By Tena Prelec , Sonja Stojanović Gajić*
More than a tragic infrastructure failure, the collapse of the canopy at Novi Sad railway station in November 2024 was a glaring symptom of the kleptocratic governance that has defined Serbia’s political and economic system for over a decade.
The renovation of the station, part of a government-backed infrastructure push financed by China, was carried out under secrecy, fueling suspicions of corruption, cost inflation, and political favoritism. When the structure collapsed, killing 15 people, it became clear to many citizens of Serbia that corruption kills, triggering the biggest protests in the country has seen in decades. The students marching in the streets, and the large swathes of the population who support them, see the Novi Sad disaster as the consequence of a system in which public institutions serve as a facade for the enrichment of the few, diverting public scrutiny from it.
Serbia’s kleptocracy is not just a domestic problem; it is a transnational phenomenon sustained by three interlinked dynamics: the local agency of state capture, geopolitical competition, and international enablers. The local agents, in this case, are the Serbian Progressive Party (SNS). SNS came to power through a string of elections, in itself affected by deep-seated problems. It then re-purposed key policy processes and institutions to serve their private interests. By taking over the control of state resources, the media sector, decision-making, and enforcement capacities, they privatised the state to ensure a privileged position in political competition, as evident in the resolution by the European Parliament after the 2023 elections in Serbia. SNS would not have been able to do this if they had not secured backing from some international partners – western states included – and ensured that others look away or tolerate what is going on.
China was a desired partner due to its readiness to invest quickly in connectivity projects, both physical and digital, as part of a broader Chinese plan to build a corridor from the Port of Piraeus to Central Europe. China provided significant funds ‘with no strings attached,’ except dependency created through loans, something that does not seem to be a concern for this government. These deals, such as the construction of the high-speed railway from Novi Sad to Subotica, bring opportunity for additional enrichment, as money is spent not only on Chinese companies but also on local sub-contractors linked to the ruling party.
Protesting students demand the publication of all project-related documents, accountability for those responsible, and a transparent investigation, but so far, more information was provided about the Chinese part of the work than about the work done by local subcontractors. This is an example of what the GEO-POWER-EU project categorises as corrosive capital – projects that do not merely bring in foreign money but actively exploit governance weaknesses and entrench control by the elites, irrespective of their country of origin.
These investments are not imposed on Serbia; they are created or welcomed by local elites who benefit from the lack of oversight and use them to strengthen their own economic and political dominance. The Belgrade Waterfront project, a flagship initiative of the Serbian government in partnership with Emirati investors, is another prime example of how corrosive capital operates. The project was pushed through tailor-made laws disregarding urban planning, it expropriated land from residents, and created an unaccountable financial arrangement benefiting a small elite.
The problem, however, is not just about Russian or Chinese influence; it is about a broader pattern in which foreign capital, regardless of origin, is funneled into non-transparent, politically manipulated projects that sideline democratic governance and make significant damage to the population and environment. Much of it is tolerated by Western partners, especially since the so-called geopolitical turn in the EU, provided that the local agents behave in line with Franklin Roosevelt’s motto: “He may be a bastard, but he’s our bastard.” Resembling such reasoning, in the first few years of governing, President Vučić faked compliance in a EU-mediated dialogue for the normalization of the relations with Kosovo, although occasionally also stirring incidents that he would then intervene to pacify.
This practice of stabilitocracy was later upgraded with economic deals with Trump’s family and major EU states such as France and Germany, especially after domestic opposition to corrupt deals and uncompetitive elections increased. The Serbian government bought 12 Rafale fighter jets from France, without access to all technical applications and no sufficient funds for their maintenance. To the German auto industry, Vučić promised privileged access to the potentially largest lithium mine in Europe implemented by Rio Tinto, a western multinational. This project might decrease the EU’s dependency on China for critical minerals, but it would also create significant environmental damage in the region, and the Serbian population has opposed it strenuously through large-scale protests.
The EU has remained largely silent to the repression against environmental activists and civil society through smear campaigns, bogus investigations, and surveillance documented by Amnesty International. Due to the disillusionment with the EU, Serbian protestors are not carrying EU flags as their peers in Georgia. Towards its western partners, SNS tried to use a geopolitical argument by labeling both the environmental protests against Rio Tinto’s project and the students’ protests after the tragedy in Novi Sad as sponsored by Russia. But domestically, they were feeding pro-Russian and anti-Western attitudes in the media under their control, justifying corrosive deals due to ‘EU-imposed’ green transition, and blaming the protests as Western-sponsored colored revolutions.
Such entrenched grand corruption, or kleptocracy, thrives through international intermediaries – law firms, financial institutions, and political consultants that secure power and launder wealth across borders. As detailed in Indulging Kleptocracy, this web of illicit finance extends deep into western economies, where secrecy laws and regulatory loopholes offer shelter for kleptocrats. PR firms (think Israeli disinformation) and political consultants (think Tony Blair) have polished Vučić’s democratic veneer while reinforcing his grip on power. Serbian elites channel wealth through financial hubs like Cyprus, Switzerland, and the UAE, exploiting the same Western legal and banking structures that sustain kleptocracy worldwide.
The student-led protests directly challenge Serbia’s entrenched corruption and impunity. They expose a system where elites extract wealth through crony deals, where foreign capital fuels corruption rather than development, and institutions fail to address public grievances.
Protesters may not seek the EU’s help, but Brussels must not aid Vučić’s regime through inaction and empty calls for dialogue. He is no reliable partner – willing to turn Serbia into another Turkey or Belarus to evade accountability while playing EU competitors against each other. His influence extends beyond Serbia, destabilising the region through proxy parties and media control. If Serbia breaks free from state capture, it could set a precedent for the whole region – but that would require the EU to act, not enable.
