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.

Every month, I eagerly await the call from this magazine’s editorial team, ready to spin another 4,500-character tale about how difficult life is in Serbia, yet somehow possible—how someone succeeded “against all odds,” how “I can’t” is just an excuse, how “I mustn’t” is mere justification, and how brilliant individuals and companies don’t wait for the state but push society forward themselves. Just as I’m swept up in this enthusiasm, a message interrupts: “We’re not quite sure about the theme yet—we’ll let you know.” My concern grows. It must be something serious. A day or two passes: “What does Serbia have to offer the world besides information technology?” Really? That’s what took so long? That’s easy—raspberries, everyone knows that. I start preparing a text about raspberries—research, statistics, this will be a breeze. But the devil laughs: in 2013, Poland dethroned us as the world’s top producer of “red gold,” and last year we produced a staggering 40,000 tons fewer raspberries than in 2010. Fine, not raspberries.

Monasteries? I recall how long it took me to reach Sopoćani—turn left, no, not left, right here, no, not that way, take this small road—we barely made it to the monastery gates. And what awaited us? No one but confused Italians who’d heard Serbia had a sister-twin to Ravenna’s Basilica of San Vitale and spent nearly two days searching for tourist signage to this UNESCO World Heritage site (listed since 1979). If this is how we present our heritage to the world, we’ve hidden it exceptionally well. Untouched nature? Sure, if you’re lucky enough not to encounter trees strangled by plastic bags in river valleys, or if the state power company doesn’t suddenly decide to drain a lake in a national park, triggering landslides, groaning forests, collapsing houses, and desperate pleas from locals to restore what was. To which the state monopoly coldly replies: “Lake Zaovine? It never existed until we dammed a stream on Tara. This is the biological minimum.” End of story.

So I start mentally listing what we have that the world couldn’t do without. What if—heaven forbid—Serbia disappeared from the global stage? Would the world stop? Landmark by landmark, sector by sector, topic by topic, I realize with horror that while we’ve had—and still have—individuals and initiatives of world-class caliber, today’s Serbia is but a speck on the global scene. To console ourselves, we’re not alone: sharing roughly the 70th spot (on a rather arbitrary list) of the world’s most influential countries with Slovakia and Slovenia. Is that enough?

We’re among Europe’s five poorest nations; a country where freedom indices plummet yearly; that consistently ignores anti-corruption recommendations; that doles out subsidies haphazardly while smearing the rule of law like a child with spinach; where, as we historically demarcate from a seceded territory, entire millennia-old parts of the capital city detach from common sense into urban wastelands, often backed by organized crime; where “criminal confrontations in broad daylight are possible at any time”—more so than in all neighboring countries combined. (These aren’t my words, but the U.S. State Department’s travel advisory. My heart ached reading each recommendation—not because they’re inaccurate (unfortunately, they’re spot-on), but because the country I love, where I was born and raised, where I’ve built my business and would never leave, is publicly shamed with hard-to-swallow facts. By the time I reached the section on road conditions and infrastructure, I felt physically ill.) So what do we truly offer the world besides IT?

Nothing.

Let that “nothing” echo for a moment. It’s hard to hear, I know. But it’s also our greatest opportunity. The explosive growth of IT service exports last year proves precisely this. The programming world is a peculiar plant: it needs almost nothing to create something. A computer, internet, intelligence, and algorithmic logic (all of which we fortunately have, thanks to exceptional individuals and initiatives like those mentioned earlier)—and miracles happen, akin to photosynthesis. I know of another flower that needs just stone and a drop of water to bloom again after years of withering: Natalie’s ramonda, the phoenix flower, a powerful symbol of Serbia’s resurrection after World War I. Our IT sector grew not because of our beloved homeland, but despite it.

I don’t believe much in idols, but the thousands tirelessly working in IT, creative industries, and other self-sown fields of our arduous climb toward success deserve daily celebration. Thanks solely to them—today and throughout history—we have something to offer the world. Our homeland truly has a brand like almost no other: “nothing” worth billions annually, “nothing” that blooms anew from stone, “nothing” that daily transforms into—something.