s Faculty of Technical Sciences. And what a sight it was: a river of people, holding aloft banners that spoke of remembrance, of outrage, and, yes, of hope for something better.

Candles flickered in the dusk, small defiant flames against the encroaching darkness. Flowers, fresh and vibrant, were laid, a silent tribute to those lost too soon. Among the crowd, their pain etched on their faces for all to see, were the parents of one of the victims, their voices heavy with sorrow yet resolute. They spoke, and you could feel it, the raw, unvarnished agony of a loss that time, apparently, hasn’t quite healed. They spoke of their children, of the dreams shattered, and then, crucially, they spoke of justice – or rather, the glaring lack of it.

“One year has passed, but we feel like it was yesterday,” Jelena Mandic, the mother of Dusan, one of the students killed, shared with the media. Her words, truly, carried the weight of a thousand tears. And then came the sharper edge: “Nobody has answered for this crime. It’s shameful.” That sentiment, that crushing sense of official impunity, that’s what really fueled the march. Because, let’s be honest, this wasn't just about a fallen canopy; it was about the crumbling trust in institutions, in governance itself.

This particular march, powerful and poignant as it was, wasn't an isolated event. Oh no. It dovetailed quite naturally, you could say, into the much broader, monthslong wave of anti-government protests that have been sweeping across Serbia. These larger demonstrations, a consistent thrum of discontent, target the perceived autocratic rule of President Aleksandar Vucic and his ruling Serbian Progressive Party. People are fed up, plain and simple, with what they see as rampant corruption, increasing media censorship, and a general erosion of democratic principles. It’s a simmering pot, and the Novi Sad tragedy just brought it to a furious boil.

The calls from the protesters were clear, almost a chant in their collective intensity: resignations. They want officials held accountable, they demand improved safety standards for public infrastructure, and they want, truly, a genuine reckoning with the corruption that many believe permeates the system. For once, perhaps, the young voices of Serbia, amplified by a profound sorrow, might just be heard. They marched not just for Dusan and Milica, the students who died, but for a Serbia where such tragedies aren't swept under the rug, where accountability isn't just a word, but a reality.