Tag: #CorporateResponsibility

19April2021
by Darko Soković

130 Years of Optimism

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Achieving the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) by 2030 will cost a staggering $11.5 trillion—yes, thousand billion dollars.

Right now, 800 million people worldwide live below the poverty line. An equal number suffer from chronic malnutrition, 6 million children die annually before their fifth birthday, and 620 million remain illiterate, according to the UN’s Bosnia and Herzegovina office. Poverty, hunger, healthcare access, and education are just a few of today’s most pressing global crises. The UN has identified 17 such challenges, including gender inequality, clean water scarcity, sustainable energy, and economic growth worthy of human dignity. Add to this innovation gaps, urban sustainability failures, resource overconsumption, climate change, biodiversity collapse, armed conflicts, and fragmented solutions—the picture looks bleak.

Yet humanity isn’t idle. Four years ago, UN member states adopted the 2030 Agenda, transforming these 17 urgent issues into the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs)—a blueprint for people and planet.

Of course, it’s easy for governments to pledge their citizens’ money, especially without robust accountability mechanisms. The UN estimates achieving these goals by 2030 (practically around the corner for anyone running a business) requires $11.5 trillion, including $1.4 trillion just to eradicate poverty. For perspective: Bosnia and Herzegovina’s entire annual GDP is roughly $18 billion. If the entire Western Balkan region (all six economies combined) worked exclusively toward the SDGs, it would take us 130 years—our collective GDP barely scratches $90 billion annually.

Unlike the 2000 Millennium Goals, the SDGs enjoy far broader global recognition. For businesses, their applicability extends beyond corporate social responsibility into core operations. The 2030 Agenda offers a vital framework to align local initiatives with global progress.

This conversation is gaining traction locally. The UN in Bosnia recently hosted SDG Business Week, spotlighting leading companies in sustainability. Awards recognized pioneers in “People” and “Resources & Environment” categories:

  • Isatis Software Solutions
  • Kakanj Cement Factory
  • DM Drogerie Markt
  • GOLD-MG Donji Žabar
  • Coca-Cola HBC Sarajevo

The overall 2019 Sustainability Leader, Kakanj Cement Factory, was honored for fully integrating SDGs into every business segment.

How can these strategies accelerate Bosnia’s climb from 69th out of 162 Agenda signatories? How might a company’s actions here help eradicate global poverty or gender inequality in a decade instead of 130 years? In upcoming columns, we’ll explore how to better leverage and understand the SDGs—because the 2030 Agenda deserves nothing less.

1April2021
by Darko Soković

Parade of Success

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At work, it’s easy to assume we know someone—their name, role, social circle, preferences. But people are complex, layered with identities: a brilliant colleague, an expert in their field, a devoted friend, partner, parent, perhaps a triathlete, a person of faith, a binge-watcher, or a self-taught linguist.

And what if they’re also gay? So what? It’s just one word describing a facet of their emotional life, another label on the list. Yet all these identities coexist in the same person, each surfacing in different moments, public or private.

But why should any of this matter at work? Shouldn’t professionalism mean leaving personal lives “within four walls”? The problem lies in the nature of identity: it can’t be neatly compartmentalized. We exist in relation to others. What does it mean to be an exceptional colleague if there are no colleagues? A great parent if there’s no child? If private lives with partners must stay hidden—if we can’t speak freely when needed—even a layperson can grasp the professional and psychological toll this takes.

This issue impacts business on multiple levels. Employers want employees to feel safe, comfortable, and accepted—not just because it’s humane, but because it boosts productivity. Research by Out Now estimates U.S. businesses could save $9 billion annually by fully implementing LGBTQ+ inclusive policies. Studies from the Williams Institute (commissioned by IBM and Credit Suisse) reveal employees who hide their sexual orientation due to fear suffer higher stress, anxiety, and related health issues.

Where people can thrive as their authentic selves, companies grow more effectively. In such environments, employees are 30% more likely to stay and grow with the organization—the ultimate goal of any HR strategy.

Some regional companies are already leading change. Dalmacijavino in Split recently shook the Balkans with a Facebook post featuring a gay couple lounging on a beach under the hashtag #BoliMePipi (“Pipi Doesn’t Care”). Cockta followed with a lesbian couple’s portrayal. Erste Bank Croatia boldly supported Zagreb Pride, declaring, “We believe all people are equal.” Their parent company has long understood LGBTQ+ inclusion’s value for business. In Bosnia, a Headhunter study of 61 companies found only a handful—like DM, the British Council, and Represent Communications—actively safeguarding LGBTQ+ dignity in hiring and workplace culture.

Serbian brands, however, still hesitate to take decisive steps. The “four walls” concept is tempting when avoiding discomfort or controversy. But true prosperity—especially in crisis—requires expanding those walls. For now, they enclose homes, safe spaces with friends, and a few brave companies. It’s time to tear them down entirely, so everyone can contribute fully—to their own success, their company’s, and their country’s.

Pride parades matter, but what we truly need is a parade of success—for every person, in every facet of who they are.

10November2020
by Darko Soković

I Want to Create

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We need companies that don’t just meet expectations—but exceed them, going beyond what the market even demands.

For days, I’ve been reading reactions to the video “I Don’t Want to Leave,” where a group of successful young people from Bosnia and Herzegovina explain—in a deep, affected male voice (?)—why they choose to stay in the country. The campaign is backed by a youth association, supported by companies and media, including the outlet you’re reading now. And why not? Every year, BiH loses 150,000 people searching for better working conditions and a life with dignity. Serbia has even done the math: each highly educated emigrant costs the state nearly 70,000 KM—the amount invested in their education from elementary school to university. The figure in BiH is comparable. So any initiative offering potential solutions deserves praise.

But here’s the catch. Instead of giving us, say, three weak reasons to stay, the video lists at least thirty reasons to leave! Just as you start wondering whether the point is to make the bleakness even bleaker or to offer a new narrative and a glimmer of hope, the online comments don’t hold back. The blame falls on the ruling class, the opposition, the ’90s generation, retirees—and even the youth themselves: “You’d rather live off your parents’ pensions and drink three coffees a day. Get up, take initiative—who will if not you young folks?” says some anonymous internet loudmouth. At first, I thought only a rare few were on that path, but the work of hundreds of young (and not-so-young) individuals and companies has convinced me otherwise. The combined GDP of all Western Balkan economies is less than €100 billion—about the same as Slovakia’s—yet we have 12 million more people than that small country. Things can’t get worse, so the only possible direction is forward.

The same goes for corporate social responsibility: a donation here or a responsible action there won’t fix decades of systemic gaps. We need companies that don’t just do their jobs—but do them exceptionally, beyond what’s expected, beyond what the market demands—so we can leap into the future in giant strides.

Who even knew about Tuzla’s airport before Wizz Air started flying there? Or imagined a plane ticket to a European destination could cost just a hundred marks? The airline didn’t do anything revolutionary—it just offered the same quality service it provides across Europe, doing its job better than it had to. Or take the recent introduction of 4G in BiH: a country that got fast mobile internet among the last in Europe, where only 15% of the population uses mobile payments. In Croatia, that figure exceeds 50% and surged after faster internet arrived. The telecoms here didn’t perform miracles—they just pushed the state to let them deliver excellent service, and eventually succeeded. Similarly, Sarajevo’s PR agency Represent Communications, the British Council, and the Center for Investigative Reporting earned LGBTIQ Index awards not because they had to, but because they chose excellence in fighting discrimination and fostering inclusion—simply because they wanted to.

It’s hard not to feel hopeless—years of traveling this region have taught me that. When I say, as a 35-year-old, that I’d never leave this part of the world, reactions range from disgust to admiration. When I mention that I moved to Sarajevo before turning 30—without any family ties or pressure to do so—few understand why.

So my answer to that anonymous online critic is simple: Create something more than an illiterate comment, my friend. Build something of your own, something that improves this country and employs people, something you do not because you’re forced to, but because you want to. Then we’ll talk. It’s not about what I won’t do—not even #Idontwanttoleave—but what I will do: I want to create. Here. Now. Every day. Until we’ve built the BiH and the region we actually want.

31October2020
by Darko Soković

Nostalgia for the Future

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Walking through Banja Luka one evening just after nine, the icy Vrbas wind cutting through the empty streets, I heard Pink Floyd’s “High Hopes” drifting from a doorway near Trg Krajine:

“The grass was greener / The light was brighter / The taste was sweeter / The nights of wonder…”

A group of kids huddled nearby, warming themselves while streaming music from a phone.

The scene brought to mind an interview I’d read days earlier—a disheveled, award-winning director and activist for the “Serbian cause” praising Banja Luka’s mayor for transforming “a backwater into a city displaying all the symptoms of a European center.” I cynically wondered if any of these four kids had concrete plans to seek those “symptoms” in their undiluted form somewhere in Europe, as Bosnia’s grim statistics suggest, or if at least three had never traveled beyond their hometown.

I nearly crafted a sardonic social media post about it, but something stopped me: my mobile internet worked seamlessly. Without a second thought—just as I would in Belgrade—I’d opened Facebook. Banja Luka isn’t exactly abroad from a Serbian perspective, but not long ago, my phone bill would’ve screamed otherwise: 300 dinars for a short call, 3,000 for half an hour on YouTube. Yet here I was, months into using my Serbian mobile plan across Bosnia, Montenegro, and even Kosovo (a story in itself) without roaming charges, thanks to Telekom Srbija and its regional subsidiaries. For a fleeting moment, I glimpsed the mundane reality young Europeans take for granted: borderless connectivity, flights cheaper than three Big Mac meals, freedom built on “the familiar, just slightly different.”

For us, it’s harder.

The 450 km between Belgrade and Podgorica takes eight grueling hours by car, while flights to Tirana or Sarajevo cost a month’s minimum wage. Bosnia and Kosovo enforce Europe’s strictest visa regimes, and the main border crossing between Montenegro and Bosnia still lacks asphalt for kilometers. Despite being each other’s largest trade partners under CEFTA, regional mobility is paralyzed. Roaming fees remain exorbitant (despite short-lived abolition promises), and cross-border work permits are humiliatingly slow to obtain. No wonder 80% of Western Balkans residents reject the idea of living or working in neighboring economies, while over 60% haven’t traveled regionally in the past year.

Our combined GDP barely matches Slovakia’s—yet we have 12 million more people.

I’d never call any place a “backwater,” unlike that lauded director, but our infrastructure—both physical and mental—lags catastrophically. In this disconnected reality, where Europe’s three-decade-old integration remains a distant dream, regional companies are quietly bridging gaps faster than governments. Telekom Srbija’s seamless network, United Group’s “UniFi” Wi-Fi hotspots across the Balkans, or UniCredit’s fee-free ATM access for clients—these aren’t just business decisions. In our fractured context, they’re de facto corporate social responsibility, rewriting the rulebook on what connectivity means.

Back on Banja Luka’s main square, sipping tea in a dim café, I posted “High Hopes” instead of that scathing status. Those shivering kids reminded me: the grass is greener and the light is brighter—but only “when friends surrounded.” Only where borders are clear yet permeable, where people, services, and capital flow freely, can nostalgia for the past give way to nostalgia for the future.