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student protests
Serbian Students Remind Us of the Power We, as People, Hold
Amid profound shifts in power and governments across the world, they are embodying the hope and power that lies within grassroots movements and activism.
Mar 27, 2025
On the corner of West 25th Street and Broadway, a sea of blood-stained hands gather silently amid the noises of Midtown Manhattan. As tourists and locals rush across the intersection, some attempt to decipher the demonstration. A sign in Serbian Cyrillic reads, "Love for students, the ocean divides us, the fight connects us." After 15 minutes, the crowd breaks their silence, embracing one another through a shared goal, to show support for the students of Serbia.
This demonstration is part of a larger student-led resistance sweeping Serbia over the past three months. After the deadly collapse of a canopy at a newly renovated railway station that claimed the lives of 16 people in Novi Sad, the country's second-largest city, public outrage has sparked a monumental fight against corruption. Protesters first took to the streets to demand accountability from government officials for the negligence and dishonesty that resulted in the tragedy. They staged silent protests starting at 11:52 am, the time the canopy collapsed, standing silently for 15 minutes, one minute for every life lost. After students of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts were assaulted during a peaceful protest on November 22 by pro-government thugs who may have been directed or even paid by government officials, anger over the collapse gave way to broader outrage.
The attack on the students, the lack ofaccountability from the corrupt populist government, and the deceit behind the construction of the railway station have led to a larger demand to restore justice and accountability. A bloody handprint, which has grown to be the symbol for the student movement, represents the culpability that the Serbian government has in the canopy collapse and for years of an oppressive and controlling regime. The protests are writing history, leading to the resignation of more than a dozen government officials and growing to become the largest student-run movement Serbia has seen since the 1990s and possibly the largest in Europe since 1968.
For most Serbians, a movement of this magnitude seemed unimaginable, especially from a generation with high emigration rates, yet the students have made the impossible a reality.
The Serbian Progressive Party or Srpska Napredna Stranka has been the ruling political party since 2012 when Aleksandar Vučić took office. In the years since, his government has been accused of having ties to organized crime, bribing voters, and abusing its political power to threaten opposition. His populist government, and the oligarchy it perpetuates, have threatened and dismantled civilian rights and freedoms within the country.
The renovation of the train station, which began in 2021, was the product of a larger project led by Serbia, China, and Hungary to develop a fast rail pathway between Belgrade and Budapest. Vučić's boasting about the station's upgrade and the project during his 2022 election campaign only increased suspicions following the collapse when he claimed that the canopy had not been renovated during the reconstruction. Documentation that later emerged proved this to be false and showed that at minimum some work was done on the canopy. The glorified reconstruction of the station and its ultimately deadly faulty construction is seen as an emblem of Vučić's neglect of public safety, infrastructure, and well-being to strengthen political and monetary relationships.
Rather than be intimidated by the assault on the November 22 protest, the Faculty of the Dramatic Arts students blockaded university buildings three days later, inspiring universities across the country to do the same. As protests intensified, so did the message unifying the students and protesters: Serbian citizens deserve better than a government that puts its political and financial interests above its people.
The demands set forth by the students are simple yet effective: First, they demand the release of all documents relating to the reconstruction of the Novi Sad railway station and full transparency on how such an avoidable tragedy could occur. Second, they demand accountability for those who have attacked peaceful protesters, going so far as to ram cars into crowds and injuring several people. Third, they demand that the criminal charges of those arrested during the protests be dropped. Lastly, they demand a 20% increase in the budget for higher education.
Students are demanding that the government abide by the same laws it imposes on its citizens. After students were injured by drivers who deliberately rammed cars into their peaceful protests, Vučić reacted by saying that the drivers were simply "trying to go about their way," a statement that made clear that his interests don't lie in the safety of his citizens but rather the preservation of his control. The students have developed an impressive tactic in response, shutting Vučić out and appealing directly to the judicial system, the Ministry of Education, and the Ministry of Construction.
On December 15 during a television interview, Prime Minister Milos Vučević made the abominable statement, "You can't bring down a country because of 15 people who died, nor 155, nor 1,555." This comment provided a comical victory for protesters after Vučević resigned on January 25, making him one of several officials to do so alongside the mayor of Novi Sad, Milan Đurić, and the Minister of Construction, Goran Vesić. On December 30th, Serbia's Public Prosecutorindicted 13 individuals regarding the collapse of the canopy. Vučević's resignation followed a general strike on January 24 that captured the country and increased pressure on the government. As the sun rose over Belgrade on January 25, protesters celebrated the 24-hour blockade of the city's largest road junction, Autokomanda, and the new chapter that the resignation of the prime minister brings to their movement.
Most recently the students have blocked off bridges in Novi Sad that serve as the main roadways between the city and Belgrade. In January their movement was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize. But perhaps their biggest success has been in restoring hope across borders, professions, and generations.
Their resistance has spread beyond the protests and blockades. It's seen in communities set up by students in universities with kitchens, tents, and donation points. It's seen as high school students join them in the streets. It's seen in the songs they sing, the food they cook for one another, and the games they play as they block off one of the country's largest highway intersections. It's seen through the car horns, cheering crowds, and people running out of their homes with food and drinks for students marching 80 kilometers to join the Danube bridge blockade. It's seen when the Bar Association of Serbia goes on strike. It's seen as bikers, agricultural workers, and taxi drivers show up to support and protect students from the opposing violence. It's seen as peaceful demonstrations of support are spreading across borders and oceans to over 150 cities including New York, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. It's seen as students marched over 100 kilometers in the cold to join a massive blockade and protest in the city of Kragujevac, tearfully cheered on by bystanders.
Despite their success, domestic and international media coverage has been essentially nonexistent since the protests began. It wasn't until the historic protest held on March 15 where hundreds of thousands gathered in Belgrade's city center to protest the Vučić regime, that the Western media started covering the students' feat.
The suppression of protests and blockades by Serbian media is a deliberate effort to silence the students' voices and demands. With Vučić's foreign policy juggling act among major international powers, the resistance in Serbia has been mistakenly painted as anti-Putin by Western media outlets. Despite Vučić's delicate balance between the West and the East, the ideological conflicts arenot the driving force for the students; rather, their activism is rooted in the pursuit of justice and accountability from their government.
For most Serbians, a movement of this magnitude seemed unimaginable, especially from a generation with high emigration rates, yet the students have made the impossible a reality. Amid profound shifts in power and governments across the world, they are embodying the hope and power that lies within grassroots movements and activism. "Turn off the TV. Tune In" is a slogan that has been used by student blockade accounts in response to the government regulation and censoring of the media. It stands as a powerful call to action for Serbian citizens and a message that can resonate with activists and changemakers globally.
When looking at the crowds of students holding the symbolic blood-stained hand over their hands, we should be reminded of the blood washing over the hands of governments internationally. At a recent solidarity demonstration in New York, a sign reading "Jedan Svet, Jedna Borba / One World, One Fight" showcased the hope that lies within global solidarity. The tenacity, resilience, and perseverance of the students in Serbia have ignited a wave of hope, serving as a reminder that true power resides in the hands of the people.
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In the Fight Against Trump and Vance for Free Speech and the Truth, Be Like Mary Lupien
Lupien's viral interruption of JD Vance's speech falsely blaming immigrants for the U.S. housing crisis wasn't just important because it corrected a falsehood; she was defending the fundamental right to challenge power.
Mar 14, 2025
What happens when free speech is only free for those in power? JD Vance and the Trump administration claim to champion the First Amendment, but in practice, their version of free speech comes with a condition: It protects those who uphold their agenda and punishes those who challenge it.
This was on full display at the National League of Cities conference when Vance, now vice president, blamed the housing crisis on undocumented immigrants. "You see a very consistent relationship between a massive increase in immigration and a massive increase in housing prices," Vance argued. According to him, the rising cost of housing wasn't due to corporate greed or predatory real estate practices, but to migrants. It was a textbook case of scapegoating—shifting blame onto the powerless to distract from the true culprits.
Enter Mary Lupien, a Rochester, New York city councilmember and mayoral candidate, who wasn't having it. In a moment of raw defiance, she interrupted Vance's speech, cutting through the lies with a simple truth:
Vance and his allies claim to be warriors for free expression, yet their administration is actively working to silence those who challenge their narrative.
"We're competing against corporations, not immigrants. Give us back our funding!"
It was a flash of courage in a political landscape where too many sit silently while bad-faith actors rewrite reality.
Lupien, a progressive leader and longtime advocate for social justice, has represented Rochester's East District on City Council since January 2020. A resident of the Beechwood neighborhood, she has built her career around economic justice, housing rights, and community empowerment. Even those who don't align with her politically cannot deny her commitment, bravery, and willingness to challenge power.
Her advocacy has consistently centered on issues of housing insecurity, systemic inequality, and corporate accountability. And while some might dismiss her tactics as disruptive, history favors those who refuse to stay silent in the face of injustice.
Scapegoating is one of the oldest tricks in the book. Governments throughout history have blamed the most vulnerable groups—immigrants, minorities, the poor—to divert attention from systemic failures. It's a strategy designed to stoke fear, deepen divisions, and deflect accountability.
Vance's rhetoric is a classic example. Instead of addressing the real causes of America's housing crisis—corporate landlords, speculative real estate, stagnant wages, and decades of underinvestment in affordable housing—he chose to point the finger at immigrants.
Lupien's response was a direct rejection of this deceitful narrative. She reminded the room, and the nation, that the real enemies of affordable housing are not desperate families seeking a better life but corporations and policies designed to prioritize profit over people.
JD Vance and the Trump administration love to talk about free speech—until it's used against them. Their version of free speech is selective: It defends those who reinforce their ideology while crushing those who dissent.
Look no further than the arrest of Mahmoud Khalil, a Palestinian activist and legal U.S. resident, who was detained by federal immigration officials after helping lead student protests at Columbia University against the war in Gaza. President Donald Trump called Khalil's apprehension the "first arrest of many" in his administration's crackdown on campus opposition. Though a federal judge has temporarily blocked his deportation, the message was clear: Speak out against power, and you will pay the price.
The hypocrisy is glaring. Vance and his allies claim to be warriors for free expression, yet their administration is actively working to silence those who challenge their narrative. Khalil's arrest wasn't about enforcing immigration laws—it was about punishing dissent.
This is what makes Lupien's defiance so important. She wasn't just correcting a falsehood; she was defending the fundamental right to challenge power. In an era where dissent is increasingly met with retaliation, her voice was an act of resistance.
George Orwell once wrote:
"If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear."
Lupien exercised that right—not for personal gain, not for applause, but because someone had to.
There will be those who call Lupien's interruption disrespectful. There will be cynics who claim she was chasing a viral moment to boost her mayoral campaign. But both arguments ignore the stakes.
Trump's agenda isn't just about silencing opposition—it's about annihilating it. His administration has worked tirelessly to discredit institutions, suppress dissent, and consolidate power. Any act of civil disobedience that disrupts this effort—no matter how small—is an essential defense of democracy.
Moments like this come and go in the 24-hour news cycle. In a few days, most people will forget. But the slow erosion of democracy doesn't happen overnight—it happens in the moments when people choose to stay silent instead of speaking out.
Lupien made her choice. Will the rest of us?
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Knowledge Is Power. Gaza War Supporters Don’t Want Students to Have Either
Silence is complicity, and that’s the way Israel’s allies like it.
Sep 05, 2024
With nearly 18 million students on U.S. college campuses this fall, defenders of the war on Gaza don’t want to hear any backtalk. Silence is complicity, and that’s the way Israel’s allies like it. For them, the new academic term restarts a threat to the status quo. But for supporters of human rights, it’s a renewed opportunity to turn higher education into something more than a comfort zone.
In the United States, the extent and arrogance of the emerging collegiate repression is, quite literally, breathtaking. Every day, people are dying due to their transgression of breathing while Palestinian.
The Gaza death toll adds up to more than one Kristallnachtper day—for upwards of 333 days and counting, with no end in sight. The shattering of a society’s entire infrastructure has been horrendous. Months ago, citing data from the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics, ABC Newsreported that “25,000 buildings have been destroyed, 32 hospitals forced out of service, and three churches, 341 mosques and 100 universities and schools destroyed.”
Not that this should disturb the tranquility of campuses in the country whose taxpayers and elected leaders make it all possible. Top college officials wax eloquent about the sanctity of higher learning and academic freedom while they suppress protests against policies that have destroyed scores of universities in Palestine.
The ongoing atrocities by the Israel “Defense” Forces in Gaza, killing a daily average of more than 100 people—mostly children and women—have galvanized many young people to take action in the United States.
A key rationale for quashing dissent is that anti-Israel protests make some Jewish students uncomfortable. But the purposes of college education shouldn’t include always making people feel comfortable. How comfortable should students be in a nation enabling mass murder in Gaza?
What would we say about claims that students in the North with southern accents should not have been made uncomfortable by on-campus civil rights protests and denunciations of Jim Crow in the 1950s and 1960s? Or white students from South Africa, studying in the United States, made uncomfortable by anti-apartheid protests in the 1980s?
A bedrock for the edifice of speech suppression and virtual thought-policing is the old standby of equating criticism of Israel with antisemitism. Likewise, the ideology of Zionism that tries to justify Israeli policies is supposed to get a pass no matter what—while opponents, including many Jews, are liable to be denounced as antisemites.
But polling shows that more younger Americans are supportive of Palestinians than they are of Israelis. The ongoing atrocities by the Israel “Defense” Forces in Gaza, killing a daily average of more than 100 people—mostly children and women—have galvanized many young people to take action in the United States.
“Protests rocked American campuses toward the end of the last academic year,” a front-page New York Times story reported in late August, adding: “Many administrators remain shaken by the closing weeks of the spring semester, when encampments, building occupations and clashes with the police helped lead to thousands of arrests across the country.” (Overall, the phrase “clashes with the police” served as a euphemism for police violently attacking nonviolent protesters.)
From the hazy ivory towers and corporate suites inhabited by so many college presidents and boards of trustees, Palestinian people are scarcely more than abstractions compared to far more real priorities. An understated sentence from the Times sheds a bit of light: “The strategies that are coming into public view suggest that some administrators at schools large and small have concluded that permissiveness is perilous, and that a harder line may be the best option—or perhaps just the one least likely to invite blowback from elected officials and donors who have demanded that universities take stronger action against protesters.”
From the hazy ivory towers and corporate suites inhabited by so many college presidents and boards of trustees, Palestinian people are scarcely more than abstractions compared to far more real priorities.
Much more clarity is available from a new Mondoweissarticle by activist Carrie Zaremba, a researcher with training in anthropology. “University administrators across the United States have declared an indefinite state of emergency on college campuses,” she wrote. “Schools are rolling out policies in preparation for quashing pro-Palestine student activism this fall semester, and reshaping regulations and even campuses in the process to suit this new normal.
“Many of these policies being instituted share a common formula: more militarization, more law enforcement, more criminalization, and more consolidation of institutional power. But where do these policies originate and why are they so similar across all campuses? The answer lies in the fact that they have been provided by the ‘risk and crisis management’ consulting industries, with the tacit support of trustees, Zionist advocacy groups, and federal agencies. Together, they deploy the language of safety to disguise a deeper logic of control and securitization.”
Countering such top-down moves will require intensive grassroots organizing. Sustained pushback against campus repression will be essential, to continually assert the right to speak out and protest as guaranteed by the First Amendment.
Insistence on acquiring knowledge while gaining power for progressive forces will be vital. That’s why the national Teach-In Network was launched this week by the RootsAction Education Fund (which I help lead), under the banner “Knowledge Is Power—and Our Grassroots Movements Need Both.”
The elites that were appalled by the moral uprising on college campuses against Israel’s slaughter in Gaza are now doing all they can to prevent a resurgence of that uprising. But the mass murder continues, subsidized by the U.S. government. When students insist that true knowledge and ethical action need each other, they can help make history and not just study it.
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