The New Resistance: Aftermath of the Serbian Revolution
On 5 October 2000, almost twelve years ago, Serbia has won its freedom. Its people have ousted Slobodan Milošević, and ended an almost ten-year-long rule of the Serbian Socialist Party (SPS). And then what? For the next twelve years, have the Serbs seen any improvement?
The key to revolution’s success was a youth organization called Otpor. Today, Otpor’s founders are traveling across the globe to teach the tactics they used to other nations. A typical session might include wisdom like this:
“Do a small thing and if it is successful, you have the confidence to do another one and another one,” Popovic said. “You recruit people, train them, and keep them constantly active. You hit, proclaim victory — and get the hell out. If it is successful, people will come to you. Participating in small successes, you build self-confidence. Nonviolent struggle changes the way people think of themselves.” — “Revolution U”, Foreign Policy, 16 February 2011
Have people really changed the way they think of themselves, though? Twelve years after the 5 October revolution in Serbia, I’ve talked to many young people that participated directly or indirectly in the events, and observed the people around me. There is definitely a permanent change that resulted from the past events. But I also feel those changes are not exactly what Popović and others thought or hoped they’d be.
Economic situation in Serbia is not at all good. This country is still transitioning towards free market capitalism, and western-style parliamentary democracy still hasn’t rooted itself in the Serbian collective consciousness. Some of the today’s students are again involved in protests, still looking for a definitive change towards a better society. There are voices that claim 1990s were vastly better.
During the 1990s, Serbia was under economic blockade imposed by the western countries. Trade with most other countries was virtually non-existent. Domestic production (mainly foods) and smuggling formed the basis of day-to-day survival. Inflation was unimaginably high, and paychecks usually invalidated in under 12 hours. Those crisis, however, had a sense of reality to it that people knew what to do with. They were desperate, but not apathetic. They fought and prevailed in the end.
During the 78-day NATO military campaign over Serbia in 1998, I felt most strongly the high spirit of survivalism in Serbia. Although, as a foreigner, I have had problems myself, I still adored this energy, and things used to be fun during those times. Most people did not fear. The Early 1990’s economic crisis seemed like the worst they survived, and that nothing could ever break them. Unfortunately, this was the last climax of the Serbian spirit before it was permanently smashed after the 5 October revolution in 2000.
Today’s crisis is different. People are drowning in debt, struggling at the verge of existence, constantly pressed to make ends meet. Whether one will earn enough to pay the electricity bills that are several month overdue has become a common concern. Even worse, poverty brought about a tremendous storm of corruption, and young mothers in some Serbian cities have a realistic concern of having to come up with bribes in excess of their monthly income simply to prevent their child from being murdered by corrupted doctors. (Of course, you won’t see these in news, but I actually know people who are concerned about this.) The everyday stress is slowly but surely breaking people into fatalist, apathetic wrecks.
Unlike in 1990s, though, the lack of immediate and obvious danger suspends them between an illusion that they might make it, and the actual poverty that surrounds them. They are locked in passivity and insensitivity, hoping subconsciously for a hero that would salvage them from the bad situation they are in, instead of believing in their own power as Otpor’s former leaders would like to think (or have us think at least).
The danger of the new situation is that the minimum level of survival is still guaranteed (or at least most people think so). This provides a tiny safe spot in the sea of poverty, that people can cling on to. People usually fight if they believe there is no place to go, but as long as they have something, they will stick to it, and not try to move for the fear of losing this foothold.
Another phenomenon I’ve observed talking to people is that there are people who actually believe it’s much better now. The case is usually that things are somewhat better than having to scrape for life, but only for them alone. For example, graphic designers are now sought for, unlike before the revolution, and most graphic designers can get decent jobs as a result. (“Decent”, is of course, subject to debate.) Talking to these people, you quickly realize they have very little understanding of the current situation, and that they, essentially, live in a surreal world that heavily draws on the ideas of the early 2000s. These people are, I feel, as spiritually wrecked as the poor, and they invent this illusion of a better Serbia in order to cover it up. For them, if something is wrong, then it is the direct result of the evils Slobodan Milošević did over a decade ago, and everything else is “fine and dandy” until proven otherwise. This distortion creates a much bigger danger to the society at large, as such undisillusionable people are more likely to have a reactionary attitude, in case people decide to oppose the new powers in Serbia.
While the former Otpor leaders, now working as CANVAS, are selling their ideology to countries around the globe that are only too eager to jump on the revolutionary bandwagon, people have to be aware of the consequences of such revolutions. The art of war is not the same as the art of post-war. What remains after a non-violent revolution is not much better than what remains after a war: a sea of spiritually wrecked people that are even weaker and even more susceptible to manipulation than before. Or perhaps, financiers of CANVAS actually look forward to sailing on those seas?
