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.

The smell of coffee and ratluk pastries. Brutal concrete beams and pebbles trapped in cement. Grand lobbies and dimly lit studios, offices and labs. If you’ve never been, this is your first impression of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in New Belgrade.

A well-meaning observer might say “there’s no accounting for taste,” and for casual small talk, they’d be right. But for a higher education institution where aesthetics—both as discipline and skill—are conditio sine qua non, taste is everything. Yet what strikes you about FDU isn’t its somewhat faded, time-warped architecture, but rather the substance being studied inside.

I’m sitting with Miloš Pavlović, the dean, and Ana Martinoli, the vice-dean, in his office. I’m pitching potential collaborations between our young company and their 70-year-old institution—media literacy, digital skills, influencer projects, social responsibility initiatives, YouTube content. They listen, silent. Across the long, dark table, plaques and awards are lined up, the most prominent being the Vuk Award. It’s easy to feel self-assured facing what seems like an old-guard institution.

Founded post-war as the Academy of Theatre Arts, the school quickly realized that theatre alone couldn’t cover the rapidly evolving media landscape. So in the 70s, it rebranded as the Faculty of Dramatic Arts (theatre, film, radio, and television). My hosts point this out, then start talking about video games, transmedia art, critical thinking, and their students’ competitiveness in the job market.

What Ana and Miloš are really describing is how an institution expected to embody stability adapts to chaotic times. And this isn’t just trial and error—FDU has codified its approach.

The faculty routinely demands innovation from new students, ensuring they grasp the zeitgeist. They’ve updated curricula to reflect media evolution, launching master’s programs like Digital Transformation of Media and Culture and Advertising and Media, while hosting conferences on political, democratic, and cultural shifts. They don’t shy from the everyday—they prepare students to thrive in it.

How does FDU know where to position itself? By embedding axioms into its strategy:

  • “If it’s about gaming, it’s about our students.”

  • “We don’t look down on competitors (even private ones)—we learn from them.”

  • “In the region, this faculty is a hub.”

The results speak for themselves. FDU is the most prestigious school of its kind in the region, a magnet for gaming industry giants, and recently secured an Epic Games grant to develop a new program in animation, VFX, and game art.

During the pandemic (and long before), FDU improvised—successfully. “We value every chance to break routine, so we’re not afraid to experiment,” they tell me. This ethos is formalized in their Interactive Arts Lab, where hackathons, gamification, VR, and AI have become part of the school’s DNA.

What Ana, Miloš, and their colleagues are doing isn’t just a knack for crisis adaptation. It’s a toolkit for navigating chaos, echoing strategies Fernando F. Suarez and Juan S. Montes outlined in Harvard Business Reviewwell-systematized routines, simple heuristic rules, and structured improvisation. These can take you to Everest’s summit—or, in FDU’s case, to another inevitable rebranding.

But they’re not the only ones who need a new name.

If we lead our companies through perpetual crisis with the same agility, we’re all ripe to become Faculties of Dramatic Arts.

So—what kind of dean are you for your own FDU?