Tag: #Serbia

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.

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.”

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.

1April2021
by Darko Soković

Parade of Success

Blog

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.

11May2020
by Darko Soković

The New Literacy

Blog

I’ve been a proud resident of our homeland since birth. My not-so-long life in Serbia—I’ll turn 35 this year—has gifted me what you might call a crash course in Serbian clichés: I’ve been a citizen of four different states while never leaving Belgrade, enjoyed two states of emergency and one state of war, had tear gas thrown in front of the National Assembly at least twice (maybe three times—I lost count, though I do remember conveniently being abroad during that whole “illegal footwear appropriation for Kosovo” incident, much like our then-president). I’ve witnessed two tank battalions in the streets, hyperinflation, once-in-a-century floods, multiple referendums, dramatic shortages, a few sieges over freedom of assembly, two instances of pot-banging from balconies, two zeniths of whistles and vuvuzelas, two major counter-protests, and a handful of side dramas.

Then there’s the time a pop starlet sang on bridges during air raids (and again, 20 years later, in a ghost city under police curfew), or when special forces striked with armored vehicles on the highway, or when MiGs buzzed overhead in low flight, or during derby riots, or when mafia clans wiped each other out in broad daylight, or when a “complete idiot” temporarily abolished the state and his bulldozers razed entire neighborhoods after tying up bystanders—only for the police to hang up on those terrified hostages when they called for help. Minor details, really.

In this circus, all we were missing was another serious pandemic in the last two decades. Humanity will eventually defend itself and recover from new viral diseases—epidemiologists assure us, and history confirms it—but what about the lasting social and economic scars? No one knows. Here we are, drowning in an explosion of information: verified facts, half-truths, outright lies, surreal conspiracy theories, and the sheer human need to process incomprehensible global shocks into some coherent, digestible narrative.

One thing is certain: nothing will ever be the same, simple, or easily understandable again. As Satchit Balsari, Caroline Buckee, and Tarun Khanna note in Harvard Business Review, we’re entering an era where we must learn to navigate contradictions that would make Schrödinger’s cat dizzy. We’re told to both isolate and expose ourselves, to reduce contacts while increasing productivity, to expect a second pandemic wave while being assured it might never come.

This new reality demands nothing less than a complete rewiring of how we process information. We need to develop the ability to think critically while identifying credible sources, to respect authority while still verifying its claims. The modern world requires us to parse complex data, extracting only what’s relevant while discarding the noise, and to defend against conspiracy theories not with knee-jerk reactions but with open minds capable of contextualizing even the most outrageous claims. Perhaps most crucially, we must grow comfortable viewing uncertainty through the lens of probability rather than binary absolutes, understanding that most of life’s important questions don’t have clear yes-or-no answers.

The greatest challenge may be making peace with the unknown—accepting that little is certain anymore, that change happens by the hour rather than by the day. Those comforting, straightforward narratives we relied on in simpler times have become obsolete. Where Schrödinger’s cat was once just a physicist’s playful thought experiment, we now find ourselves living inside that very paradox every single day.

When a friend recently quipped, “We’ve lost our minds!” I had to wonder—have we? The truth is, I don’t know. But what I do know is this: I’m no longer afraid to take that leap into the unknown, because in this strange new world, that’s the only way any of us will ever truly understand what’s happening.

27May2019
by Darko Soković

Nothing

Blog

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.