Author: Darko Soković

31January2020
by Darko Soković

Just a Little More

Blog

“So what are you working on these days? What’s on your mind?”

This is usually my go-to question when meeting friends, acquaintances, or business partners—partly because I’m genuinely curious, and partly because everyone loves talking about themselves. I listen to an update or two, they return the question, and then we move on to whatever brought us together in the first place.

But it didn’t go quite so smoothly when I met Vladislav Radak the other day at Bonn. While waiting for him, I vaguely remembered him from RTS’s Program for Youth, where I’d first seen him back in 2008. At the time, he’d just published his first novel—or was it several? “What a pretentious guy,” I’d thought back then. (I’d thought this, mind you, while working on a similar program—just on radio.) Later, I caught him at a TEDx talk arguing that “math just has bad PR,” and his name kept popping up in other contexts I couldn’t quite place. So I did what anyone would do—I Googled him. Novelist, mathematician, classical musician… and then an agency report: “Radak wins prestigious award in New York for best young director for a film he made at 18, for which he also wrote the script and music.” Come on, you can’t just go around calling yourself a director like that! (Though I’d proudly declared myself one on day one—no, hour one—after enrolling in film school.) And just like that, Google helped me cement my impression of this “pretentious guy”—another former youth show host and self-proclaimed director—before he’d even arrived.

“So what are you working on? What’s on your mind?”

For the next few hours, we dissected career highs and lows, workplace challenges and solutions, but mostly how life is hard, unfair, and generally devoid of perspective. At some point, I had to stop and think: Vladislav now works as a consultant at one of the world’s top firms and teaches at TU Dortmund. He’s happily married. And I’m no slouch in the achievements department either. So what the hell is the problem?

What connects us isn’t just our past careers—it’s our generation. Millennials. And not just any millennials, but the kind who started serious work before adulthood, achieved results, and now live lives we’ve chosen and built ourselves. Yet none of that has stopped us from sharing the same existential dread as our peers.

Globally, 73% of millennials don’t believe political elites have any positive impact on world affairs. A third of those surveyed across 42 countries don’t trust traditional media as a source of information. And the 2019 Deloitte Millennial Survey, published this May, paints a bleak picture: young people worldwide are disillusioned with institutions, distrust companies and their motives, and are overwhelmingly pessimistic about socioeconomic progress. Only 26% believe their country’s economic situation will improve in the next year. Half have no confidence in their personal finances and would quit their current job in a heartbeat.

All of this echoes in our conversation. Suddenly, the “pretentious guy” across from me feels like someone I fundamentally understand. Maybe because we both went through struggles far beyond our years early on, and now, in our thirties, we have the time and luxury to lament fate. (Said lament, by the way, happens in a swanky 17th-floor bar overlooking the Rhine, where neither of us asks how much anything costs or who’s paying as we order drink after drink. Turns out existential dread is more of a generational quirk than an actual crisis.)

“So what are you working on? What’s on your mind?”

“On myself. Every day,” I say. On trying to see where I am and what I have as success—on not letting the creeping sense of doom that seems to curse millennials ruin my life, plans, career, relationships. With that, we toast—me and Vladislav, the wunderkind from Palilula. I don’t say a word in the Uber back to my hotel, thinking maybe we should’ve had one more drink. That would’ve been… just right.

Is this my life now? Forever feeling like success is “just a little more” out of reach? The worry cuts deep. But then again—it’s all up to me.

28January2020
by Darko Soković

Who’s Your Athena?

Blog

Mentorship must ‘stir a man to greater strength and put courage in his heart.’

“No longer, Telemachus, will you be foolish or weak,
if the bold courage of your father has taken root in your heart—
the same courage with which he fought and spoke.
Then your journey will not fail, nor will it be in vain.”

These words, from the second book of Homer’s Odyssey (in Toma Maretić’s famed translation), are spoken by Mentor—Odysseus’ old friend—to the hero’s son, Telemachus. Before setting sail, Odysseus entrusted Mentor with “his whole household, to guard all things steadfastly.” But he also gave him something far more precious: his son. Mentor’s task was to embolden the boy, to guide him on a heroic path, to be a second father.

And 2,800 years later, this remains one of the purest definitions of mentorship. Odysseus was gone for two decades, yet his trust was so absolute that a single name became synonymous with an entire noble calling. Mentorship is crucial for anyone striving to advance—not just in their career, but in life itself.

Why Mentorship Wins

Over two-thirds of Fortune 500 companies have mentorship programs. Their employees are five times more likely to get promoted, and long-term retention jumps by 20%. For millennials, the numbers are even starker: half are more likely to stay past five years if their company offers strong mentorship (Deloitte Millennial Survey, 2016).

And it’s not just for beginners. A Harvard Business Review study (Suzanne de Janasz & Maury Peiperl) found that 84% of U.S. CEOs credit mentors with helping them avoid costly mistakes, while 69% say they make better decisions because of them.

Serbia’s Mentorship Stars

Even here, we have standout programs. Two of the best—run by the American Chamber of Commerce and the Serbian Association of Managers (SAM)—target young managers and final-year business students. Hundreds have passed through these programs, gaining skills, networks, and market savvy from mentors they’d otherwise never access: tech experts, corporate leaders, communication gurus. Recently, SAM even opened mentorship to exceptional entrepreneurs and startup founders—a chance the first two cohorts seized eagerly. Combined, these programs have reached nearly 500 young talents and seasoned professionals.

The Catch: Mentorship Isn’t About Numbers

But mentorship is more than metrics. Take The Odyssey itself: by the time the epic really gets going, Mentor has already failed. Odysseus’ house is overrun by Penelope’s suitors, the storerooms are looted, Telemachus flees by sea, and Mentor? Nowhere to be found. So why, then, do we name this role after such a lackluster figure?

The answer hides in the text: “Athena took Mentor’s form, his voice, his very frame.” Though Mentor had the credentials—age, wisdom, noble birth—it was Athena, goddess of wisdom, disguised as him, who truly stirred Telemachus’ courage.

The Real Lesson

Being a mentor isn’t about titles or experience. It’s about becoming the vessel—the “Athena”—who helps someone discover their own menos (heroic strength), shatter their self-imposed limits, and find courage they didn’t know they had. As Athena herself says, mentorship exists to “stir a man to greater strength and put courage in his heart.”

So—who’s your Athena? And whose will you be?

21October2019
by Darko Soković

Memories

Blog

Not many people I know dislike Facebook’s Memories feature. Partly because, let’s face it, we’re suckers for nostalgia—we love seeing where we were and what we were doing with people we care about. But also because it’s a brutally honest archive of how our own attitudes and public persona have evolved over time. Facebook has logged every step of my career: back in 2008, when I first made my account, I was an eager directing school grad, full of activist defiance, bouncing around in vans and crossing regional borders, torn between wanting to do everything right then and there and build something concrete in my field. It wasn’t easy. “A disheveled director with a radio show”—that’s how someone described me back then.

How do we know, when we walk into a room, that people recognize us? And more importantly—is it for what we want to be known, or just what our career has thrown at us? We’re talking, of course, about personal branding. Like any brand, this one has its visible form—name, job title, first impression—but also the subtler layers of meaning and emotion that flash in people’s minds when they hear about you.

The advice for building a personal brand is well-known but not always easy to follow. “Be authentic, consistent, and tell your story,” writes Goldie Chan for Forbes. People spot insincerity fast, so it’s best to start honest from the jump. Of course, that doesn’t mean much if your name isn’t built on solid ground. Expertise in your field, sharp focus on where you want to be recognized, and ruthless selectivity about the opportunities you take—those are non-negotiable.

When it comes to corporate social responsibility (CSR), being known in this space isn’t just about picking the right cause—it’s about approach. Are we investing company money and resources because that’s just what you do, or are we going further because we want CSR to be part of our personal brand? In an internal survey from three years ago—conducted for a major corporate program supporting creatives and activists, designed by my team—nearly 60% of participants ranked mentorship as the most valuable part. (Multiple answers were allowed, so presenting their work to a wider community mattered to over half, while almost 40% said meeting like-minded peers was crucial.) Dead last, at under 10%, was the financial support—which, in this case, wasn’t small (around €5,000 per idea).

Realizing that knowledge is the key—and that sharing it actively shapes how you’re seen—was a game-changer for me and my team. It gave us the confidence to push companies to give more than just money: to invest their employees’ expertise and inspire creativity in the communities they engage with. People in these programs became genuine ambassadors for the brands that supported them. Together with corporate partners, we tested this strategy once, then again, then dozens of times—first in one country, then many. Each time, we dissected the results and learned as fast as we could. And we didn’t stop.

For every ten opportunities my team and I could take, we’ve been choosing just two or three for years now. “Innovation,” “knowledge and mentorship,” “CSR,” “social impact campaigns,” “relentless,” “regional”—these are the phrases we now hear from collaborators describing us. A far cry from activist radio shows and gritty films—and yet, to me at least, it feels like a natural progression. When I open Memories in 2029, what impressions will dominate then? No idea. Will these current ones just be wistful relics, replaced by something entirely new? That’s the only thing I’m sure of.

23September2019
by Darko Soković

All for IT, Respect for All

Blog

No one forces IT leaders to be decent, dedicated, and invested in their people’s growth—they choose to be.

Every day, we could write about people leaving the country, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Over 60% of young people under 30 say they’ve considered leaving Bosnia and Herzegovina for good. The numbers are so staggering it’s hard to grasp what strategies could possibly reverse this trend. The labor shortage is painfully real. Last school year, fewer than 3,000 students graduated high school in Sarajevo Canton—compared to 4,500 in 2012.

Fewer students are enrolling in Sarajevo’s universities, and their fields of study are shifting. A decade ago, social sciences and humanities were at their peak; today, it’s medicine and technical faculties. A large number of graduates find their future jobs in information technology and communications, proving that BiH’s economy hasn’t remained immune to the global demand for software solutions. Local entrepreneurs saw this as a massive opportunity—and they weren’t wrong. Simply put, the Balkans can produce top-tier software and export it to developed countries at a fraction of the cost compared to Western Europe or the U.S.

This sector is among the fastest-growing in BiH, expanding by over 70% in the last five years. The Statistics Agency reports more than 1,200 IT firms operating in the country, where net salaries are 50% higher than the Federation average, and the sector exports around 65 million BAM annually. Sarajevo Canton alone hosts over 250 IT companies employing roughly 2,500 people. Within a few years, that number is expected to exceed 6,000, according to research by the Bit Alliance, the association representing the biggest IT players. That means two entire graduating classes from Sarajevo’s high schools won’t be enough to fill all the IT job openings.

These are impressive numbers for an industry that requires no heavy infrastructure—just computers, internet, intelligence, and algorithmic logic (thankfully, we have plenty of that, thanks to exceptional individuals). The formula is simple: let these people work, and they’ll handle the rest.

The IT industry is also growing thanks to returnees from the diaspora. Some of the biggest companies were founded by those who left BiH and later came back. The founders of Mistral, Authority Partners, and ZenDev are well-known faces in the sector. These people didn’t just build successful businesses—they brought back new workplace practices that have fundamentally transformed the traditional employer-employee dynamic here. They offer top-tier working conditions, send employees for training, pay above-average salaries (along with some of the highest taxes and contributions in Europe), socialize with their teams, respect their work, allow them to make mistakes and learn, and support their personal and professional growth.

“Easy for them,” some might scoff. “They’ve got money, so they can play Google.” Sure, they have money—but they also work hard for it and, more importantly, think deeply about values beyond profit. No one forces IT leaders to be decent, dedicated, and invested in their people’s growth—they do it because they know that neither company nor sector growth is possible without inspired, productive employees who show up ready to tackle any challenge, knowing they’ll have support and leave work fulfilled.

Most of that 60% considering emigration say they’d leave because they see no future here. If they stay, does that future lie entirely in IT? Maybe—but that alone won’t create a sustainable economy. What we must learn from the IT sector is this: economic growth depends on satisfied, respected employees who create value not just to survive, but to become better versions of themselves—every single day.

11September2019
by Darko Soković

Who Mows the Lawn, and Who Picks the Pocket Square

Blog

I love meetings in big companies.

Usually, I go to share ideas with someone important, to give a decision-maker insight into how my team and I think about corporate social responsibility—what we know, what we could do together. Everything about it excites me: I relish planning the ingredients for the verbal cocktail I’ll serve, fine-tuning the perfect mix of humor, seriousness, business proposals, and casual chatter. It thrills me to remember what they mentioned was important last time we met, what was supposed to deliver results by now, so I can ask about it—people really appreciate that. The most satisfying little details, though, are the business manners that go with it—what I’ll wear, which pen to bring, whether I’ll drive, get a ride, or just walk. (A Balzacian description of my simple trade: I sell. The numbers say I’m good at it.)

Eight times out of ten, I’m meeting a powerful, highly capable woman at the peak of her career—mid-thirties, in charge of communications, sometimes marketing and innovation for the company or even the entire group. That’s just how it is in my line of work: social responsibility, CSR, almost always falls under communications.

But in conversations with these impressive women, I learn that their job titles are just the tip of the iceberg. Without fail, they’re also heading the corporate foundation (if the company has one), juggling internal and external comms, putting out every business fire that flares up, staying in constant contact with top management, wrangling a chaotic flock of agencies, consultants, and subcontractors, and overseeing million-dollar (or dinar) PR and marketing budgets. On top of all that, they’re the ones deciding where to invest in the community, all while under insane pressure to deliver both a positive social impact and an impeccable corporate image—oh, and, if possible, double-digit sales growth this quarter. As if that weren’t enough, here’s the kicker: these powerhouse women usually hold the title of Communications Director, but with no team to direct, no one to delegate to—they carry the weight of the company (and the world) on their shoulders alone. And they do it so well that the rest of us in the business (read: men) should be ashamed. It’s even more obvious when you look at their personal achievements: one of the most successful women I know in this league is also a decorated triathlete, another runs an organic orchard and farm outside Belgrade, and a third (when, for God’s sake?!) walks fashion runways in her free time. Their family lives are rich, complex, and mostly on their shoulders.

The other day, I listened to Jovana Tufegdžić, External Communications Manager at Coca-Cola HBC, at a summer gathering by Represent Communications. With effortless cool, she explained how there has to be a clear link between a company’s core business and its good-cause initiatives—“so there’s always time and people to make a CSR project happen, the budget, everything falls into place when the idea is good.” I listened and thought: “Yeah, sure, it all magically falls into place—after she’s already planned and set it all in motion while juggling a hundred other things, like all her colleagues do!” Then it hits me: while I’m out here picking out fountain pens and ties, telling myself these little details spark new ideas, the truth is—they have nothing to do with making a real impact. It’s just vanity.

Without Jovana, and so many other women who create real value—without those who are both the boss and the powerhouse, the ones who get it all done—without them, we (our companies, these articles you’re reading, society itself) would’ve gone straight to hell.

So, did you pick out a pocket square this morning? Me too. But let’s be real—we all know who’s here to pose, and who’s here to work.

24August2019
by Darko Soković

Wandering Hearts

Blog

Running a business is tough, but the real Sisyphean struggle in the 21st century is finding good job candidates—and, even harder, keeping great employees.

Who still remembers Lutajuća Srca (Wandering Hearts), the Yugoslav acoustic band from Niš? In the ’70s, Dženan Salković wrote them an exotic-nostalgic love song, “Jefimija,” inspired by medieval Serbian motifs. They toured a bit with Kemal Monteno and Čola, scored a sweet little hit with “Još Malo,” dabbled in covers of The Who and Free, and even represented Yugoslavia at the pan-socialist Youth Festival in East Berlin. A little bit of everything. They lasted about a decade, cycled through a singer or two, and by the early ’80s—each went their separate way.

All that’s left of Lutajuća Srca is a faint memory and a few smooth notes only a true connoisseur would recognize.

There are plenty of “wandering hearts” in business, too. They’re only talked about in passing—at receptions, after meetings, in elevator small talk. Running a business is hard, but in this late stage of the 21st century, finding good talent feels like rolling a boulder up a hill, and keeping top employees might be even harder. Every business owner thinks it’s their problem alone, one that will somehow resolve itself. But it won’t.

Because this is the millennial generation—people born between 1985 and 2000. Older folks accuse them of “doing nothing all day,” of “loafing around,” of “not knowing what they want,” let alone how to achieve it. Yet, at the same time, this is the generation leaving the country daily in search of a better life. And ultimately, these are the same people who—if exceptionally bold and focused—are already running their own ventures. They’re slowly climbing into key roles (not just entry-level ones), with some already angling for decision-making positions. These people now dominate the labor market. And it’s only in this last category that we, as employers, can hope to find exceptional future colleagues.

But here’s the catch: where real opportunities are scarce, every chance can seem like the chance to a capable young person. I’ve met many bright, educated millennials whose only “job” is chasing the next master’s degree, exchange program, Ph.D., postdoc, conference, or seminar. They’re everywhere—constantly networking, improving, exchanging ideas, opinions, perspectives. And then, suddenly, youth slips away! When the time finally comes for these brilliant young minds to settle into work, their pre-career cycle repeats itself on the job, creating “career wandering hearts.” They’re drawn to creativity—or maybe project management. They want leadership—but without accountability. They crave making a social impact—but also demand higher pay. They network relentlessly—yet remain hyper-focused on themselves, blind to anything beyond immediate (non-)opportunities.

No wonder four out of five start job-hunting immediately, according to “Most Desirable Employer” research by Serbia’s poslovi.infostud.com—one of the few studies on this topic. Once they land that new job, they want stability and great workplace relationships—but above all, flexible hours. Throw in private health insurance and a salary over 1,400 KM, if possible. And then? Eighty percent are still thinking about switching jobs again. The cycle never ends.

Are scholarships the answer, or do they just fuel this endless carousel? The Hastor Foundation, a private initiative by ASA Prevent (one of our largest companies), awarded scholarships to nearly 2,000 exceptional young people this year alone. Smaller but still impressive numbers come from BBI Bank’s owners, the diaspora-led Bosana Foundation, government programs, and others.

But what happens to all these scholarship recipients? Can we, as businesses and employers, help them structure and direct their careers so they can light the way for others? Can we ensure that the impact of the new business generations we’re shaping isn’t just a few fleeting notes—another echo of “wandering hearts”? The examples are around us, in BiH and the region—we’ve even mentioned some. But how? What strategy and tactics will work?

Stay tuned for the next issues of Biznis Plus to find out.

14July2019
by Darko Soković

It’s Not Just About the Name

Blog

Belma, Mladen, Emir, Marina, Darko, Hajdi, Edina, Jelena, Dajana, Elvira, Vanja, Edin, Nadža, and Violeta. This diverse group came together at the end of last year with one goal: to build something new and meaningful from scratch. We didn’t fire anyone—let that be clear—and though we met in the Sarajevo Canton, we decided to act across the entire territory of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Thankfully, we didn’t have to explain to anyone why our group had such a mix of names and backgrounds. Because our companies are members of the American Chamber of Commerce in BiH (AmCham), where we founded the Committee for Corporate Social Impact.

“Fifteen of them got together, invented a job for themselves—a committee, no less!—and secured cushy positions while people struggle to put bread on the table,” a well-intentioned reader might think, hardened by experience. Understandable. But here’s the thing: our companies pay for AmCham memberships, and in this new body, we participate for free—investing our time, reputations, and expertise. The stakes are high from the start. So what’s the payoff?

In 2017, 11.5 million BAM was donated for social causes in BiH, according to Catalyst Balkans. Of that, 4 million came from companies. Is that a lot or a little? Roughly the same amount was spent last year on salaries for 97 federal representatives and eight advisors. It’s also about what the smaller entity, the state, and international institutions combined paid for Ratko Mladić’s defense in The Hague. (“The most complex case so far, so it costs more,” they say. Oh, really?) Whether it’s a lot or a little depends on what it’s for.

Companies mostly supported healthcare, education, and marginalized groups—usually through one-off actions that photograph well, sound even better in the media, and look most impressive printed on thick, glossy paper in annual corporate social responsibility (CSR) reports. Don’t let the word “responsibility” fool you here—it’s as much about society as it is about self-image and public perception.

This isn’t new. The history of philanthropy, even in BiH, has always been tied to genuine goodwill—and a boost in reputation. Isa-beg Ishaković and Gazi Husrev-beg are remembered not just as statesmen and military leaders but as vakifs, whose endowments nurtured generations of BiH’s elite. The Franciscans of Bosna Srebrena weren’t just archivists and educators—they were relentless missionaries and diplomats. Kosta Hadžiristić had business ties across Europe, traded stocks, and built a strong national program, yet all of Sarajevo knows him for donating his wealth to higher education. There’s always been a delicate balance between “core business” (as modern corporate jargon puts it) and “giving back to society.” The most effective approaches simultaneously advance the investor’s primary mission and fill gaps in society, creating a new generation that, in turn, repeats the cycle when its time comes.

As founding members of this Committee, we—Raiffeisen Bank, Addiko Bank, UniCredit Banja Luka, Sparkasse, Telemach, the brewers of Ožujsko and Jelen pivo, EY consultants, Ademović Law, and us at Propulsion—decided to invest in a new generation differently. Big names, sure, but it’s not just about the name.

Call it a vakuf, endowment, or corporate social impact—what matters is the essence. We need a new model of giving, one that goes beyond “repaying a debt to the community” in photo-op form. Those 4 million BAM? The most forward-thinking companies realized it’s not enough to solve systemic problems, but it can be invested wisely in exceptional young people—with brilliant results. They’re the ones who will build bridges here, both literal and metaphorical, ensuring that names don’t matter—but understanding this complex world and making the right decisions at the right time does.

We’re not asking what your name is. We’re asking: Will you join us today?

14July2019
by Darko Soković

Two Witches

Blog

While Herzegovina reaches the dramatic climax of an economic tragedy, here in the rest of the country, yet another frivolous story unfolds. Or is it?

Cazin, July 8 – Representatives of the IT Girls initiative visited elementary schools across Bosnia and Herzegovina, delivering ten Arduino programming kits. “These sets will help our students and teachers refine their IT skills,” said Elvedin Delalić, director of Cazin II Elementary School.

Mostar, July 10 – Five minutes past midnight, the giant Aluminij was disconnected from the power grid. Workers of the Mostar behemoth stood in shock outside the factory, while a vehicle from the MUP of HNK lingered nearby. The decision to shut down the company had already been signed by director Dražen Pandža.

What do these two events have in common, aside from happening almost back-to-back? While Herzegovina witnesses the dramatic culmination of an economic tragedy that’s been simmering for at least a decade and a half—leading to the collapse of one of “the pillars of the region’s and the entire country’s economy” (as patriotically enlightened economists put it)—here in the rest of the country, instead of concrete, useful, and necessary action, we get yet another seemingly trivial tale. Or do we? Before we succumb to the toxic mentality of dismissing facts at face value, let’s look at things from another angle.

Even before Aluminij’s collapse, Bosnia and Herzegovina’s unemployment rate stood at 20.5%. Among those aged 15 to 24, the numbers are staggering: 43% of young men and a shocking 51.3% of young women are without work. When discussing unemployment, the demands of the labor market must factor into the equation. According to data from the BiH Employment Agency, the most sought-after professions are in the IT sector—particularly electrical engineers—followed by civil engineers, pharmacists, and doctors. Recruitment agencies report (via ITgirls.ba) that diplomas from electrical engineering faculties are among the most lucrative. And yet, by 2020, the EU will face a shortage of 900,000 qualified IT workers.

The events from early July don’t just reflect current affairs—they mirror global trends. Worldwide, including in BiH, we’re witnessing a shift in economic models: the era of “giants” is being replaced by the “gig” economy, a free market where temporary, tech-driven jobs are the norm rather than the exception, and businesses hire independent contractors based on project needs. The state is aware of this shift. Last year, the FBiH Tax Administration demanded freelancers retroactively pay taxes on all income from 2015 to 2017, prompting them to form the Freelance Association of BiH. Today, it brings together hundreds working in IT, design, apps, writing, translation, online teaching, and even project management, virtual assistance, and fashion design.

This is why the IT Girls initiative deserves praise—by distributing mini-robots to schools, they’re preparing future workers for the new reality of the labor market, with a special focus on girls, who remain a stark minority in these fields. They’re not alone in this mission. The Bit Alliance and our ICT Committee at AmCham BiH, gathering the country’s biggest IT players, share the goal of fostering a better environment for the sector’s growth. Microsoft takes it further with the regional “Gen-D” program, partnering with Propulsion and the “Petlja” Foundation to offer a prize-winning digital curriculum across five regional countries, cultivating algorithmic thinking and problem-solving in future generations. The British Council’s multimillion “Schools for the 21st Century” project also operates on the understanding that digital literacy, along with creative, critical, and analytical thinking, will be essential for individual and societal progress.

So, last week wasn’t just about “two witches.” We witnessed—and are still witnessing—the symbolic, noisy crash of the old economy and the emergence of timid but ever-strengthening voices of the new era.

Which voice does your business speak in?

21June2019
by Darko Soković

The Queen of Her Own Destiny

Blog

A funeral in some village on Zlatibor. They know me here—”Cica and Miloš’s boy”—so everyone’s asking, “Where are you, what are you up to, have you made something of yourself?” I answer politely but keep it vague—how am I supposed to explain that I’m self-employed, that it’s a daily struggle, that I influence the careers of almost 30 people, that I’d never go for a “safe job” unlike 60% of my peers? And if I added that “my business” is almost entirely about social responsibility, they’d probably bury me right next to the deceased!

Small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) make up 99.8% of all businesses in the country and employ two-thirds of the workforce. If SMEs are Serbia, does that mean the contributions of the big corporations we’ve written about so far are actually irrelevant? Unlike the giants, small businesses are deeply connected to their local communities—everyone knows them, everyone relies on them, and their impact is tangible and valued, often because of the owner’s moral code. The economy’s in rough shape, so this sector often struggles just to meet basic responsibilities to employees. Though, there are exceptions.

Take “Sunce Marinković,” a PVC window manufacturer in Kragujevac, with one of the most progressive approaches—programs for employing people with disabilities, environmental protection, apprenticeships, empowering young girls, and more. Then there’s Pančevo’s “Božić i sinovi,” an e-waste management company ensuring their work has long-term, sustainable effects by promoting responsible practices. And finally, “Obuća Pavle” from Bačka Palanka stands shoulder to shoulder with the biggest companies in town when it comes to community responsibility.

While many in Serbia have some business idea (44%, to be exact), few actually act on it. And that’s fine, let’s be real. Plenty would love to have “Works at Sam svoj gazda” (Own Boss) on their profile, but not everyone’s cut out for entrepreneurship. The road to the top is tempting, but it’s also dangerous and unpredictable.

After the funeral, a dignified older woman takes my hand:
—”Maca, nice to meet you. I knew your mother—a businesswoman, a real force of nature! And what do you do, son?”
—”I run an agency that helps the most successful companies direct nearly a million euros a year toward brilliant young people and their ideas.”
Maca stays quiet, listens, smokes. She nods toward the crowd gathered to grab a bite after the burial.
—”My husband and I have been self-employed for 40 years now. We’ve hired thousands, trained hundreds. Not a single dinar do I regret! Times are tough, no lies. But you? You, son, are an emperor. Forget these folks.”

I head home a little embarrassed but also deeply proud. That’s all of us, really: if, despite all the Scyllas and Charybdises you have to navigate just to keep your bakery, café, workshop, or small production alive… you still find the strength to make your business give back to the community and lift it up, not just profit from it—then you’re already a hero.

Immediately updating my Facebook: “Works at Sama svoja carica” (Queen of Her Own Destiny). Signed, Maca and me.

27May2019
by Darko Soković

Three and a Half Collapsed Walls—Or a New Generation?

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Three and a half support walls on Corridor 10, swallowed by the earth. Two weeks’ worth of savings from slashed pensions. The last presidential elections. Each of these things cost around €10.8 million. A lot or a little? What would you do with that money?

That’s how much all Serbian companies combined invested last year in corporate social responsibility (CSR). While philanthropy isn’t new here, international companies post-2000 brought fresh business practices, including CSR. The gist? A company operates in a community, extracts value (profit, knowledge, resources, talent), and “gives back”—usually by funding a humanitarian project, sending a kid to a competition, or covering someone’s medical bills. A single issue gets solved, PR packages it neatly, the public nods, and everyone wins.

But the idea of “owing” society isn’t new. 200 years ago, during the Industrial Revolution, pioneers like John H. Patterson (founder of NCR) realized worker welfare boosted productivity. They introduced safety standards, healthcare, paid leave, and profit-sharing. And they didn’t stop at factory gates—they built legacies. Where would the University of Belgrade’s rector sit today if Miša Anastasijević, the Danube shipping magnate, hadn’t donated the very building that now houses the Rectorate?

Beyond Charity: The New CSR

Today in Serbia—despite VAT on every donation—some companies are flipping the script. Their investments are strategic, long-term, and transformative.

Take young people: if you’re under 30 here, you’ve likely graduated, live with parents, plan to emigrate, and can’t find work. Enter Coca-Cola’s “Support for Youth” program. Alongside initiatives for students, interns, and future managers, it helps thousands annually bridge the education-business gap. Though Coca-Cola contributes just 1% of Serbia’s GDP, it bets on youth shaping their professional identities—and thus, the country’s future.

Or education: Five years ago, kids learned dial-up internet in IT class. Ask a sixth-grader today? Scratch, Python, and robotics—thanks to Microsoft, the Petlja Foundation, and Digital Serbia. Since last year, IT is mandatory in 5th grade, with a revamped 6th-grade curriculum. Microsoft trained 1,200 IT teachers nationwide in algorithmic literacy, fueling Serbia’s booming tech export sector for the next decade.

And sustainability: Where would 3.5 million cans from 120+ festivals end up? Belgrade’s Ball factory (through its Recan Foundation) recycled them, educating 2 million people on recycling’s importance.

The Point? Strategy Over Guilt

These companies—and a handful of others—get it: PR-driven charity is weak. €10.8 million won’t patch our infrastructure, healthcare, or education, let alone fix them (that’s the state’s job). The goal isn’t “paying a debt” anymore—it’s investing in a better Serbia.

So they spend those millions in ways that multiply returns: a generation that won’t let the country collapse. Figuratively or literally.