Aleksandar Vučić lives in a delusion of grandeur, convinced that he alone is loved by the people of Serbia. Yet the truth is painfully clear: the forced loyalty he commands is cracking, expensive to maintain, and increasingly hollow. His desperate appeals for support reveal not strength, but the fragility of a ruler whose power is built on lies, fear, and corruption.
Recent events expose Vučić’s contempt for law and democracy. In one outrageous act, the government staged a counter-rally against an innocent dead child and his grieving mother. On another, 130 parliamentarians, acting on Vučić’s command, passed a lex specialis to gift part of Belgrade’s heritage to the family of the president himself—effectively rewarding personal interests at the expense of the city’s soul.
Lex specialis is not a law in service of the public—it is a weapon for Vučić’s personal enrichment. It allows him to override the constitution and existing legal protections, to seize public land, manipulate cultural monuments, and channel state resources to a small circle of loyalists and foreign investors. From “Belgrade on the Water” to the Morava Corridor, the Expo, and now the General Staff building, Vučić has repeatedly shown that corruption, not law, is the guiding principle of his regime.
This is more than incompetence—it is theft cloaked in legality. With each lex specialis, Vučić systematically dismantles Serbia’s institutions, replacing them with a criminalized state apparatus. National interests are subverted, public assets are plundered, and the country’s cultural heritage is sold off to private investors, all for the personal gain of the president and his allies.
Even as Vučić presents himself as a visionary and guardian of Serbia, competent observers have warned that his regime is destroying the nation’s cultural and civic foundations. Serbia is now comparable to societies torn apart by extremists—Al-Qaeda in Afghanistan and ISIS in Iraq—where heritage is casually destroyed for personal or ideological gain.
Vučić’s media machine spins these actions as “projects for progress,” but the reality is unmistakable: Serbia under Vučić is a kleptocracy, ruled by fear, bribery, and deceit. The lex specialis is not law—it is legalized theft. The corruption is systemic, the lies continuous, and the damage irreversible unless the Prosecutor’s Office for Organized Crime intervenes.
The man who calls himself Serbia’s leader has turned his country into his personal playground. His delusions of love and loyalty are no match for the anger of citizens who see their land, their heritage, and their laws stolen before their eyes. Vučić has exposed himself fully: a ruler not of the people, but over them; a president not of law, but above it. The time is coming when justice will catch up to him—and the lex specialis will be remembered not as law, but as a symbol of Vučić’s corruption and the destruction of Serbia’s statehood.
