All images courtesy of Lily Lynch.
October 25, 2026
6:30 A.M.
On election day, all regular time stopped. From early within the morning, pals despatched me footage of traces snaking round buildings, by way of parks, down metropolis blocks. A buddy again in California despatched me images of a celebration at a café close to the Serbian consulate in Los Angeles, with music, dancing, barbecue. A couple of weeks earlier, the Serbian Republic Electoral Fee had introduced that the nation’s massive diaspora could be allowed to vote solely throughout Serbia’s home polling hours. This meant that Serbian voters in different international locations and time zones must journey to their embassy or consulate at odd hours or in the course of the evening to solid their ballots. The last-minute rule change was extensively interpreted as an try by the ruling Serbian Progressive Social gathering (SNS) to undercut its rebel rival, Scholar Checklist (SL). The Serbian diaspora was recognized to favor the opposition.
One buddy needed to make a wager: “The turnout goes to be record-breaking,” he wrote. “And SL will win by a landslide.” I used to be cautiously optimistic, however not a real believer. Although not Serbian myself, I’d been reporting on the nation for greater than a decade; I’ve coated numerous Serbian elections over the previous fourteen years and was in Serbia for the SNS’s ascent to energy in 2012. The celebration’s chief, Aleksandar Vučić, additionally the nation’s erstwhile president and premier, had at all times managed to outsmart us. With out fail, he had both received outright or massaged the vote to his liking when he hadn’t: somewhat ballot-stuffing right here, somewhat Gogolian resurrection of lifeless voters there, together with some voter intimidation and paying the poor and marginalized for his or her votes. Why ought to this time be any totally different?
If something, this time could be worse, maybe far worse. Vučić lastly had an actual competitor in SL, a brand new outfit that had emerged out of two years of pupil protests, and which, in line with not less than some polls, loved extra standard help than SNS. Not one of the names on SL’s slate have been these of scholars, however nor have been they skilled politicians. All of them—professors, docs, actors, engineers, athletes—had been chosen by way of plenum. The group subsequently represented a wholly novel method to nationwide politics. If it managed to tug off a win, an age-old established order would come to an finish.
I had barely slept. Within the run-up to election day, pro-Vučić media shops mentioned that violence and even civil struggle would escape. Many have been anticipating not less than some bloodshed. A anxious buddy purchased me a neon-yellow high-vis reflector vest that he hoped would establish me as press, although I used to be later reminded that this might simply as simply make me a goal. There have been different foreboding indicators going into the day: a Crimson Star Belgrade soccer match was scheduled for 4 that afternoon, which means that the cantankerous and marauding sports activities followers and for-hire brutes generally known as Delije, with whom Vučić had shut ties, could be out on the streets. An eleventh-hour change to authorized procedures on the Belgrade Greater Court docket appeared to portend mass arrests.
I dressed, attempting to recall the final time I’d had something to eat. It had been the earlier afternoon. I nonetheless had no urge for food.
8 A.M.
I made a decision to stroll thirty minutes to fulfill my buddy Sonja at her polling station in Dorćol, town’s oldest neighborhood. In Belgrade, the day gone by had been immaculate: autumnal, sunny, and crisp. Now it was grey.
There have been extra individuals out on the streets than regular, however not by a lot. Once I walked previous the closest polling station and noticed just some individuals out entrance, my religion wavered. Maybe all of the jubilant reviews I’d acquired from pals of lengthy traces have been nothing greater than their wishful pondering, individuals solely seeing what they needed to see. Most probably, this time could be identical to all the remainder. It was silly to have gotten my hopes up.
I made my means right down to Slavija, a big site visitors roundabout surrounding a public fountain. A jumbo marketing campaign advert of Vučić stared down at me from the facade of a tall constructing. The ubiquity of his face—on buildings, on the quilt of each lurid tabloid, on state tv—appeared virtually cartoonishly authoritarian.
As I approached Novi Dvor, the president’s workplace, I noticed that the police had erected barricades, stopping passage by foot or automobile. A smattering of officers was milling round. Mustering my most assured Serbian, I requested one if I may go by way of. “I reside a number of blocks up,” I informed him, “off of Terazije.” Wordlessly, with an air of exhaustion, he made make a gap within the limitations and waved me alongside. I allowed myself to wonder if state energy would fold with so little resistance later that evening.
9 A.M.
Sonja met me in entrance of her polling station, the commerce faculty on Hilandarska Road. Inside, there was a flurry of exercise however, dishearteningly, no voting queue.
After Sonja solid her vote, we walked to Palilula Market, the place we had heard there was going to be a casual election celebration. Regardless of the hour, some round us have been consuming photographs of rakija, a well-liked sort of brandy. My telephone lit up with notifications detailing a document early-voter turnout. By 9, the numbers have been twice these of the earlier election, in 2023. We thought of whether or not the exhibiting may in some way be defined by the top of daylight financial savings at three that very same morning.
11 A.M.
I took one of many metropolis’s antiquated purple trams down Bulevar kralja Aleksandra to Zvezdara, a neighborhood simply south of downtown Belgrade, the place I met a cell election-monitoring workforce for SL. To protect towards electoral subterfuge, SL had dispatched them to the final neighborhood of particular polling websites. They have been skilled to establish anticipated types of interference, from garden-variety intimidation to the so-called Bulgarian Prepare, a way of rigging votes. By the point I arrived, that they had simply subtle a tense state of affairs with an area SNS-backed thug.
Unaccountably, the cell workforce’s spirits appeared excessive, as if the incident had hardly bothered them. I acquired a textual content saying that by midday, turnout was 34.4%.
1:30 P.M.
The cell workforce dropped me off on Bulevar kralja Aleksandra, and I made a decision to stroll its size again towards downtown. In some unspecified time in the future, my urge for food returned, so I ended off at an Italian restaurant that I had patronized numerous occasions in my greater than fifteen years of coming to Serbia. Uncertain what to do after lunch, I returned to my residence. The lengthy look forward to the preliminary outcomes was insufferable, so I assumed I’d attempt to sleep by way of a part of it.
3 P.M.
I couldn’t sleep. My temper had turned, the cautious optimism of the morning fading to let dread creep again in. The excessive turnout of the morning had leveled off, one buddy wrote. It was nonetheless a lot increased than in elections previous, however would it not be sufficient? For SL to win, it might want better voter participation than this. A buddy texted to reassure me: “Issues have been simply slowing down for lunch, which is as anticipated. Simply wait.”
4 P.M.
I walked to the headquarters of the Heart for Analysis, Transparency, and Accountability (CRTA), an election watchdog, to attend a press convention. Raša Nedeljkov, the middle’s director, informed us that the morning turnout was certainly historic. However by afternoon, he confirmed, issues had petered out considerably. He learn off a litany of irregularities: there have been widespread issues with the ultraviolet lamps and ultraviolet spray used to protect towards repeat voting, and not less than two areas, election observers had been attacked. After the press convention, I paced across the workplace, consuming maybe an excessive amount of instantaneous espresso.
6 P.M.
I left CRTA shortly after darkish. I needed to see what was taking place at Pionirski Park, which sits adjoining to the Republic Electoral Fee. What I noticed there made my abdomen flip: riot police in full gear have been amassing within the park, already pitch black with the streetlights turned off. This, I assumed, was the clearest sign but that Vučić deliberate to declare victory irrespective of the polling figures—and that he was ready to make use of power.
7:30 P.M.
With a way of restlessness, I returned to CRTA, the place I accepted the supply of a British journalist from the Instances to accompany him and his fixer to the SL headquarters. For safety causes, or so the story went, SL was primarily based all the best way out in New Belgrade, on the other aspect of the Sava River. New Belgrade was constructed completely after the Second World Battle, a showcase of Yugoslav socialist brutalism. The SL base of operations was situated someplace amid its imposing concrete blocks.
As we left CRTA in a taxi, we noticed a big group of males in black strolling towards Pionirski Park. “These don’t appear like college students,” the Instances journalist provided. There was no mistaking who they have been. These have been thugs within the make use of of the state authorities, their henchmen for finishing up soiled work. Our automobile sped away earlier than we noticed precisely what their enterprise was, but it surely was virtually actually one thing violent.
In New Belgrade, the SL places of work have been in a state of pandemonium. Journalists from everywhere in the world had descended on the scene, jostling for {an electrical} outlet for his or her tools or only a place to take a seat. Folks have been piled on prime of each other. It appeared we had all had the identical thought. It wouldn’t be lengthy—simply thirty minutes—earlier than the polls closed; the primary batch of outcomes would are available just a bit after that. I doubted whether or not it was worthwhile to attend issues out from SL, the place the frenzy and commotion have been distracting. And I wasn’t so certain that I needed to ring within the victory, irrespective of whose it might be, amongst so many members of the media.
8:46 P.M.
Again at my residence, I received a phrase from a well-connected contact, who knowledgeable me that the U.S. embassy had congratulated SL on its victory within the parliamentary elections. I wasn’t certain whether or not to consider it; there have been no main sources claiming triumph for SL, and it appeared unwise to position a lot too inventory in a single informant. Higher to be agnostic concerning the outcomes till the polls have been in.
9:23 P.M.
I acquired one other message from the identical supply: the U.S. embassy had reportedly congratulated SL’s representatives, however had informed them to carry off on saying victory till Vučić held his personal press convention. That press convention, mentioned my supply, would start within the subsequent 5 minutes.
In the meantime, pro-Vučić tv stations started saying their preliminary election “outcomes,” projecting that SNS would win by a landslide, securing 54.21% of the vote to Scholar Checklist’s 36.85%.
9:30 P.M.
I heard hollers from exterior, coming from many voices abruptly. Seconds later, I acquired a message from a buddy: Vučić had conceded defeat.
Instinctively, I tore my door open and ran exterior. Everybody else had apparently performed the identical. I noticed a bunch of ladies sobbing on the street; after they caught sight of me, they came visiting to fold me into their embrace. For years, Western diplomats had justified their help for Vučić by saying that Serbs love a strongman, as if it have been a acknowledged facet of the nationwide character. Now, as if to contradict the previous brocard, the nation had elected a leaderless motion to energy.
I ambled right down to Slavija Sq., the place individuals have been simply beginning to collect. We walked into site visitors. Drivers left their automobiles on the street to hitch the celebration. Younger males set off a deafening spherical of fireworks. My ears ringing, I ran into a youngster with a shaved head. As an alternative of apologizing and transferring on, we hugged and jumped up and down, screaming. One in every of Belgrade’s purple trams had been stopped in its tracks and was now being taken over by the individuals, who frolicked of its home windows screaming pobeda!—“victory!”
Everybody I met saved repeating the size of Vučić’s reign—“fourteen years!”—in disbelief. I thought of all that had transpired in that point: the relationships that had ended, the individuals who had died, the activists whose idealism had collapsed into cynicism and despair, the many individuals who had left the nation, vowing by no means to return.
I stumbled round for an hour or two—time had lengthy since stopped making sense—and determined to return to my residence. I nonetheless needed to report on these developments, produce an account of issues that will hold me tethered to the surface world.
Once I received residence, I learn the messages in my e mail inbox. My buddy Tara had written, “Actually, genuinely, behind my thoughts I feel Vučić is pulling a quick one on us in some way.” Each third particular person I talked to expressed comparable misgivings: that in some way, he wasn’t actually completed, that he would discover a technique to sabotage the second and seize energy once more, that it was all an elaborate Machiavellian stunt, that it wasn’t actually over. I may perceive why. For many who’d lived along with his omnipresence for thus lengthy, it was arduous to consider that he was gone.
Lily Lynch is a foreign-affairs author and the co-founder and editor-in-chief of Balkanist Journal.
