The war in Iran has entered a critical phase. In the coming days, the effectiveness of Trump’s strategy—described by U.S. Treasury Secretary Besent as “escalate to de-escalate”—will become clearer. Facing the increasing fanaticism and intransigence of the Iranian regime, Trump appears committed to a controlled de-escalation, aiming to avoid being drawn into a prolonged and exhausting conflict.
At the same time, he seeks to avoid a “Vietnam trap”—the imbalance between military resources and maximalist objectives, including regime change in Tehran. Despite strategic gaps and the absence of a clear U.S. intervention plan, it remains essential not to underestimate the nature of the Iranian regime, a system maintained by violence for over four and a half decades, characterized by radical methods and regional destabilization.
This situation offers lessons for Serbia. Being the largest and most influential country in the region brings both opportunity and responsibility. Leadership based on cooperation can make a country a driver of regional development. Conversely, projecting power through unilateral dominance over neighbors leads to isolation, ongoing tensions, and long-term stagnation.
This is precisely the model currently pursued by the Serbian government. Unable to build relationships with neighbors on a win-win basis, President Aleksandar Vučić, relying on Russian support, consistently poisons regional relations, promoting narratives of grand state ambitions and geopolitical reconfigurations.
The concept of a “Serbian world,” from which Vučić has never fully distanced himself, continues the legacy of Greater Serbia policies, which have historically generated distrust and conflict rather than stability. In an effort to consolidate domestic power, Vučić perpetually manufactures external threats, claiming unsubstantiated plans by Croatia, Albania, and Kosovo to attack Serbia. These allegations, despite lacking military or political foundation, are presented as almost certain within domestic discourse and are combined with narratives of “color revolutions” and foreign interference, further deepening fear and isolation.
Such a political discourse may appear grotesque, but its long-term consequences are serious: it alienates Serbia from the region, from Europe, and from rational assessments of its own interests. This is the real Balkan “Iran scenario”—not the identity of circumstances, but a political behavior pattern leading to self-isolation.
This dynamic benefits Moscow, which profits from a destabilized Balkans with Serbia as a regional pressure tool. A recent “false flag” operation targeting a gas pipeline near Kanjiža exemplifies this, though the attempt failed due to last-minute political calculations by Vučić. Despite Moscow’s and Hungary’s interests, Vučić did not accuse Ukraine of sabotage, leaving the episode with tragicomic overtones.
It remains to be seen how the Kremlin will respond to Vučić’s occasional deviations from expected loyalty. History shows that such maneuvers are often “compensated” at the expense of national interests. Consequently, Serbia finds itself at the end of the European integration process and is the only country in the region insisting on military neutrality—a stance that in practice often masks political dependence.
Here lies the key point: the so-called neutrality is not a strategy but a justification. It is not sovereignty, but a simulation of it. If Serbia continues on this path, the risk extends beyond political isolation, potentially transforming the country into a closed, conflict-prone system with generational costs.
The choice, therefore, is not merely geopolitical but civilizational: either Serbia becomes a society that learns from the tragedies of others, or, by persistently ignoring these lessons, it becomes the next version of them.
