Author: Darko Soković

17June2025
by Darko Soković

Protection Factor

Blog

Every Serbian summer comes with the same offerings: Arctic-like heatwaves and unlimited ice cream and watermelon. Inevitably, media becomes flooded with stories detailing how Serbian tourists were shocked, scammed, or shortchanged at various global destinations. It’s easy to empathize with these unfortunate compatriots who invested all their hopes (and savings) into those seven to ten precious vacation days—only to have them ruined.

But summer 2025 quietly introduces something more valuable than our famous “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity” complaints. While everyone flees the city and business calendars thin out, CybHER—a regional British Council program we’re supporting—offers companies a chance to trade their seasonal slowdown for new “digital armor” while opening doors to young women eager for real cybersecurity experience. The concept is simple: host an intern for three months, mentor her, and let the project handle all administrative and financial aspects. From September to December, these young women won’t be counting days until classes resume—they’ll be hunting suspicious domains by morning, discussing zero-trust architecture over pizza at noon, and writing incident reports about blocked brute-force attacks by evening. While peers post beach selfies with “click here to win an iPhone” scams, they’ll know exactly why that link leads to quarantine, not prizes.

The magic starts even earlier. In ten high schools across Serbia, cybersecurity clubs for girls aged 16-19 are sprouting. An eight-week curriculum covers security basics, shatters gender stereotypes, and maps career paths—sixteen life-changing hours that’ll make participants think twice before publicly sharing birthdates or clicking “see who viewed your profile.” For our market, this means identifying raw talent during formative years, long before university.

CybHER’s third tier targets HR practices, helping up to fifteen Serbian organizations overhaul policies for hiring, retaining, and promoting women in cybersecurity—supported by a national conference to share best practices. The circle thus completes: from a high schooler discovering “phishing,” to an intern mitigating real threats, to companies embedding gender diversity not in slideshows but in their operational DNA.

The math is irresistible—one signed agreement buys three months of mentorship with project-funded stipends. The perks? Internal PR boosts, progressive employer cred, and crucially, reduced attack surfaces during peak cyber-threat season (more abundant than Serbian license plates at Evzoni).

While competitors sleepwalk into September, proactive companies are already onboarding Gen Z talents who speak both TikTok and encryption algorithms. In an era where wars rage both physical and digital, investing three months in talent development becomes as obvious as SPF 50—except digital burns scar deeper.

So before declaring summer a “dead season,” let’s rethink. September could greet us with a new generation of cyber-savvy women under our roofs. If firewalls are the new sunscreen, CybHER is this summer’s ultimate protection factor. Companies joining this “summer scheme” early might just avoid scrambling when temperatures—atmospheric or cyber—hit boiling point.

3June2025
by Darko Soković

Steel

Blog

I tried hard to find any historical connection between us—former Yugoslavia—and them. (Back then, they went by Upper Volta.) But there wasn’t one. They formally shook off colonial rule in 1958, but weren’t quick to embrace “peaceful coexistence,” so they missed the 1961 Belgrade summit where non-aligned nations launched history’s coolest Cold War indie brand. Consequently, our greatest son never visited them—not aboard the Galeb, nor by any other means (landlocked, you see). We might’ve given them a scholarship or two for medical studies, but we certainly didn’t build them highways or dams.

So when I boarded the seven-hour flight to Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso’s capital, I truly didn’t know what to expect. The U.S. State Department’s travel advisory read like pure horror—Level 4: Do Not Travel. Terrorism, crime, kidnappings—not just threats, but daily realities. Jihadists control two-thirds of the country; over two million people (out of twenty million) are internally displaced. Outside the capital, even American diplomats can’t move freely or assist their own citizens. A state of emergency blankets the nation. I was traveling at my own risk—they might as well have added, “Don’t forget to update your will.” Is that all one could say about a West African nation?

Well, there were also the coups—failed ones in 1989, 2015, and 2023; successful ones in 1966, 1980, 1982, 1983, 1987, and twice in 2022 (January and September).

The last one brought a superstar to power.

So I wasn’t surprised when Ouagadougou’s Revolution Square on that late April day felt like a scene from a famous film—crowds, banners, chants, youth, defiance. But this time, the protagonist wasn’t a romantic Latin American guerrilla, the world’s darling, but Captain Ibrahim Traoré: a pan-African military leader with dark sunglasses, a steel gaze, and a facial scar deadlier than any bullet. To hundreds of thousands, he is the new Che Guevara. Only this isn’t the era of ideologies anymore—this, my friends, is the age of narratives. And the handsome young captain (the world’s youngest head of state) wields narratives with chilling confidence.

While the West accuses him of plundering resources, corruption, and repression, his popularity soars—at home and abroad. Traoré’s junta seized power as a “transitional government” (wink) to root out systemic flaws and prepare for fair elections. Yet no elections come, and Traoré says none will soon. When critics point this out (like a U.S. general noting Traoré spends gold reserves on staying in power rather than public welfare), the effect backfires spectacularly—a surge of support! Online, artists, activists, young leaders across Africa and its diaspora, even prominent African Americans, rally behind him.

This chasm between external criticism and internal idolization holds the key to the “Traoré phenomenon.” It stems not from his success in leading one of Earth’s poorest nations, but from the global order’s failure to offer youth anything to believe in. Traoré’s Burkina Faso provides dignity—something no bureaucracy can. Unlike the legendary Thomas Sankara (with whom he’s often superficially compared), Traoré lacks a coherent ideology. He offers social positioning. His rhetoric isn’t theory or plans, but raw grievance. He expelled French troops and diplomats, cut ties with ECOWAS, lambasted the African Union—all while praising pan-Africanism and aligning with Tehran and, inevitably, Moscow. And unlike certain presidents we know, the captain looked downright majestic at Moscow’s Victory Day parade. His message is simple: “Africa is ours. You won’t decide for us anymore.”

With Mali and Niger, Burkina Faso formed the Alliance of Sahel States (AES)—a confederation with shared military, passports, and customs. Like similar global experiments, it seeks an alternative security and economic order, free from former colonial powers. Russia stepped in with advisors and gear while the West flounders in contradictions. Yet as Burkina Faso declares sovereignty, it slides into isolation and dependence on new partners with toxic agendas—”sovereignty” today is stretchier than ever.

The captain is youth’s darling, but journalists vanish, opposition is nonexistent, and internet blackouts multiply. Military spending jumped 70% while schools close and terrorists claim more territory. Yet Traoré endures, growing stronger. How?

In uncertain times, identity trumps results. You needn’t win—just look like someone who won’t kneel. That’s rare today, not just in Africa. Geography blurs when you’re trending globally on TikTok’s “For You” page. Traoré isn’t just an African leader—he’s a symbol. A symptom of a world where democracy, economics, and institutions mean nothing. The planet craves icons who look like resistance—even if authoritarian, even if they breed more chaos. In that sense, Traoré is a romantic hero—but for a crumbling world, not a hopeful one. A revolutionary for the age of algorithmic revolt, where Instagram outweighs manifestos, and the enemy isn’t capitalism, but emptiness and humiliation.

To learn all this, I didn’t need a transcontinental flight. A scroll through social media would’ve sufficed—let’s be honest, he’s likely not the future, not the next Che.

But he is the pliable, ever-adaptable antihero of our present. And in this world, only such men thrive.

29May2025
by Darko Soković

“Of Course Not”

Blog

When the acting director of the Anti-Money Laundering Directorate stepped off the tram near Beograđanka that morning, heading up Resavska Street to work (he was, after all, just a civil servant—not some municipal cop who’d ride a Range Rover), he certainly didn’t plan to explain the obvious: that the sky is blue, the next two weeks were critical, and that in dear Serbia, institutions simply do their jobs. Surely everyone understands that. No one had called him that morning—not from Kneza Miloša, certainly not from Nemanjina, and least of all from Andrićev Venac—to consult about some hypothetical list of alleged criminals, who might be on it, or whether such a list even existed!

After all, you can’t pressure a man who spent eleven years building the foundations of the Security-Intelligence Agency as its star operative to creatively reinterpret strict international anti-money laundering and counter-terrorism financing standards to suit the current political moment. Surely this acting director—with his terrifying title—wasn’t awarded our largest intelligence agency’s annual prize three times just for—what was it again?—pleasing his superiors.

And besides, his credentials were impeccable: 1. Top of his class in elementary school; 2. Best student all four years of high school; 3. One of the top graduates of his generation; 4. State scholarship recipient; 5. And so on. (All proudly listed in his official biography on the Ministry of Finance’s website. The author of this text, also a multiple Vukovac laureate, briefly considered adding his own diplomas to his foundation’s website. We overachievers understand each other—we know the professional credibility this brings.)

“I can’t disclose details—it’s a confidential process—but not everyone mentioned in the media is under review,” the acting director clarified.

Of course the list of journalists and NGOs under financial scrutiny exists, he admitted—but it’s incomplete. Any well-meaning reader would nod: Obviously! In a democracy, lists aren’t compiled to order! The benevolent citizen thinks, What matters is that “institutions do their jobs” by the letter of the law. Surely, whispers the optimist clinging to Serbia’s frail rule of law, no state-mandated list could actually be about spin—let alone, heaven forbid, scheming, intimidation, or other extrajudicial mischief.

Yet many on the list were shocked, worried, or downright terrified. Unbelievable! On Twitter, a colleague from a prominent civil society group lamented how she’d wasted her youth helping the Directorate draft the very standards now used to target her. Hoisted by her own petard. On cable TV, a respected investigative journalist compared the list to mafia hit lists—ironic, given his decades of preaching transparency. The usual experts—those “philanthropists” who abolished donation taxes, raised tax-free scholarships, and during the pandemic collected millions in donations (even arranging for free supermarket surplus to feed the hungry)—now found themselves listed alongside alleged terrorists. Enough terrorizing us with the truth!

Had the acting director’s minister (and his superiors) really not orchestrated this? Of course not. And naturally, no coordinated counter-narrative emerged to defend the list: “Four government ministers were also scrutinized—proof no one’s untouchable!” the acting director insisted. “People, even ministers get audited. If you’ve nothing to hide, you’ve nothing to fear!” his boss echoed.

This disjointed messaging never, of course, dominated front pages or prime-time news. It wasn’t hammered home in a hundred breaking news segments. Nor was it defended by one listed NGO—conveniently close to the list’s architects—whose inclusion lent the illusion of objectivity.

And the real narrative commander-in-chief? “Of course” he hadn’t planned to comment. Why would he? This isn’t some dead-end of European democracy and human rights! Here, institutions just—do their jobs.

“Of course not.”

24November2024
by Darko Soković

The Gold Standard of Change

Blog

I watched the final episode of “Jutro će promeniti sve” the other night. It left me heavy-hearted all evening. Unassuming yet monumental for our television, for our generation. The way Vlada Tagić and Goran Stanković laid bare their souls—heart, fears, rawest emotions—then, with their team of genius creators, turned it into a golden landmark of our time through a format never before seen on Serbian TV… that’s not just a creative triumph. It hit deeper. Maybe because I, too, am in my thirties. Maybe because I, too, am a director who had the honor of studying alongside Goran and looking up to him.

Because this series is also an ode to the only certainty our generation has: nothing is certain, and change is the only constant. Solid, unshakable foundations? Those exist only “once upon a time” and “somewhere far away.”

Corporate Gold Dust vs. Millennial Fluidity

Unlike the fluidity that defines both the series and millennials at large, corporate Belgrade is painfully predictable—one thing in particular. If you haven’t attended a New Year’s cocktail “for partners, friends, and loyal clients,” a company gathering “to celebrate successes,” or an awards ceremony “for excellence,” if you haven’t clinked champagne glasses or dusted yourself with golden confetti in a luxury hotel ballroom these past few weeks—well, you might as well not exist in the corporate world.

But beneath the glitter and small talk, something else has crept into business conversations: a foggy uncertainty about the future, a nagging doubt, an undefined gut feeling that things keep changing—and we don’t fully grasp them. Almost everyone (if not literally everyone) complained about “a tough year.” A sluggish market, heavy taxes, unpaid invoices, and—perhaps most glaring—the Sisyphean struggle to find good candidates and the Golgotha of retaining great employees.

What Employees Really Want (Spoiler: It’s Not Just Money)

Employees aren’t hiding what they expect from employers: 80% are actively job-hunting. (As a thirty-something employer hiring my own generation, I’ve always believed my core responsibility is to help my team succeed in their careers—even if that means somewhere else. I celebrate everyone’s wins.) And when they do find a job, they want stability, great interpersonal dynamics, but above all—flexible hours. Oh, and private health checks and salaries over 80k, if possible. Yet 80% still consider switching jobs! Rinse and repeat. As one of Serbia’s top editors put it: “What the hell else do you people want?!”

We’ve learned from the best to ask bold questions—and answer them even bolder. So here goes:
We want, damn it, better employers! We want the values we cherish in life to spill over into work. Because the “8 hours of work, rest, and sleep” formula is practically prehistoric—hell, even “work-life balance” is outdated. Now, we’re talking about life-work integration, a single, fluid existence where work is a big part—but built on freedom, creativity, and flexibility. You’ve got to reinvent what responsibility toward your people even means!

Who Gets It?

Few. Goran Stanković and Vlada Tagić, absolutely. But some in business do, too. Take Olga Svoboda and her GI Grupa, this year’s best employer among SMEs. Or Manpower, the industry leader in Serbia, steered by my generation’s Aleksandar Hangimana. Or their peer Dušan Basalo (partner at Atrija and the driving force behind SAM’s mentorship program). What sector are they in? Human resources, of course. They know where to look and what to change—because they’re the best at what they do, often before the rest of us even catch on.

What We Really Want

We want jobs that aren’t gilded cages, but springboards. We’re fine with stumbling as we move, building homes on shifting ground. We want employers who understand us like “Jutro” did—or maybe we don’t. And that’s okay, too. That’s the relationship we need now. So 2019 can be the golden year—our year. The year of change.

29December2023
by Darko Soković

Enter Freely

Blog

In the heart of the Balkans, where the spirit of Sarajevo and Belgrade intertwines with our business endeavors, lies a tale of deep-rooted affection. These cities, where we’ve grown and created wonders, have long been the backdrop to our fleet of vehicles, proudly bearing the “VW” emblem – a symbol, if not of Balkan patriotism, then I’m at a loss for what is!

Yet, in a twist of fate, humor turned to gravity when Russia’s invasion of Ukraine sent shockwaves across the globe. I’ve written here about the collective fear gripping us – a fear of famine, shortages, and the crumbling of the global system as we know it. This anxiety paralyzed decision-makers in world forums. My colleagues and I were not immune, with the Balkan flair adding an extra layer of uncertainty.

The question loomed: Is the Western Balkans truly on the European path, or are we caught in limbo? Can we maintain a delicate balance in this geopolitical tightrope walk? Are we “here” or “there”? Does Europe even want us? Are we entering or merely pretending? These questions have always been a tightrope walk for us, now more than ever. We envisioned a business horror scenario, one that had already befallen our creative peers in Moscow and St. Petersburg: arriving at work to find Facebook, Instagram, Dropbox, Slack, Google services, cards, and global financial transactions – all the lifelines to the global economy – suddenly inaccessible.

Thus, a decision was made. It was time to alter the DNA of our organization, to transform Propulsion, this defiant speck of golden dust, into a European player, not just in ambition and clientele, but in pedigree. This meant establishing a European hub and transferring all assets, licenses, and rights to this new entity. We delved into a thorough analysis of legal, tax, and living conditions across the European Union, consulting with lawyers, advisors, and accountants. This led us to an unexpected player: the country quietly making giant strides, known in their tongue as the Slovak Republic. To quell any pan-Slavic fervor, we simply call it Slovakia.

In the early 90s, this small nation emerged on the international stage as an independent state after the Velvet Divorce of an asymmetrical federation. This separation marked the beginning of Slovakia’s economic transformation, transitioning from a planned to a market economy. High unemployment rates, inflation, and the urgent need for a new regulatory and institutional framework characterized this journey.

We all know the state of affairs in our region during the 90s. Yet, by 1997, Slovakia and Serbia stood shoulder to shoulder in terms of gross domestic product: Slovakia produced around 27 billion dollars, and we produced slightly over 25 billion. We started from similar positions, but where are they now, and where are we?

A pivotal moment in Slovakia’s history was its accession to the European Union in 2004. Membership immediately opened new markets, increased foreign direct investment, and provided structural funds for development. The country underwent rigorous economic reforms, focusing on privatization, liberalization, and improving the business environment, laying the foundation for a more dynamic, competitive, and diverse economy.

The pride and joy of Slovakia’s economic prosperity is undoubtedly its automotive industry. The country attracted major global players like Volkswagen, Kia, and Peugeot, earning the title of the world’s largest car producer per capita. One of Volkswagen’s three Slovak plants alone spans two million square meters, the only factory in the world producing four different brands under one roof: luxury VW SUVs, Audi Q7 and Q8, Porsche Cayenne, and the latest Škodas, with 99% of its production exported, primarily to China, the USA, and Germany. (Our fleet of VWs might have been a premonition of our destined connection with Slovakia!)

Beyond automobiles, and despite political differences, successive Slovak governments have invested in an economy focused on education, research, and development, creating a nurturing environment for all high-tech sectors. The introduction of the Euro and entry into the Schengen Area rounded off Slovakia’s success story as a small yet ambitious economic powerhouse (steering clear of the ‘tiger’ title, which is closer to home for some).

We in the Balkans often toss around the terms ‘small’ and ‘big’, so let’s look at the numbers in comparison to Slovakia: this year, the six economies of the Western Balkans will generate goods and services worth about 154 billion dollars, nearly half of which will be from Serbia. For the eighteen million of us in the region, it’s not a bad figure. However, it pales in comparison to the performance of five and a half million Slovaks: their GDP in 2023 will be a staggering 85% of the Balkan total, amounting to over 133 billion dollars. Let’s not delve into per capita calculations – why dampen the holiday spirit? Instead, let’s share some exciting news from the entertainment world.

Sometime in late May, Lepa Brena will hold a grand concert in Bratislava. I was told I was among the first ten to purchase tickets for this spectacle, a fact I take great pride in because who would want to miss it if she arrived by helicopter again! But even if her entrance is less glamorous, it raises the question: is our place in the European Union? We might not have a definitive answer for the Balkans, but for Propulsion, there’s no doubt: “Uđi slobodno” (Enter Freely), as evident to Brena as it is to Europeans.

5December2023
by Darko Soković

One Percent

Blog

The ceiling above every desk, hallway, meeting room, restaurant, and lounge in Facebook’s offices worldwide looks the same—a tangle of massive ventilation ducts wrapped in aluminum foil, snaking cables, routers, switches, bare lighting and sound wires, all held together by an exposed metal skeleton. This industrial-chosen aesthetic carries the signature of Frank Gehry, the starchitect behind Bilbao’s Guggenheim Museum and LA’s Walt Disney Concert Hall. Even in Facebook’s sprawling Dublin campus—which recently became the company’s global headquarters, inheriting the crown from Menlo Park (tax incentives likely playing a role)—Gehry’s raw design persists.

At first glance, you might wonder—why couldn’t Gehry just install proper ceilings? Maybe some elegant plaster moldings like in any self-respecting Balkan home, with halogen lights on dimmers for ambiance?

“Absolutely not,” explains one of Facebook’s lead systems engineers as we walk beneath kilometers of exposed infrastructure in their Dublin nerve center. His Sarajevo accent—somewhere between Marin Dvor and Skenderija—colors his words. “A finished ceiling was never an option,” he says. “This design embodies a core message—that our mission is only one percent complete.” Founder Mark Zuckerberg wants employees reminded of this every time they look up.

Consider this: Facebook’s services recently surpassed 2.8 billion monthly active users. Yet in Zuckerberg’s vision of “connecting everyone on Earth,” this staggering number represents just… one percent. The implication is clear—there’s work left for generations.

This philosophy fuels Facebook’s obsessive efforts to attract and retain top talent, especially systems engineers—the backbone of any tech giant. My Bosnian guide, who oversees three European data centers, always flies business class on Facebook’s dime—a privilege not even extended to all executives. The campus boasts Michelin-starred chefs serving free meals (vegan, halal, you name it), an industrial-scale laundry service returning folded clothes by afternoon, and relocation teams handling everything from visas to apartment hunting.

Healthcare includes on-site psychologists, occupational doctors, and 24/7 telemedicine with global coverage. The company funds IVF treatments and surrogacy. Childcare centers, yoga studios, jiujitsu dojos—every conceivable perk exists.

“Do you actually use all this?” I ask.
“Never have time,” he admits without looking up from his phone.

Of course not. These luxuries exist precisely so employees never need to leave. Facebook hires about 700 people weekly worldwide (70 in Ireland alone), though they’re quieter about attrition rates. Where would anyone go? To another tech giant? The global job market suddenly seems very small.

“Did you consider working elsewhere?”
“Only here. Google’s too geeky. We serve a real social purpose.”

For this Sarajevo native, Facebook’s employer branding worked perfectly. The mission resonates. Though after spending days immersed in their world, I realize—like their ceiling design suggests—they’ve barely begun. One percent down.

14March2022
by Darko Soković

The New Fluid Dynamics

Blog

When the former finance minister recently warned that reaching EU living standards would require us to “transition from walking barefoot on stones to taking flight,” his blunt metaphor drew sharp rebukes from officials but resonated deeply with business leaders. Suddenly, everyone grew alarmed by his prophetic calculation: at our current pace, we’d need nearly two centuries to catch up.

The message was clear—this race demands both marathon endurance and sprint speed, leaving no serious professional untouched.

The laws of physics apply equally to all bodies moving through fluids (gases and liquids), but not equitably. Air offers negligible resistance compared to water, which is 800 times denser—every movement through it requires twelve times more effort. Yet for generations, whenever our society faced important progress, we’ve essentially told half the population: “You there—swim! The rest of us will run.” This, in crude terms, reflects women’s current position in our business world and broader society.

Do women face twelve times more resistance than men? Quantifying it is difficult. Legally, we appear exemplary—the World Bank’s recent “Women, Business and the Law” report ranks Serbia among the top 20 global jurisdictions, nestled between Peru and Iceland. On paper, we’re world-class.

But reality diverges sharply. Additional World Bank data incorporating live interviews and financial indicators reveals a grimmer picture: the Western Balkans loses about 18% of GDP annually due to gender gaps in labor participation. Two-thirds stems from unequal workforce engagement, while the remainder reflects occupational segregation. Only two in five Serbian women are employed or seeking work, and those with jobs often find themselves in low-skill, underpaid sectors.

The most damning statistic? Thirty-seven percent of regional employers openly admit preferring male hires—a figure likely underreported given respondents’ candor during face-to-face surveys. So while we fight for every decimal of GDP growth, we’re effectively sidelining half our population from the race.

Over recent months, I’ve spent countless hours absorbing insights from Branka Rajičić, the first Serbian to attain partner status at PwC across Central and Eastern Europe. With quiet determination, she consistently validates her leadership—through financial results, team growth, and societal impact. Though she operates across multiple business fronts, Branka thinks deeply about legacy, with positive social influence being our recurring dialogue theme.

She’s not alone. This entire publication showcases formidable female leaders, entrepreneurs, and mentors reshaping environments through personal example. These are women confronting dismal statistics head-on, transforming lamentations into victory narratives. They guide hundreds—sometimes thousands—of colleagues and clients, unwittingly becoming beacons for others, especially younger women.

As they power forward, do fluid dynamics’ constraints still apply? Absolutely. Yet their calibrated approaches create expansive pathways for those following similar trajectories. Solidarity, while never their central focus, becomes the golden thread weaving through their companies’ successes and their communities’ progress.

These women shoulder disproportionate responsibility for change, generating an entirely new dynamic around them. Because true progress demands more than excellence—it requires the strength to alter the immutable.

20August2021
by Darko Soković

You’re Not Alone

Blog

The company I run will celebrate its tenth anniversary this January. Of course, I remember everything—how the idea first came to us, what others told us (“Don’t do it, kids, are you out of your minds?!”), how we knew nothing yet thought we knew everything. That’s just how it goes. I remember it all, but from the comfort of my office chair now, I can’t quite summon that feeling—the one that made us unbuckle all our safety belts, take the leap, and say, “That’s it, we’re doing this.” How did we manage to make every decision, somehow push through the hardest moments? Honestly, I couldn’t even make up a simple, motivational answer if I tried.

How are decisions even made? When you don’t have hard data or deep insights, you rely on gut feeling, experience, and sheer stubbornness—survive now, analyze later. That’s how we’ve somehow made it to a decade (January is still a ways off, admittedly), and that’s how countless other small, medium, and even some big businesses I know have done it too. Among the many quirks of our homeland, one of the most stressful is that barely anyone knows what tomorrow will bring, let alone five or ten years from now.

That’s why it’s been hard to adjust to a new, yet painfully logical reality we’ve been implementing in our business and sharing with others: we now invest enormous effort and resources into truly understanding the people we’re speaking to—their habits, needs, ideas, values, how they consume information, how they entertain themselves, how they celebrate. In the communications business, these insights are practically our lifeblood, but they’re becoming unavoidable for everyone.

Here’s an exclusive for loyal readers: 44% of Serbian teens aged 12–17 have a TikTok account. What does that mean for you as a parent? What does it mean for you as a leader? Will you be among those mothers and fathers who recently lost their minds when a Belgrade municipality invited a successful athlete (who also happens to be a TikToker) to give a school lecture? The kids, of course, went wild—the parents were scandalized. And while you or I may not have even heard of TikTok a year or so ago, 2% of our citizens now say it’s their primary source of news about the world around them. “No big deal,” you might say—and I’d agree, if the data didn’t also show that only 3% rely on Twitter (yes, that blue hive of “layabouts and latte-sippers” whose soundbites regularly end up on A3 posters printed in full color and brought into TV studios by the president).

The most trusted news source? Online portals (24%). Traditional print media? A measly 2%. (What a paradox that I’m writing this in a magazine.) But here’s the kicker: 4% of Serbians place the most trust in influencers.

When it comes to social media, Facebook still dominates—60% of people use it daily—followed by YouTube and Instagram. Over 60% of our citizens are on Viber. These numbers come from the extensive Media and Digital Literacy in Serbia study conducted by CeSID for Propulsion. The research, carried out over the past 12 months with a sample of 1,500 citizens (plus employees in public administration, businesses, media houses, universities, students, and influencers), was published just days ago at the end of September.

A few more fresh insights I wish we’d had when starting our business – if you’re planning a social media presence, know that almost no one scrolls the news feed on Facebook or Instagram anymore. What’s catching attention instead? Instagram Stories, which about 40% of Serbians exclusively watch rather than browsing traditional feeds. Messaging apps are dominating too, with a whopping 83% actively using Facebook Messenger for daily communication. And in an interesting twist, Facebook Groups are staging a major comeback, currently being used by 46% of our citizens for everything from local community discussions to niche interest groups.

These figures become even more significant when you consider they represent our general population – not just the tech-savvy or social media power users. That’s exactly why we’ve gone beyond surface-level reporting and published everything in far greater detail at novapismenost.rs. We’re firm believers that reliable data – the kind that should drive real business and policy decisions – needs to be freely available to everyone who needs it: from entrepreneurs and marketers to media professionals, government institutions, educators, influencers, and really anyone trying to navigate our rapidly evolving digital landscape.

Crucially, these figures represent the general population—not just internet or social media users. That’s why we’ve published everything in far greater detail at novapismenost.rs, because we believe reliable data—the kind that drives real decisions—should be available to everyone: businesses, media, institutions, communicators, influencers, and society at large.

How we receive information, from whom, and how we process it to make decisions have become the most critical skills we—as responsible individuals, whether in private life or business—must master. Otherwise, someday, they might write about us as “former giants brought to their knees,” who “failed to adapt to the new era.”

Is it hard? For me and my team too, believe me. But we have to. And don’t worry—you’re not alone.

10June2021
by Darko Soković

Where Are Your Kids?

Blog

One thing’s for sure: your kids—whether you’re their parent or teacher—aren’t reading this article, nor do they care about public media portals or other news outlets (all research confirms this). So relax, and let’s talk about where Gen Z and younger kids spend their time, how they entertain themselves, where they get their information, what excites them, and what makes them cry.

The answer to all these questions can be summed up in one word: online. And that’s not exactly news, is it? But the problem with today’s world—both offline and online—is that it’s so complex that we first need a deep theoretical understanding just to grasp reality in these two realms, followed by a set of practical approaches and tricks to navigate the overwhelming jungle of content. An adult might ignore this when making choices for themselves, but when your responsibility extends to the future of a young person, there’s no room for improvisation.

We often hear parents lamenting their kids’ digital skills, saying they can’t even keep up with where their children go online, what they can do on various devices, and how everything has gone to hell—so much so that their predictions about the future of the digital space are bleak and grim. Research from the New Literacy program, run by Propulsion with USAID, isn’t surprising: four out of five parents think their kids are on YouTube, but they’re actually all on TikTok; they trust influencers the most and look for ways to escape parents who think they’re helping them stay safe online by demanding their social media passwords. Who can even keep up anymore? Any parent would feel incompetent in the face of their child’s technical knowledge and digital speed. How do you help a kid? Do they even need help? Should we just step aside because who can keep up with them? So many questions, so few answers.

The younger the generation, the better their technical skills (we’re “digitally savvy,” as the experts say). But the way the digital world we live in shapes our thoughts, attitudes, and ultimately the decisions we make—that’s the realm of “new literacies.” These include digital, media, information, financial, health, emotional, and every other kind of literacy—and there’s a lot of room for improvement.

Let’s try not to lecture each other (even though that’s our first instinct) and instead listen and learn about new media and digital literacy, no matter which generation we belong to. If you’re genuinely wondering where your kids are, maybe it’s because we adults no longer know where we are either. So there’s no shame in asking someone younger—you’d be surprised how much they know. And all it takes is one click.

10May2021
by Darko Soković

Serbs Most Digitally Literate, Internet in Serbia Safe Thanks to Dialogue Between Kids and Parents

Blog

If you believed every word of this headline without bothering to fact-check it—you’re not alone. Half of citizens almost never pay attention to media sources, and two-thirds only read the headline and a bit more, according to a CeSID study conducted for Propulsion and USAID as part of the New Literacy program.

Let’s be clear: we’re not digitally illiterate, but we’re far from excelling. The younger the generation, the better their technical skills (we’re “digitally savvy,” as experts say). But how the digital world influences us—shaping our thoughts, attitudes, and ultimately our decisions—that’s where media, information, and digital literacy come in, and there’s plenty of room for improvement.

Over 60% of us use Viber and Facebook, but these averages mostly include older users. While you, as a parent, scroll through Facebook or Instagram in the morning, your kids are on Instagram Stories, Reels (do you even know what that is?), and TikTok, where more than half of Serbian teens have an account. While you “like” posts from close friends and family, your kids follow “unknown people from their generation with entertaining content” who “show life as it is, without sugarcoating”, as kids told the New Literacy program.

If you’re over 30, terms like “influencer” or “TikTok” probably trigger unease and dark premonitions. And why wouldn’t they? Mainstream media, which barely understands these phenomena (and somewhat fears them), only highlights bizarre stories about them.

Take, for example, the 7th most popular TikToker in the Balkans—Luka Bojanović Bojanče from Montenegro, with 630,000 followers (more than Montenegro’s entire population). No Montenegrin media outlet even comes close to that reach. Fortunately, Bojanče understands that he himself is a kind of media, with significant influence and responsibility. These days, he’s working with a student organization to patiently and responsibly educate people, urging Montenegrins to get vaccinated and generally promoting dialogue, understanding, and learning.

Many of his peers, however, were caught off guard by fame, leaving them frozen in the headlights of millions of followers. This hesitation often takes grotesque turns, spilling over into negative influence. To “protect” kids from this, 62% of parents unsuccessfully restrict internet access, while few have any meaningful conversation with their children about online behavior. And when they do, it’s rarely about building trust—more often, it’s demanding passwords or stalking them online, earning the title of “clueless boomers.”

So how can this headline become truly accurate and firmly grounded in reality? The solution is both painfully simple and painfully obvious:

Talk. Listen. Learn from each other—even if you live under the same roof. And don’t be afraid to check a credible source, study, guide, or webinar, because this new era demands completely new media and digital literacy. Programs like ours—novapismenost.rs and medijskapismenost.com—exist for exactly that reason.