Serbian police arrested 37 people on Sunday night following violent clashes outside the parliament building between supporters of the ruling Serbian Progressive Party (SNS) and anti-government protesters.

The confrontation unfolded around noon on Sunday when riot police blocked Dijana Hrka — whose 18-year-old son, Stefan, was among the 16 victims killed in the November 1, 2024, canopy collapse — from accessing the parliament grounds to begin a hunger strike. Hrka, a symbol of the burgeoning protest movement, had outlined three core demands: the interrogation, custody, and trial of all suspects linked to the tragedy; the immediate release of detained student protesters; and snap parliamentary elections to oust President Aleksandar Vučić's increasingly authoritarian regime.

Despite the blockade, Hrka erected a tent nearby, guarded by supporters who quickly swelled into a crowd of demonstrators chanting for justice and accountability. The gathering turned chaotic when SNS loyalists from their entrenched "Caciland" tent camp — a pro-government stronghold occupying Pionirski Park since March — hurled rocks, fireworks, and bottles at the protesters. Eyewitness videos circulating on social media showed riot police standing idly by as the attacks unfolded, only intervening later to blast deafening music from the camp to drown out the protesters' voices.

Among those detained was former Serbian national basketball team captain Vladimir Stimac, a vocal supporter of the movement. On Monday, the Higher Prosecution Office in Belgrade accused him of "calling for a violent change to the constitutional order" and inciting attacks on the SNS camp and police. Stimac's lawyer, Vladimir Terzic, fired back on X (formerly Twitter), decrying the charges as "repression and abuse of institutions." "Stimac cannot be accused of overthrowing the state because 'Caciland' is not a state organ — it's a thug outpost funded by Vučić's cronies," Terzic wrote, highlighting the absurdity of equating a partisan encampment with official authority.

The Interior Ministry justified the arrests as targeting individuals "disturbing public order during an unregistered public gathering" — a loaded phrase Serbian officials have weaponized against all anti-government actions since the Novi Sad disaster ignited the nation's largest youth-led uprising in decades. By Monday morning, the scene outside parliament had calmed, though rival groups began regrouping as the day wore on, with protesters vowing to sustain Hrka's vigil.

Sunday's violence capped a weekend of profound national mourning and defiance. On Saturday, November 1, tens of thousands — with independent NGO estimates from the Archive of Public Gatherings pegging attendance at over 110,000, far exceeding official police claims of 39,000 — converged on Novi Sad for a somber rally marking the exact moment of the tragedy. At 11:52 a.m., participants observed 16 minutes of silence, releasing white doves and laying heart-shaped banners inscribed with victims' names at the station's scarred entrance. Marchers from across Serbia, including a symbolic 16-day trek from Belgrade, flooded the streets, greeted by locals blowing whistles and waving flags in a show of unyielding solidarity.

The Novi Sad collapse — where a poorly constructed concrete canopy at a newly renovated station plummeted without warning — has become an indelible emblem of systemic corruption, nepotism, and deadly negligence under Vučić's rule. Protesters, led by university students who blockaded faculties and courthouses in late 2024, initially demanded a transparent probe but swiftly escalated to broader indictments of the regime's graft-ridden infrastructure deals, particularly with Chinese firms like CRIC-CCCC, which refused to release reconstruction documents. An independent commission of professors, judges, and engineers reported to the European Parliament just last week that high-level state corruption directly caused substandard construction and unqualified subcontractors, leading to the preventable deaths of 16 innocents, including four children.

While the movement forced Prime Minister Miloš Vučević's resignation in January 2025 after an attack on a student protester, and prompted two other ministers to step down, accountability remains elusive. Thirteen individuals, including former Construction Minister Goran Vesic, face charges in ongoing investigations, but as of November 3, no trials have commenced, and higher courts have yet to confirm indictments. Vučić's December 2024 concessions — publicizing prosecutorial files, releasing jailed demonstrators, and pardoning future convictions — rang hollow, dismissed by activists as stalling tactics. In mid-2025, he issued blanket pardons for protesters, but crackdowns persist, including train cancellations to Novi Sad ahead of the anniversary to thwart gatherings.

President Vučić, speaking on the pro-regime Informer TV channel Sunday evening, framed the clashes as a foreign-orchestrated plot to "set people on fire" and assault "a symbol of freedom" — his ironic nod to the SNS's Caciland camp. He accused shadowy Western influences of masterminding the unrest, while pivoting toward allies like Russia's Vladimir Putin and China for support, further alienating Serbia's EU aspirations.

Critics, including EU Enlargement Commissioner Marta Kos, see the protests as a beacon of hope. "The canopy tragedy is changing Serbia," she posted on X. "It moved masses to stand for accountability, free expression, and inclusive democracy — the same values to lead Serbia into the EU."

Yet, as Hrka's hunger strike enters its second day, with solidarity vigils erupting in Novi Sad and smaller towns Sunday evening, the regime's grip appears to be slipping. Videos from Belgrade showed protesters linking arms around her tent, chanting "No justice, no peace," while X posts amplified calls for mass mobilization.

The student-led wave, Serbia's fiercest challenge to power since the 2000 ouster of Slobodan Milošević, has remained largely peaceful despite August's flare-ups of alleged police brutality. With parliamentary elections not due until 2027, demonstrators like those echoing Hrka's demands show no signs of relenting. As one Novi Sad resident, Ratko Popovic, told reporters amid Saturday's throngs: "I came to bow to the strongest force in the world right now — our students, our youth."

As investigations drag on and arrests mount, Serbia stands at a crossroads: Will Vučić's machine of repression prevail, or will the echoes of 16 minutes of silence crescendo into irreversible change? For now, the tents — both of resistance and repression — dot Belgrade's landscape, a stark reminder that the fight for a corruption-free Serbia is far from over. (ILKHA)