Symbol, the Street, and the Baton

On June 28, another protest against the current government took place in Serbia—a mass demonstration involving students, professors, farmers, and opposition representatives, gathered in the center of Belgrade. The protest itself was not a surprise: warnings about growing tension had been circulating long before this date. Several days prior, the author published a piece in which Vidovdan—St. Vitus Day—was described as a “rallying point” for civil discontent.

“June 28 is not just a date. It’s a potential rallying point where symbolism, discontent, and generational strength align in a single line.” — wrote your humble servant on Covalent Bond.

Still, the June protest can hardly be considered a turning point. It was neither the first nor, most likely, the last wave of protests in the political calendar of 2025. A much larger demonstration had already taken place on March 15, when street mobilization reached its highest point in many years. But June 28 stands out for different reasons: its participants, thematic focus, and symbolic context.

Saturday: march, silence, and evening tension

The protest began Saturday afternoon at Slavija Square, where a column of students, professors, opposition representatives, and farming unions headed toward central Belgrade. The main demand was early parliamentary elections—a slogan already voiced for several months. But on June 28, it rang louder than ever: the symbolism of Vidovdan amplified the emotional and historical tone. Participants carried Serbian flags, posters with portraits of those killed in the recent collapse in Novi Sad, and signs against authoritarian rule and in support of university autonomy.

According to police, around 36,000 people took to the streets, while independent observers estimate the number at 140,000. This was reported by AP, which noted that the march remained peaceful until late in the evening. A particularly poignant moment came with sixteen minutes of silence in memory of the victims in Novi Sad. This tragic episode became a key part of the protest agenda: students directly link it to corruption in infrastructure and demand an investigation.

“Thousands of people gathered in Belgrade on Saturday, demanding early elections and accusing the government of corruption and authoritarianism” — Reuters.

Around 9:00 p.m., the protest was officially concluded by the organizers. However, as often happens, its end marked the beginning of a new stage—less organized and more confrontational. Some protesters headed to Pionirski Park, where a tent camp of government supporters was located. Clashes broke out there: bottles, stones, and flares were thrown at police. In response, security forces used tear gas and physical force. Dozens were detained; at least six police officers and several civilians were injured, including media representatives—a correspondent from the Fonet agency and an assistant from N1 TV were harmed while attempting to pass through a police cordon (ANEM).

Sunday: barricades, arrests, and new protest geography

The next morning, Belgrade woke not only to the aftermath of the clashes but also to new barricades. Protesters blocked key transport arteries in the capital, including the bridge over the Sava and major intersections. This was less an act of destruction than a direct demand: to release those detained the previous day—students and civic activists. Makeshift structures made of trash bins, ladders, and street barriers appeared rapidly—and just as rapidly, the police response began.

According to Euronews, thousands participated in the actions. By Sunday evening, at least 38 people remained in custody, with the total number of arrests over the weekend reaching 77 (WRAL). Protests spread to other cities, including Novi Sad, where activists pelted the ruling party’s office with eggs.

Charges brought against those detained ranged from participation in unauthorized gatherings to “threats to national security” and “attacks on law enforcement officers” (AP). Support for the ongoing protest surged on social media, and university circles began circulating information about new actions being prepared in the coming days.

Although Saturday’s protest was organized and concluded within the permitted time, Sunday became a day of improvisation, in which the initiative shifted from the organizers to those who refused to go home. The government responded harshly—but not harshly enough to completely suppress the movement. On the contrary, the geographic expansion of protests indicated that this was no longer just about Belgrade, nor just about students.

The government’s response: rhetoric of threats and unification of security forces

On the evening of June 29, President Aleksandar Vučić gave a statement accusing the protesters of attempting a coup. According to him, “disruption of order” and “street violence” were the result of “foreign interference and incitement from abroad.” No concrete evidence was presented, but the rhetoric shifted into a familiar mode for Serbian authorities: threats instead of dialogue, conspiracy claims instead of political analysis.

Interior Minister Ivica Dačić confirmed that the police would continue making arrests and would act “by all legal means” to protect order and security. His words emphasized determination rather than de-escalation. Interior troops were put on high alert, and security around government buildings and television stations in central Belgrade was intensified.

Political scientist Helena Ivanov tried to analyze the situation in a comment for the Financial Times:

“The government’s harsh rhetoric and police actions may either suppress the protest movement or fuel it further ahead of the 2027 elections.”

This scenario essentially outlines two possible trajectories: either suppression or escalation. The choice now depends not so much on the opposition, but on the government’s behavior. As of the time of writing, no negotiations are underway, and demands for early elections have been officially rejected—voting remains scheduled for 2027.

Protest composition, motives, and possible scenarios

Although the June 28–29 protest was smaller in numbers than the March mobilization, it reflected a significant shift in the motives behind the discontent. This time, the movement was led by students, not party structures or opposition coalitions. They brought a new agenda: not only demands for elections, but also defense of university autonomy, condemnation of infrastructure corruption, and moral reflection on the tragedy in Novi Sad, where 16 people died in a building collapse. Protesters commemorated this tragedy during the 16-minute silence at Slavija Square, seeing it as the result of systemic negligence and impunity.

This time, the academic community was more actively represented. That distinguishes the protest from many previous outbursts—the protest field turned out to be broader than one party, group, or ideological stance.

Nevertheless, the government continues to construct a narrative around “a group of provocateurs” and “terrorist intentions.” Some detainees have already been charged with “attempting to undermine the constitutional order”—a phrase long used in Serbian practice as a catch-all for dissent.

The symbolism of Vidovdan adds another layer to the protest. It is a day of remembrance for the 1389 Battle of Kosovo—a key episode in Serbian national mythology, traditionally associated with nationalist discourse. But in 2025, it gained a different meaning: the emphasis shifted toward anti-corruption and anti-authoritarian expression. At the rally in Belgrade, according to IntelliNews, one student declared from the podium:

“Today, June 28, 2025, we declare the current government illegitimate.”

Thus, the historical date was reinterpreted—not as a day of symbolic pride, but of civic responsibility.

While dialogue with the authorities remains impossible, two directions remain: either the protest will continue to grow through daily pressure, as it did in 2020—when people took to the streets not so much against lockdowns, but against authoritarian governance, election manipulation, and suppression of independent media—or it will fizzle out under the wave of arrests and fear. Everything depends on the strength of horizontal ties among participants and their ability to self-organize without a clearly defined leader.

The protest’s weekday rhythm and the year’s pace

The June 28–29 protest did not become a turning point—but it didn’t need to be. It was neither the first flash of street discontent in 2025, nor the largest. But its date, composition, and development make it noteworthy. It is not an exception to the general trend but its confirmation: Serbian civil society is living in the rhythm of a protest calendar, and that rhythm has not faded.

Vidovdan 2025 entered this calendar not as the start of a new chapter, but as the continuation of an old one—the one that began in the deep autumn of last year. It became another line in the long conversation between government and the streets, between generations, between the symbols of the past and the demands of the present.

Whether that conversation becomes a dialogue—or a monologue with a baton—no longer depends on the square, but on how the authorities choose to act. And the street, it seems, is not yet tired of speaking.