The Left Berlin News & Comment

This is the archive template

Month: April 2025

Red Flag: Wedding Says No to New Weapons Factories

In his weekly column, Nathaniel Flakin tells us the long rebellious history of a car factory now used to make munitions.


27/04/2025

Wedding is full of old factory buildings, many of which have been converted into art spaces, such as the Pankehallen or the Gerichtshöfe. But the Pierburg factory on Scheringstraße, right next to Humboldthain park, is an exception. It is an old factory that is now… a factory.

Pierburg makes car parts, but it belongs to the German weapons consortium Rheinmetall. Their stock price has been soaring as the German government commits hundreds of billions of euros to new weapons — and they need new facilities to make demand. Hence, the Wedding workshop is going to be retooled to make munitions.

This isn’t an isolated case. In Görlitz, a factory currently making trams will soon roll tanks off the conveyor belts. According to the Red Cross, weapons factories can be considered as legitimate military targets. Who would want such a thing in a residential neighborhood, next to a public swimming pool? That’s why a demonstration against this will take place on May 10.

But this factory has a history going back to the 1850s, when this area became known as the Red Wedding.

Revolutionary History

The facility on Scheringstraße once belonged to the Berliner Maschinenbau AG (BMAG), founded by Louis Schwartzkopf. While they made all kinds of metal tools, their specialty was torpedos, which they provided to the German navy in two world wars.

However even while they were producing instruments of war, the workers there struggled to stop war. During World War I, Berlin’s munitions workers went on strike again and again. This workforce was particularly militant: they would put down their tools and march to nearby factories to pick up more workers. Of the 33 elected representatives here, 32 were independent socialists or Spartacists.

One of the leading worker-activists was Erich Habersaath, a 25-year-old toolmaker and a leader of Berlin’s socialist youth. When the revolutionary wave reached Berlin on November 9, 1918, Habersaath was marching at the head of a massive demonstration toward the Maikäferkaserne, the old “Beetle Barracks” on Chauseestraße (where the foreign intelligence service BND now has its headquarters). With their red flags, these workers called on the young soldiers to join the uprising.

The Berlin insurrection was largely peaceful. But at this barracks, officers shot into the crowd, killing Habersaath. Eleven days later, he was buried at the Cemetery of the March Fallen in Friedrichshain, where you can still see his grave. In 1951, a street in the East Berlin part of Wedding was named Habersaathstraße. That was in the news recently when a building on that street was occupied by homeless people.

Workers’ Interests

What do workers in this factory think today? I don’t think anyone can say for sure. But the millionaire bureaucrats who run the metalworkers’ union IG Metall have been generally positive about the German state’s rearmament. This kind of military Keynesianism, they say, will guarantee good jobs. 

Individual workers have every interest in well-paid, secure jobs — but the working class has no interest in producing elements of destruction. As German cities crumble due to austerity, money is being spent on things to destroy other factories.

Unions need to call for jobs — but also for workers’ control of the factory. The producers themselves, in consultation with working people across the country and the world, should decide what is needed. We need neither car parts nor bullets, but trams, trains, and e-bikes. We need schools, hospitals, and above all affordable housing.

The workers of Scheringstraße have shown, again and again for the last 150 years, that they have the power to not only shut down production of arms, but to radically change society. The demonstration on May 10 should help workers start to recognize this unstoppable power, even if it is currently latent.

Red Flag is a weekly column on Berlin politics that Nathaniel Flakin has been writing since 2020. After moving through different homes, it now appears on Friday at The Left Berlin.

“If They Discover That I Am An Activist Directly, I’ll Be Killed”

Interview with Congolese climate activist Daniel Kalalizi


26/04/2025

What is your name and what do you do?

My name is Daniel Kalalizi. I am a student of Physics in Bukavu, capital of the South Kivu province, in eastern Congo. I’m also a climate activist here in the Congo. I  work with many movements, local organizers and some international organizations.

Before the rebels of M23 arrived, our activism was about plastic waste and to oppose the use of plastics in our city, because they are very dangerous to our health. They destroy lakes, we don’t have as many fish due to plastics. Which is why, last year, before the capture of our area by the M23 rebels, we held many campaigns, actions, meetings with the local population about the use of plastics, and its consequences. And there was a rise against plastic waste.

As a physicist, I also worked with a local organization to transform our plastic waste into a cement replacement to be used for pavements.

And what has changed recently?

I’ve run many campaigns about climate change in our area and had many articles written. But it is very hard for me to move or do anything as an activist due to the occupation of the M23 rebels here, in our eastern part of Congo. They took our area two months ago. They began in Goma and one month ago they came here, to Bukavu city, the capital of South Kivu. The schools stopped due to the dangerous situation in which we were plunged. 

They fought against our defense forces, the FARDC — the army of the Congo. They fought right here in our village, where I am now. The rockets landed on the roads near our house. Since their arrival here in Bukavu and Goma, everyone has been anxious. Activists were killed and now we don’t have any in our area because if they discover that you are an activist, you will be killed directly. Because of our activism, they think that we are against their movements and that we  oppose their struggle. They kill people in whichever manner they want. 

What do the rebels want in your area?

Their first quest is to control the area because when you control the area, you can do whatever you want there, because you are considered the owner. When they are in our city, our area, they control it. 

When the war in the Congo began, it began here in its eastern part, over our mines. As we are here in the eastern part of the Congo, we have the highest level of mining and they want it. In North Kivu, in Goma, they mine and what they mine is sold in Rwanda for a low price. It is blood mining. To obtain it was to pour the blood of innocents.

We know our country. We say no Congo, no phone. That phone that I am using here was made by Congolese mining. No Congo, nothing.

They are also taking tax. If you sell flowers in the street, you will have to give something to them as tax. They control the tax, the mining, and the land. They do whatever they want. They control the movement of people, they control schools, they do whatever they want. 

They say in their speeches that they are liberators, but liberators don’t pour out the blood of innocents. They are killing people with their weapons, they are taking people by force. They are not liberators.

And what’s your personal situation?

Some of my friends who are activists, they’re in another area. I am still alone here as an activist among persons with whom I work. People don’t study very well. We have nothing to eat. If they discover that you are an activist, you will be killed. If they discover that I am an activist directly, I’ll be killed.

My friends and fellow activists have already gone because they have passports. But among our circle of activists, I’m alone and stranded here because I don’t have a passport. And without one I can’t leave. In Kinshasa I would have an opportunity to get my passport and to travel as I want. I have missed many, many occasions to participate in conferences outside Africa because I don’t have a passport. But now, as we are in this war, it is even more difficult  for me to get one.

But we are in the eastern part of the Congo, and Kinshasa is in the western part of the Congo. It will be very difficult to arrive in Kinshasa. So I have to go to the border of Rwanda, and there I can get a document which replaces a passport. This document can also allow me to travel to Rwanda and from there to Kenya or Ethiopia. From there I can take the plane and arrive in Kinshasa. 

But something which can be difficult is to have money to pay for transport in the plane. But if I have the money I can even go tomorrow and get my passport.

What are your plans if you get your passport?

I just wish to be in security, wherever that will be. But I would like to return here to continue my studies, even if we are not studying like we studied before the occupation. We were working and fighting for our country, for climate justice, for peace in our country. But the people who are here, occupying our area, came here and destroyed everything. But we will fight injustice in our area.

My target is to save my life by obtaining these documents which will allow me to do whatever I can. And I would be very very grateful for any solidarity that can help me to get there.

If you would like to support Daniel, you can donate to this fundraiser.

The Revolution Will Not Be Authorised

51 years since the Carnation Revolution, its inspirational memory has become a battleground.


25/04/2025

“Your Excellency, General Director, I hereby inform you that yesterday, 25 April 1974, several workers skipped work, evoking a revolution in the country. I would like to clarify that this revolution was not authorised superiorly […]. Since in the current legislation, absences due to revolution are not foreseen, I submit the matter to your consideration, certain it will receive the deserved attention.” – Ambrósio Silva, a public servant, head of the 3rd Section, complaining to his superior about the Carnation Revolution

On that April day, Europe’s longest dictatorship came to an end. During its more than forty years of existence, the regime’s single party, Acção Nacional Popular (National Popular Action, ANP), kept all political activity down to a minimum or condemned to clandestinity, with no freedom of expression or association. 

The regime’s favourite tool, the so-called “blue pencil”, came to symbolise the censorship that covered books, press, music, and theatre. Beyond political expression, the material conditions weren’t any better. In 1970, half of the Portuguese population didn’t have running water, around a third had no electricity, and one in every four people couldn’t read or write; 64% of whom were women. 

Those who dared to voice any sort of opposition to the Estado Novo (New State) would either have to seek shelter in exile or face persecution by PIDE/DGS — the state police, which is said to be modelled on the Gestapo (with some officers doing “training” visits to German camps), and relied on a deep network of informers. PIDE routinely carried out mental and physical torture on its prisoners including interrogation, sleep deprivation, beatings, or forcing them to stand up for hours on end. These took place both in the country in prisons such as Caxias, Peniche, or Aljube, as well as abroad in places such as Tarrafal, a concentration camp for disobedient military officers, communists or other enemies of Salazar’s regime. 

The song is a weapon — and the flowers, too

The “unauthorised revolution” was a coup led by the Movimento das Forças Armadas (MFA – Armed Forces Movement) to overthrow the dictatorial regime, whose lead figure following Salazar’s death in 1970 was Marcello Caetano. 

On 25 April 1974, MFA proclaimed in a national radio broadcaster that the “hour of liberation” had come. Earlier the same day, they had already used the radio to kick off operations, playing two songs by Paulo de Carvalho (E Depois do Adeus) and Zeca Afonso (Grândola, Vila Morena) as code signals for the military to take control of various strategic points throughout the country. In Lisbon, led by Salgueiro Maia, the most threatening action was happening: Caetano was hiding in Quartel do Carmo, from where he was eventually forced to surrender and head into exile. 

Despite the requests to stay home, people took to the streets — some scared, but the majority in support of the coup, in what would become immortalised in pictures tinted with red and carnations. The revolution, which is also called the Carnation Revolution, has a name born out of serendipity. It was a regular Thursday morning for Celeste Caeiro, on her way to work, at a restaurant that happened to be celebrating its first anniversary. Upon arrival, she was sent home and told, “a revolution is underway”. On her way out, she took some flowers with her — red carnations — meant for the restaurant’s commemoration. On her way home, passing by a group of soldiers, one asked for a cigarette. Instead, she offered him a flower, which he placed in the barrel of his gun. Others followed him, and soon the florists in the area were handing out carnations to every man in a uniform, universalising the revolution’s symbol. 

In the aftermath of 25 April 1974, the National Junta of Salvation (a subgroup of the MFA) was formed and promised free, democratic elections. In the weeks and months to come, they abolished the PIDE and censorship, and started the transition towards democracy. The period’s goals would become eternised in the “3 Ds” slogan: decolonisation, democratisation, and development. 

During 1975, the National Junta of Salvation was replaced by the Council of the Revolution, and the PREC (Ongoing Revolutionary Process) was in place. The period was known as “hot summer” due to the political and social turmoil. Banking and other sectors were nationalised, workers organised to take over companies and businesses, lands and farms were occupied. The country was divided between supporters of a revolutionary path and a more moderate one, and several political and intellectual figures visited the country in a sort of “revolutionary tourism”. In April 1975, exactly one year after the revolution, the first free elections were held to elect a Constituent Assembly, with 91% of the population participating. This was the first time women were allowed to vote. The dreams of the 1975 hot summer were crushed by the 25 of November, as liberals led a counter-coup which ended the PREC and the revolutionary period.

25 April started in Africa 

Despite the presence of the April Captains (as the MFA leaders became known) as the main pillar in the revolution’s memory, the origins of the rebellion spirit have their roots in the armed struggle that was going on in the colonies. Independence from the Salazarist regime was not given or conceded — the people in Angola, Mozambique and Guinea-Bissau were taking back power. 

By the time the revolution came, Portugal had been involved in a colonial war for 13 years, with estimates pointing to 45,000 people dead and 53,000 injured. Despite the huge military costs (44% of the total state budget between 1971 and 1973), the country was having a hard time suppressing the liberation struggles. 

Some of the April Captains had fought in Guinea-Bissau, where the PAIGC had already declared independence in September 1973, and in Mozambique where the army was losing to the guerrillas from FRELIMO. The Portuguese men who were being sent to what were effectively death sentences had begun to realise that the war was lost, and that they were on the side of the oppressor. 

Fuel was added by the February 1974 publication of the book “Portugal and the Future” by General Spínola, where he argued that negotiated autonomy for the colonies was necessary as the colonial wars could not be settled by force. Inspired by this argument, around 300 officers organised the Armed Forces Movement which planned the April coup.

Memory is a fragile thing 

Every year since 1974, people have filled the streets across the country on April 25, holding red carnations, shouting slogans and singing popular, revolutionary songs. The Carnation Revolution, as the main pillar of Portuguese democracy, has been an undeniable truth. That was, until the far-right narrative made its way into the popular discourse, 50 members of parliament were elected for the party Chega in 2024. The far-right party is not only racist, sexist and xenophobic, but it also draws inspiration from Salazar’s regime. They even used the slogan “god, homeland, family” (one of Estado Novo’s catchphrases) in earlier campaigns, and try to draw similarities between the far-right and what they call the “far-left”. 

Beyond their electoral results, Chega’s danger especially lies in the infiltration of its narrative in society. Recent studies have shown that hate speech against immigrants is stronger and that hate-based attacks are more frequent than before. One of the ways in which this is visible is in the dispute over 25 April’s memory; for around 50 years, it was held as a marker of democracy and the founding moment of the history of the country. More recently, some equivalence is wrongfully being sought between 25 April and the counter-coup on the 25 November. Starting in 2019, the liberal and conservative parties have attempted to mark it as an official commemorative date, using slogans such as “25 November always, communism never again”, in a appropriation of the popular “25 April always, fascism never again”. 
Portugal is faced with severe social problems such as a rocketing housing crisis, low wages and the destruction of the national health service, to name a few. These haunt the 1974 promise for a just, complete democracy. This is also why people will take to the streets today, and next year, and the following one, holding red carnations up high and singing “The Song Is A Weapon”. But April is not just a faraway memory for those who were there; it is a lighthouse for all the months to come, for all those who are loyal to its meaning.

Exposing Zalando

Initiative by pro-Palestine employees in the company


23/04/2025

On October 9th, 2023, Zalando’s Management board publicly took a staunch pro-Israel stance to the objection of many of the company’s employees. Those employees were not only repressed, but some of them were actively persecuted. Despite the genocide in Gaza getting worse, pro-Palestine voices in the company, specifically those of Muslim background, were threatened, smeared, and in some cases outright fired, creating an atmosphere of intimidation inside the firm.

After traditional guardrails (HR, compliance, Works Council etc.) failed to protect these employees’ labor and civil rights, a group of employees has worked on exposing Zalando’s anti-Palestine censorship and retaliation campaign.

“Zalando cannot continue to deceive (and make money out of) its customers, shareholders, and employees with this DEI gimmick”, says Mohamad S., an ex-employee who was fired for pro-Palestine speech and is now heavily involved in this effort. “Either they actually commit to these values or the stakeholders have the right to know of the grotesque discrimination taking place on the inside”, Mohamad continues.

After Zalando ignored requests to de-escalate the dispute, Mohamad and his colleagues started an online campaign (See @exposingzalando page on Instagram) to publicize the results of an investigation they conducted by gathering current and former employee testimonies, leaked communications, legal documents, and employee questionnaire results.

“We don’t comment on individual cases” is the line that Zalando’s management has been using internally when asked about this issue, most recently by the CPO (Chief People Officer, the main person responsible for Human Resources) in a panel discussion called (unironically as far as we can tell): “How can businesses drive an inclusive democracy?”

Zalando’s management, in the backstages, are expressing expectations for this news to just “fade away.” They seem to focus their discussions on how to deny the facts and smear some of the people involved in the campaign, rather than addressing the actual issue.

Mohamad further comments: “While we recognize the ubiquity of these incidents in Germany, we urge everyone not to let Zalando normalise them. Despite what the pro-Israel elites, such as Zalando’s management board, would like you to think, our observation is that the German legal system has proved reliable in defending the rights of pro-Palestine advocates. The repulsive tactics that Zalando uses to intimidate its employees only work if they remain clandestine. We will make sure they are uncovered.”

Performative Imagining of Something New

On Symbols and Gestures in Contemporary Serbia


The Serbian flag is ours again! Students have cleansed it from the awkward performative tears at the UN General Assembly, and similar political follies. We are obviously collectively unlearning from the war and healing from nationalism. It stands in solidarity with the flags of various Serbian universities and faculties. Absent, however, are the flags of the European Union (as well as those of Russia, or China), which comes as no surprise, considering the hypocritical stance on supporting a lithium-rich stabilocracy. At the same time, Georgia fights a similar battle, albeit with a different dynamic concerning EU and Russia. It seems we have grown exhausted from waiting to join and disillusioned with the EU altogether, so we have decided to achieve the rule of law on our own, refusing to be yet another Krastev’s (2019) copycat. The West has taken far too long to direct meaningful attention toward this movement and publish relevant, multipolar, truth-based reports. Ironically, the pioneering gesture of support from the West came from Madonna.

Today, the primary Serbian identity is that of a protester, be it a student, or a supporter of students. Perhaps for that reason rainbow flags are not there, but members of the LGBTQIA+ community are. These flags are not prohibited. Their absence likely reflects an intelligent sensitivity to the delicate broader context and understanding that the students’ democratic demands implicitly include the protection of everyone’s rights. This is still a much better option than the display of joint rainbow and Israeli flags expressing gratitude to the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) during the March 8th protest in Berlin. Meanwhile, flags representing Kosovo and Metohija as part of Serbia are seen, which I can understand, as the question of territorial integrity is still a core identity value for a large part of the population. It stands for a reminder of the repeated re-election of destructive politicians and of the multidimensional trauma related to the NATO bombing from 1999  that is collectively not yet dealt with. 

The Montenegrin flag was also present, which finally feels natural due to the longstanding ties between the two countries that have been politically exploited by each other in the meantime. Additionally, it was encouraging and heartwarming to see Roma people taking part under their flag.

Religious iconography remains prominent, especially on the Day of the Republic of Serbia (15th of February). It could have been perceived as problematic, given its past instrumentalization such as the church-backed protests in Belgrade against the Pride Parade, absurdified by a portrait of Putin, as well as the political position and moral ambiguity of the Patriarch. However, the existing atmosphere seems more aligned with the fundamental values of Orthodoxy. since the students from the Sandžak region, which has a majority Muslim Bosniak population, spoke of never having felt like citizens of Serbia before. Yet, on this occasion of emotional encounter they did, in togetherness and mutual respect for all flags and faiths. Ethnic insignia and traditional customs, once divisive, became symbols of peace in Novi Pazar, embodied in the act of joint carrying of a placard saying “Some uphold tradition, while others uphold corruption”. They wore both Serbian and Sandžak traditional attire on a safe non-distance. Students succeeded in shifting Serbia’s dominant religion from exclusion and hatred, inscribing it within the ethos of “Love thy neighbor”. Paradoxically, reclaiming religious symbols seems to be a necessary step toward achieving a truly secular state.

The Serbian anthem is regularly performed as a communal song in our collective struggle for a country we wish to remain in or return to. After all, such a place is not so undesirable when measured by human-oriented values (not to be confused with anthropocentrism). I once overheard a girl from Germany dismiss Serbian students as mere nationalists for carrying “nationalistic” emblems and performing “nationalistic” musical content. Like many others, she failed to step outside a narrow, and rather ahistorical framework of political “correctness” which often imposes an one-size-fits-all moral judgment.

In the meantime, the Serbian president continues to claim that “foreign services” are behind the students’ blockades, framing it as a co-funded attempt to stage a “colour revolution.” In response, the students reclaimed the narrative, renaming it the “children’s revolution”, and performing a children’s song about a bumblebee who decides to bring order to his meadow, infantilizing themselves in power, honesty, and subversive wit.

Students incorporate traditional music, such as ‘tamburitza’ songs typical of Vojvodina, often adapting the lyrics to reflect the current moment. They also perform national folk dances, something many had distanced themselves from, perceiving them as retrograde. An interesting twist occurred when a cultural and artistic society performed one of these dances while chanting the most popular protest slogan—pumpaj! (explained in more detail below). Connections are forged across all musical genres, in collaboration with the songs’ authors, all allied around a shared goal to change the system. Students have prompted us to reconsider our identity and all that binds us culturally and historically.

In a similar line, choirs, especially children’s ones, play a significant role in most of the protests. This recalls not only the traditions of ancient theatre and Brecht, but also contemporary Germany, where the choir remains one of the core elements of theatrical practice. It invites both audiences and participants to engage with ideas of community, individuality, and collective expression, while advancing the plot and providing background and summary information to aid in grasping (governmental and presidential) performances. One powerful example was a ten-minute collaborative choral performance of Oskar Davičo’s poem Serbia, created by students from the Faculty of Electrical Engineering in Belgrade and the Art Collective Beton Kunst, who explored the right to freedom of speech and the phenomenon of (self-)censorship. Nevertheless, it was absurdly interpreted by pro-regime tabloids as a “satanic cult.” 

A key visual motif are red-painted (bloody) hands/gloves, which are the first widely recognized symbol of the protests, intended to signify political corruption and responsibility for social harm. This even resonates, particularly in its violent gestures, with Macbeth and his Lady, who wore long red gloves in a recent staging of the play at the Berliner Ensemble. Nonsensically enough, yet calculated in accordance with international concerns, the government wanted to discredit this symbol, interpreting it as terroristic, appropriated from Hamas (!??), and therefore antisemitic. The protestors’ response was: We are not Hamas, but angry mamas!

Touching upon this topic, Palestinian flags are on the streets of Serbia, especially in Novi Pazar and Belgrade. Their visibility reflects, among other things, a shared resistance to neo-imperial and neo-colonial dynamics, specifically when these are driven by the interests of a privileged few in positions of global power. What unites these movements is a collective demand for freedom and sovereignty, rather than top-down interventions disguised as development. In Belgrade, this sentiment is crystallised in public outrage over the intention to transform the NATO-bombed Yugoslav Ministry of Defence building into a Trump’s hotel. That is yet another of the president’s dirty arrangements against the Law on Cultural Heritage, and an open disrespect of its recent inclusion on the list of Europe’s seven most endangered heritage sites for 2025. This approach to cultural policy supports a dissonant memory that ignores social wounds and the urban fabric of the city. Likewise, Palestinians do not need luxury resorts for the rich built atop sacred ancestral land. There are, luckily, still people with the values above the monetary one who do rise.

The current landscape of global affairs, marked by a tightly interwoven network of oppressors, only strengthens our disruptive resolve. We can do this better, healthier, as organically joyous fighters for shared democratic values evolving this historical momentum into a transnational movement. As it was sung in Belgrade, “You can call me a dreamer, but I am not the only one”, there are Greeks, Georgians, Turks, North Macedonians, Slovaks, Hungarians, even Americans, who not only exchange messages of solidarity, gathering in front of the embassies, but also become co-authors of the dramaturgies of protests. This is intelligently embodied in Pikachu, who hilariously transitions between the streets of Istanbul and Belgrade, occasionally transforming into Dinsta-chu (Srb. dinstaću, meaning I will stew), which is a version of the newest performative word dinstanje (stewing), introduced by a university professor and political activist, to describe what is to be done with a chewy 13-year old “beef” in order to finally change the regime and the system. The other one is pohovanje (battering) due to the manifestation of civil disobedience in throwing eggs on corrupted politicians, their properties, and relevant institutions all over Serbia. It is certainly our specificity to even politically move around food-related verbs. The book students used to organise their plenums and blockades is titled Blockade Cookbook, which echoes the elevated significance of cooking in the Balkans. An important gestus to mention here is pumpanje (pumping). Students and citizens are determined that there must be no deescalation of tensions – change demands much more pressure. As a result, the bicycle pump became a political object, an object of performative resistance in Serbia, and Pumpa-chu (Srb. I will pump) also emerged.

Students employ humor, irony, and cross-genre creativity to generate new energy. They respond to violence with non-violence, to stupidity and lies with their opposites, radically transforming the ethical architecture of Serbia. They move their thoughts and bodies across borders. They do not put issues under the carpet. Having grown up without relying on the state, they neither expect nor easily accept its offerings. This makes them difficult to corrupt. They are patient in their struggle for democracy, of which so little remains globally. They do not fight against the president, as even some foreign media have inaccurately implied, but for the rule of law. They must be the children Maya Angelou spoke of: “To be that thing in your heart, you have to have courage (…) The truth is no one of us can be free until everybody’s free, and every one of us needs to say to our children: Children, this is your world! Come out, stand out, earn it!” And they did! 

Written in February as part of an analysis of the performativity of the students-led protests in Serbia.

The Students Blockade were initiated on 25th of November at The Faculty of Dramatic Arts in Belgrade, after a violent reaction from “random” passersby in an “extreme rush” towards students and citizens who were silently protesting for 15 minutes to honour 15 people (today 16) killed by the state-based corruption in Novi Sad, just in front of their Faculty in the Boulevard of Arts. It triggered a social turn propelled by students’ determination to stop the brain drain and stay in Serbia, with one catch: to change the country instead of changing the country. A way to that destination is envisioned through the fulfilment of their Since April 6th their non-negotiable demands are:

  1. Complete documentation and accountability for the collapse of the canopy
  2. Dismissal of unfounded charges against arrested and detained students and other co-protesters.
  3. Identification and prosecution of those who attacked students and citizens
  4. Increased budget allocations for universities
  5. A thorough investigation to determine all the circumstances and responsibilities related to the incident that caused fear and panic on March 15.
  6. Accountability and protection of medical patients

In other words, the public institutions need to be depoliticised to fulfil their roles according to the Constitution of Serbia. This would immediately proclaim the president as “not authorised” for most of the roles in state and foreign affairs he has been nonchalantly taken over for shamelessly long. The students are organised in plenums operating as a plurality, without a leader. All decisions are made through direct democratic practices of voting on their daily meetings facilitated by rotating moderators.

Meanwhile, the university blockade spread across Serbia. As  Žižek has noted, they evolved into the greatest students movement in Europe since 1968. Today it is more accurately framed as a students-led citizens’ protest.