Editor-in-Chief's Op-Ed – How Can Serbia Regain Its Peace of Mind?

Through a gentleman’s agreement—that’s how.

Anything else leads us back to what we already have. Here in the newsroom, we know it’s not easy for you on the other side of the screen either. We read your comments—though we publish fewer of them now—and even the ones we approve are often of little substance. Serbia is a country of unsettled people. What Serbia needs most is a return to basic civic calm—or we’ll pay a steep price, even financially, if that’s what matters to anyone.

Here’s one possible route to restoring that civilizational need. It’s often repeated by tiresome people, but it remains true: following the Stoics, one must be tougher on oneself than on the village.

First, take a deep breath—and stop posting those kinds of comments. Forget about Musk’s Twitter circus—he’s already managed to pick fights with everyone, including Donald Duck. That’s a health tip from our Lifestyle > Wellness section, to help lower your blood pressure. Because that’s where trouble begins: hypertension, cancer’s younger sibling. Keep following the news, but stop treating the screen like a life-or-death football match (what is that, really, when Zvezda and Partizan nationalists clash?). This comes from a media professional: the media exists largely to keep you misinformed—or knowing the wrong things. And they’re good at it.

Social unrest, the sense of an extended “March 9” (date when the large protest happened in 1991 in Belgrade), hints of ethnic division where it’s most fragile, and at the same time announcements of price controls and cheap electricity to fight inflation... while the opposition clings to the 1389 myth—a year that arguably wasn’t even 1389. To older readers, what does this moment remind us of? A warning: we’re talking about a country where the crisis began in 1979, was felt by 1982, became acute in 1991, lasted a full decade with a peak in 1993, then declined by the early 2000s, only to wrap up just before the global crisis of 2008.

It’s easy to fall into the well here—the fence is low, and the well-keeper is mad.

Time capsules are opening again: two nights ago, Serbia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs advised citizens to avoid travel to Croatia between August 1–10. Statistically, Croatia is one of the safest EU countries and one of the safest in the world. Among the half-million Thompson fans on the Zagreb racetrack, real extremists are likely pleased with the news, while others wonder if Aleksandra Prijović will return to perform.

Many will pity us—and that’s a hard feeling, especially for Serbia’s many Dinaric-minded citizens.

Maintain basic civility. Don’t direct anger at “ordinary people.” Whether they support something or belong to something is irrelevant—deductive logic does not apply to living individuals. Restrain yourself before starting a feud with your neighbor, mother-in-law, or your own mother. Don’t curse regions, republics, or provinces—chances are, someone you love comes from there. Serbia is a land of settlers.

People who think differently are not all “bots.” Also, let’s stop pretending there’s anything wrong with a good sandwich—Italians make the best and most generous ones. The last Serb who didn’t like Italian cuisine—or (incidentally Catholic) Italy—died anonymously in the late 17th century. Recall your Serbian language and literature classes—endlessly repeating worn-out jokes is not stylistically justified.

Mockery is… crap. Repetitive mockery in the same tone deserves a beating.

These are the preconditions for any possibility of a gentleman’s agreement. Without it, there's a real fear we’ll tear each other apart. To start off healthy, this is enough: let’s be human—as requested by the late patriarch Pavle who, without a doubt, lived as a true Christian.

The gentleman’s agreement—it comes back in the end. It should, of course, include elections—but elections in which no one would feel compelled to protest in the streets. And before that, voting must be conducted peacefully. Elections per se are not a solution: in Serbia’s darkest political hour, in 1903, King Alexander was assassinated by officers, just after his faction had won decisively. The king was actually beloved by the people. So elections must be gentlemanly, even if candidates include scoundrels.

Who can help broker such an agreement in this wider, Morava-centered Serbia—prone to cursing and driven by nervous Dinaric genes?

Djuro Macut?

Maybe the business community—led by individuals still derisively called “tycoons”—could take on the task?

Mirko Radonjic

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