Living in a Serbian Community in Kosovo in 2025

Since the emergence of Srpska Lista (the Serbian List), the system in Serbian-majority areas has been set up in such a way that power and control cannot be lost under any circumstances, regardless of whether this harms the people. Traditionally, in local elections, Srpska Lista wins, no matter who the opponents are, what the campaign looks like, what they have or have not done, or how much damage they caused in the previous period. Decisions about who will be candidates for mayor and for municipal assemblies are made at party headquarters, which was moved several years ago to Kopaonik in Serbia (to the residence of Milan Radoičić. When someone agrees, willingly or under pressure to be a mayoral candidate, that person effectively becomes mayor, winning in the first round by a landslide. Some of them also receive an additional position in a parallel municipality operating under the Serbian system.

 

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Teaser Image Caption
A photograph of a Serbian family table in Kosovo.

This year is, at least as far as Kosovo is concerned, an election year. For the Serbian community in Kosovo, this year is also a year of the illusion of choice and the illusion of uncertainty.

Most residents of predominantly Serbian areas will say that things are not good, that it hasn’t been this bad in a long time, and that they are considering leaving Kosovo. Many of them already have, or are investing in, a house or an apartment in Serbia. For some, these properties are a “just in case” option; for others, they are part of a fairly certain plan to leave. There are also those who have managed very well and for whom life may never have been better than it is now. And then there are those who are simply there, they stay because they have nowhere to go, and because they do not want to leave.

In years without elections, and this year elections are stacked one after another (parliamentary in February, local in October, and snap parliamentary elections in December) life in Serbian communities is more bearable. In eastern Kosovo, everyday life differs from other regions. Kosovo Pomoravlje is rarely talked about and little is known about it, probably because it is not economically attractive and because interethnic tensions are relatively rare compared to other parts of Kosovo. At the markets, both Albanian and Serbian can be heard, and there are good producers of vegetables, fruit, cheese, and even handicrafts, but there are fewer and fewer customers. It’s the same in cafés: both languages are heard, the food is often homemade, tasty, and cheap.

Although a ban was introduced last year on the use of any currency other than the euro, trade still takes place with the help of the Serbian dinar. The dinar, however, has become much harder to obtain, since all remaining Serbian institutions and banks have been relocated outside Kosovo. Anyone receiving pensions, salaries, child benefits, or social assistance must travel to the nearest bank, post office, or ATM to collect their money. Serbia has installed kiosks and ATMs near border crossings, but getting there is still a challenge. It is hardest for those who live far from the border with Serbia. Traveling to an ATM often costs them a significant portion of their income, especially if they do not own a car.

Many of these people are elderly and must pay someone to drive them to an ATM. Often, relatives or friends drive them, earning a few extra euros by transporting elderly people to the border and back. This happens every month, because with the little money they receive, many barely cover the costs of utilities, food, medicine, and doctors. Doctors are often not located in their towns either, so transportation to medical care also has to be paid. And so they scrape by, hoping that no major accident, illness, or natural disaster will occur, because that would cost even more.

Then comes a year full of elections. The word izbori in Serbian has two meanings: 1) the electoral process (elections) and 2) choices (choices). For most Serbs in Kosovo, however, there are no choices, not even when it comes to elections.

Since the emergence of Srpska Lista (the Serbian List), the system in Serbian-majority areas has been set up in such a way that power and control cannot be lost under any circumstances, regardless of whether this harms the people. Traditionally, in local elections, Srpska Lista wins, no matter who the opponents are, what the campaign looks like, what they have or have not done, or how much damage they caused in the previous period.

Decisions about who will be candidates for mayor and for municipal assemblies are made at party headquarters, which was moved several years ago to Kopaonik in Serbia (to the residence of Milan Radoičić[1]). When someone agrees, willingly or under pressure to be a mayoral candidate, that person effectively becomes mayor, winning in the first round by a landslide. Some of them also receive an additional position in a parallel municipality operating under the Serbian system.

This year, an exception occurred in one municipality (Vitia /Vitina), where two Serbian candidates entered the second round. Srpska Lista resolved this quickly and efficiently. Some sort of agreement possibly involving blackmail was reached with the opposing candidate, who soon joined Srpska Lista and, in return, received a leading position in the parallel structures. Once again, Srpska Lista won elections in all ten Serbian-majority municipalities, reaffirming its dominance through control, manipulation, and misuse of various resources, and reinforcing the illusion of choice and uncertainty.

Before elections, voters are promised jobs, social assistance, or financial and material support (such as construction materials or agricultural machinery). Campaign promises never include improvements to public spaces, better services, increased security, improved healthcare, or social welfare. There is no need to even mention waste management, illegal landfills, more green areas, long-term solutions for stray dogs, climate adaptation, support for farmers during droughts, development of organic agriculture, or renewable energy sources. All of this has become irrelevant, if it ever mattered at all.

Compliant voters also have opportunities to advance in their compliance. Ordinary voters often share a single salary among several people, organized through specific lists and parallel Serbian structures. Of course, they are not just voters, sometimes they have to go to work, and sometimes on “business trips.” Previously, these trips meant attending rallies in support of the party, its leaders, or officials from Serbia. In recent months, many have had to travel to Belgrade, to the so-called “Ćaciland[2].” Some reportedly even walked from Kosovo to Belgrade or Novi Sad, more than 300 kilometers to demonstrate loyalty and devotion to Aleksandar Vučić. Each additional activity comes with an additional daily allowance, but participation guarantees keeping one’s job, or part of it.

Non-compliant residents have very different experiences. Those who dared to publicly express disagreement with the “policies” of Srpska Lista did not fare well. Joining other Serbian political options or civic initiatives is unforgivable. Anyone known not to support Srpska Lista who receives social assistance or works in Serbian institutions loses all income. Social assistance is cut. Politically active individuals face public smearing, threats, blackmail, and even identity theft through social media and fake statements. The consequences can be even harsher for those who own businesses, restaurants, cafés, internet services, gas stations. Compliant voters are forbidden from shopping there, drinking coffee, dining, or using their services.

In addition, Kosovo Serbs who have already left Kosovo return for local elections to vote and decide who will represent residents. For them, local elections resemble a lottery win: travel expenses are covered, they get to visit their hometown, friends, and relatives, and they receive a daily allowance, often spent on cheap, low-quality goods from “Everything for 1 Euro” stores before returning to their homes somewhere in Serbia.

Soon, there will be yet another parliamentary election, in which the Serbian community will once again mostly elect representatives from Srpska Lista. These representatives will then, as an expression of “Serbian patriotism,” boycott the assembly and not go to work. They will appear once every six months to secure their very well-paid (non-)jobs. For years, they have made no public statements, expressed no opinions on important issues, and have done nothing to represent the interests of the citizens they supposedly serve. Those who vote for them likely do not know that their salaries are ten times higher than their own pensions or social assistance, for doing nothing, and often causing considerable harm.

This entire system, sustained by the “compliant,” has led to a deep moral and value collapse within the Serbian community. Young people who stay see examples that show it is possible to “earn” without working, and that honest work does not pay off. Integrity and critical thinking do not fit into this system. There is hardly a family in which someone is not involved in some way, which often places entire families in uncomfortable and compromised situations. That is why many have left “in search of bread.” Fathers work construction jobs in Serbia, Croatia, or Germany, saving money for a quieter life elsewhere.

“Elsewhere” is often not Serbia, because Serbia does not truly love Kosovo Serbs. In Serbia, they are seen as third-class citizens and are often called “Šiptari” [3]by their compatriots. Kosovo is “loved” in Serbia in a very selective way: churches, monasteries, and history are glorified, while people are devalued and any possibility of coexistence is sabotaged. Organized visits to monasteries and churches bring newly minted Orthodox believers and Greater-Serbia nationalists from Montenegro, Serbia, and Republika Srpska to Kosovo, people who often have little to do with Christianity. Excited by encountering the mythical part of their identity, they frequently unload their nationalist fervor on their hosts through shouting, singing, and threats, leaving behind a bitter reminder of what once was, and what could happen again.

Truly, living in a Serbian community over the past few years has become sad and seemingly hopeless. Young people leave after finishing high school, entire families quietly move away, and Srpska Lista wages war against those it claims to represent, a population that is steadily shrinking. Internal disintegration of the community is reinforced by the increasingly clear vision of the leading parliamentary political force in Kosovo, while Serbia loudly laments the growing emigration of Serbs, a process it itself consciously contributes to.

Although snap parliamentary elections are scheduled for late December, there is a possibility that new elections will take place again next spring. This likely will not be of decisive importance for life in Serbian communities, though it could be. A new government could set new priorities and stick to them, resist the temptation of populism, respect the diaspora while developing the local economy for all citizens who live here, and finally address social and environmental issues that affect everyone equally, especially future generations.

Be that as it may, Serbs and Albanians will continue selling at the markets, buying from one another and from others, and most likely, all of us together will become fewer and fewer.

 


[1] “Milan Radojičić – former vice president of the Serbian List, who took responsibility for the terrorist attack in northern Kosovo, known as ‘Banjska.’ Radojičić is the informal leader of the Serbian List, the owner of construction companies in Serbia and Republika Srpska, and a close associate of Aleksandar Vučić.”

[2] “Ćacilend – an illegal camp set up in front of the Serbian Parliament as a response to student protests and blockades. It is inhabited by individuals with dubious backgrounds, including members of criminal structures, as well as people who are paid to stay there during the day.”

[3] “Šiptari – a pejorative term for Kosovo Albanians, widely used in nationalist discourse among Serbs.”