A stream of brilliant ambient albums has been released lately — yet, in Serbia, the past few months have been unbearably loud.
Events unfolded with such intensity that, willingly or not, we became completely absorbed in them — normal life was suspended, and everything else pushed aside.
What has been happening, and still continues, is the largest and longest student uprising in Europe.
It is a sad reflection of our society that, a quarter of a century after the beginning of so-called democratic processes, we find ourselves in such a dire state — ruled by a government that has, for thirteen consecutive years, broken every record in the degradation of society and the state.
The most unqualified officials in our modern history have dismantled institutions, sold off national resources for next to nothing, ruthlessly indebted the country, and betrayed its essential interests — all under the slogan: “Long live Serbia.”
And yet, amid such bleak circumstances, something deeply moving happened — a response from the young.
No one expected anything of them; they were seen as pragmatic generations who understood the world and quietly left for places where their knowledge was valued.
But this time, they said no.
They demanded justice and accountability for the collapse of the railway station canopy in Novi Sad — a tragedy that claimed sixteen lives.
These young people sent a clear message: they wanted to stay, to work, to create here.
Each day, in their hundreds of thousands, they honored the victims with sixteen minutes of silence, then walked peacefully through cities, carrying banners, vuvuzelas, and whistles.
That’s how it began.
Day by day, week by week — the avalanche began to move.
Days of walking followed, gatherings across the country, and the largest protest in Serbia’s history — on March 15, when nearly a million people filled the streets of Belgrade.
That evening, precisely during the sixteen-minute silence — on the eleventh minute — shots were fired into the backs of the peaceful crowd, from a covert sonic weapon, likely intended to spark panic and stampede.
To this day, the authorities deny its use, despite 500,000 collected signatures and submitted evidence — videos, medical reports, and witness statements — delivered to the United Nations.
When the demands were ignored, students in May called for elections and composed their own list — transitional, non-partisan — which they withheld from publication until elections were officially announced.
On June 28, as gatherings across the country continued, they organized another great assembly in Belgrade and gave citizens the green light to increase pressure.
That evening, citizens began acts of civil disobedience — peaceful, non-violent — which lasted throughout the summer.
The government was forced to defend itself with nothing but raw force and shameless lies.
The police — our fellow citizens — showed their most disgraceful face.
Exceeding their authority, they brutally beat and detained people, assigning custody without any legal basis.
They stormed universities, violating their autonomy; professors and school principals were dismissed for supporting the students.
Estimates say that during this period, over 25,000 protests took place across the country; around 3,000 people lost their jobs, and for the collapsed canopy and the dead — there are still no accountable names.
Why has it all lasted so long?
Because such a regime — driven by personal interest — is supported by powers from both East and West, making this struggle long and complex.
Because, aside from a four-month strike by secondary school teachers, and a shorter one by university professors and lawyers, other professions refused to stand with the students — expecting others to resolve the situation.
This led even the rebellious professions, exhausted by illegally withheld incomes, to give in.
Thus, during the summer, students were forced back to their universities — “to save the academic year.”
The opposition, though nominally supportive, did nothing in substance: they did not demand elections when students did, nor did they leave parliament despite clear calls from the people.
Instead, they sit there quietly, maintaining the illusion of legitimacy.
It was those with the least experience who showed the greatest maturity — the students.
While the older generations waited for the young to fix everything, the young realized that a country cannot be saved by waiting.
A similar process unfolded in the neighborhood — in Montenegro, before the regime fell, there were year-and-a-half-long public gatherings in the form of religious processions.
And so, after the two calmest months — September and October, while students took their exams — the flame of resistance still glows.
Now, new marches have begun, spreading from all parts of Serbia toward Novi Sad, where on November 1 — the anniversary of the tragedy — the entire country will gather, pay tribute to the victims, and continue the struggle.
We keep pumping.
Personally
The second reason Drontology has been silent is of a personal nature.
The decision not to publish was not deliberate; the entire country was, in a way, under a state of emergency.
Universities were blocked, schools on strike, festivals canceled.
Even EXIT Festival will not be held next year, having lost state support after expressing solidarity with the students.
Perhaps, in its silence, Drontology was quietly signaling that something momentous was taking place in Serbia.
Besides that, I faced health problems: my arm was in a cast (thankfully, not from police brutality but a fall from a bicycle), then came an infection triggered by an allergy, followed by a serious drop in hemoglobin.
For months, I underwent tests and treatments.
Two issues have been successfully resolved, and my blood count is slowly recovering.
Thank you to everyone who wrote — I will reply to all.
