The Nation as Martyr: Serbia’s Victimhood Narrative and the Fracturing of State Identity Fractured States Series — Vol. I

Fractured States – Series Introduction

This intelligence brief is the first installment in Fractured States, Prime Rogue Inc.’s new geopolitical series profiling nations whose internal cultural narratives, identity wounds, and unresolved traumas structurally predispose them to instability, aggression, or authoritarian drift. These are not failed states — they are prefractured ones: nations that may appear orderly, but whose political postures and foreign policies are deeply shaped by historical grievance, myth, and siege mentalities.

We begin with Serbia: a nation whose identity as eternal victim has become both shield and sword — distorting memory, fueling denial, and shaping a state that remains haunted by its past, and dangerous to its future.

Introduction

The Nation as Martyr: Serbia’s Eternal Return to Victimhood

Few modern states have so thoroughly mythologized their suffering as Serbia. From medieval defeat to NATO bombardment, Serbian national identity has been forged in the crucible of trauma—real, embellished, and imagined. At the heart of this identity lies a powerful and perilous narrative: that Serbia is the perpetual victim of foreign betrayal, existential siege, and cosmic injustice. Over centuries, this story has evolved from folklore into political doctrine, from poetry into propaganda. It has sacralized defeat, justified aggression, and insulated a society from reckoning with its own role in violence.

This intelligence brief traces the arc of that narrative—from the 14th-century Kosovo myth to the 21st-century media state of Aleksandar Vučić—examining how a culture of martyrdom became a machinery of denial and defiance. We explore how the story of Serbian victimhood has been repeatedly weaponized: to mobilize war, suppress dissent, resist integration, and glorify the nation’s imagined purity. More than a political tool, victimhood has become a dramaturgical identity—a script that casts Serbia not merely as a nation, but as a sacred protagonist in an unending historical tragedy.

To understand Serbia’s present posture—domestically authoritarian, regionally destabilizing, and diplomatically conflicted—we must begin with the myths it tells itself. Because when a nation confuses pain with virtue, and trauma with truth, the past is never past. It becomes destiny.

Historical Background

19th-Century Foundations of Victimhood

Modern Serbia’s self-image was shaped by a legacy of real and perceived historical traumas under foreign domination. After centuries under the Ottoman Empire, Serbian national ideology coalesced around the Kosovo myth – the 1389 Battle of Kosovo, in which medieval Serbia was defeated by the Ottomans, which became a legend of martyrdom. Serbian epic poetry and folklore cast Prince Lazar and the fallen warriors as Christ-like martyrs who chose a “heavenly kingdom” over an earthly one​. In this narrative, Serbia saw itself as the “Antemurale Christianitatis” (bulwark of Christianity) – a small nation defending Christian Europe against the Islamic East​. This myth, revived and romanticized in the 19th century, nurtured a sense of being a chosen people who suffered a “Golden Age and Fall.”​ Montenegrin prince-poet Petar II Njegoš’s The Mountain Wreath (1847) further sacralized the Kosovo legend, lamenting Serbia’s fall from grace and glorifying righteous revenge against Ottoman converts​. Such works became “scripture-like tales” fueling Serbian national consciousness​. By the late 1800s, generations of Serbs were inculcated with the belief that “cosmic injustices have been heaped on [the] Serbian people,” and that any violence Serbs committed was merely self-defense against historic oppressors​. This epic victimage theme helped forge unity and resilience, but also planted the idea that Serbia was eternally wronged by others.

Myth and Reality in Early Conflicts

The Victimhood identity took hold even as Serbia won independence and engaged in its own wars. Serbian leaders from Nikola Pašić (World War I prime minister) to Slobodan Milošević (1990s president) all invoked the Kosovo legend to justify political aims​. This had real consequences: seeing themselves as liberators avenging past wrongs, Serbian forces at times became perpetrators. In the 1912 Balkan War, acting on “medieval claims” to Kosovo, the Serbian army “committed systematic atrocities against Albanians” while occupying Kosovo and parts of northern Albania​. A contemporary Serbian socialist, Dimitrije Tucović, warned that Serbia’s brutal campaign had turned Albanians into “sworn enemies”​. Yet such dark episodes were downplayed in national memory. Instead, Serbia highlighted its martyrdom in World War I: attacked by Austro-Hungarian forces in 1914, Serbia lost an immense portion of its population during WWI – often cited as around 25% of its prewar inhabitants (and over half of all adult males)​. These cataclysmic losses enshrined Serbia’s image as a sacrificial nation that “heroically suffered” for freedom. Similarly, during World War II, Serbs endured genocide at the hands of the Croatian Ustaša regime (e.g. mass killings at the Jasenovac camp) and brutal occupation by Nazi Germany. Tens of thousands of Serbs were victims of fascist atrocities, reinforcing the collective memory of Serbs as targets of others’ genocidal intent. Meanwhile, the communist Yugoslav regime after WWII suppressed open ethnic narratives, promoting “brotherhood and unity.” But underneath, a sense of grievance – especially over WWII crimes – persisted among Serbs, awaiting political exploitation.

The 1990s and the Post-Yugoslav Wars

In the 1980s, as Yugoslavia unraveled, Serbian intellectuals explicitly resurrected the victimhood discourse. The 1986 SANU Memorandum (drafted by Serbian Academy of Arts and Sciences) painted Serbs as the primary victims within Yugoslavia. It alleged that Serbs in Kosovo were facing “physical, political, legal, and cultural genocide” at the hands of Albanians​. It also claimed Serbs in Croatia were threatened, and blamed a biased federal system for Serbia’s woes​. This “one-sided emphasis on Serbian victimisation” became pervasive in public debate thereafter​. Slobodan Milošević, though a Communist functionary, astutely harnessed this narrative. In April 1987, he traveled to Kosovo Polje amid Serb protests and famously told the crowd: “No one should dare to beat you again!” – presenting himself as the protector of Serbs who had been abused. This dramatic “Kosovo moment” (as later described) was a performance that set the tone for a decade of ethnic strife. By casting Serbs in Kosovo as innocent victims under siege, Milošević legitimized a hardline nationalist turn.

Throughout the Yugoslav wars of the 1990s (Croatia 1991–95, Bosnia 1992–95, Kosovo 1998–99), the Serbian state and media cultivated a siege mentality. The leadership’s rhetoric depicted Serbs as reluctantly fighting defensive wars. All Serbian military actions were portrayed as protecting Serb populations from genocide or persecution by Croats, Bosniaks (Bosnian Muslims), Albanians, and even Western powers. Historical traumas were continuously invoked: Serb propaganda equated contemporary Croat forces with the WWII Ustaša (implying Serbs would be exterminated if they didn’t fight), and labeled Bosniak Muslims as modern-day “Turks” poised to oppress Christian Serbs. The Kosovo myth was “activated” again, now to justify crushing Albanian separatism by claiming Kosovo’s liberation was a sacred national duty​. By the late 20th century, Serbia’s state identity had taken on a dramaturgical cast: leaders staged themselves and the nation as the tragic hero-victim of Balkan history. Even as Serb forces committed atrocities (such as the Srebrenica massacre of 8,000 Bosniak men and boys in 1995, or the siege of Sarajevo), the dominant Serbian narrative denied or rationalized these crimes. Guilt was transposed onto others – Croats, Bosniaks, Albanians – who were accused of equal or greater misdeeds​. Thus Serbia, in its own narrative, remained the aggrieved party even amid wars it actively fueled.

Psychological and Cultural Analysis

Serbia’s victim-centric identity can be examined through political psychology and cultural studies. A key concept is collective victimhood – a mindset where a group’s historical suffering becomes central to its identity and is continually reinforced. In Serbia’s case, centuries of real traumas (defeats, foreign oppression, wartime losses) have been memorialized in a way that emphasizes Serbian innocence and martyrdom. Over time, this has crystallized into what one Serbian philosopher calls an “eternal victim syndrome,” a belief that Serbs are perpetual victims “of God, of evil, of bloody Europeans, Croats, … destiny.”​ This mindset is so entrenched that, as Ivan Milenković quips, “Serbs don’t recognize defeats. We are victims.”​ In other words, any outcome (even military loss or political failure) is reinterpreted not as a shortcoming of the nation but as further evidence of others’ malice or global injustice.

National Myths and Memory

Culturally, the Serbian victim narrative is transmitted through folklore, literature, history education, and public commemorations. The Kosovo myth is a foundational story retold in songs, church sermons, and school textbooks – framing Serbs as a martyred people who chose sacrifice over dishonor​. The Serbian Orthodox Church has canonized Kosovo’s Prince Lazar as a martyr-saint, reinforcing the idea of holy suffering. Folk epics celebrate heroes who died in doomed battles, sending the message that loss and pain for the nation are sanctified. During the Yugoslav breakup, these myths were deliberately leveraged: state media repeatedly referenced the “600-year-long struggle” since Kosovo​, equating current adversaries with ancient foes. Sociopolitical analysts note that such narratives create a strong in-group unity against demonized out-groups – a classic “us vs. them” worldview​. Serbian history textbooks in the 2000s and 2010s have been found to build national identity “on themes of victimhood and perceived unfairness in the past,” while silencing or minimizing in-group (Serbian) wrongdoings​. By teaching youth that Serbs have been unjustly treated through history, the education system instills pride and grievance, but not critical reflection on Serbia’s own culpabilities.

Psychological Effects

The perpetual victim narrative carries several psychological and cultural consequences:

Moral Superiority and “Victim’s Privilege”

Paradoxically, self-victimization can breed a sense of moral superiority. If Serbs see themselves as the ultimate victims, they may view their cause as inherently just – granting them a kind of moral license. As one historian observes, “the role of the victim secures a permanent moral and political privilege that can be ‘redeemed’ in the present,” both in international discourse and domestic politics​. In this view, being a victim bestows a blank check for future actions: past suffering becomes a justification for present aggression. “Current or future violence by the ‘victims’ may be justified in the name of past suffering”, Stojanović writes. “The victim has an indulgence for all present and future deeds.”​ This psychology was evident in the 1990s: Serb perpetrators of ethnic cleansing often believed (or claimed) they were pre-empting even worse violence against their own community – thus excusing their brutality as a lesser evil.

Competitive Victimhood

In the former Yugoslavia, each ethnic group has at times vied for recognition as the greatest victim of history. In Serbia, this has taken the form of what Amos Oz termed a “world championship of victims”​. Serbian national discourse frequently ranks Serb suffering as equal or second only to that of the Jews during the Holocaust​. (Milenković wryly notes that “the first place [in victimhood] is taken by the Jews, but Serbs are also very high on the list.”​) This competitive victimhood means Serbian media and leaders tend to emphasize Serbian losses and downplay others’. For instance, in World War II commemorations, Serbian narratives focus heavily on Serb victims of fascism, sometimes to the exclusion or minimization of other victims. This memory competition can distort historical truth and impede empathy, as each group asserts its suffering “brings moral advantage” and uses it to trump the other side’s claims​.

Denial and Cognitive Dissonance

Embracing a victim identity makes it psychologically difficult to acknowledge one’s own group as a perpetrator. Admitting Serbian war crimes would conflict with the ingrained self-image of righteousness. The result is widespread denial, relativization, or apologia regarding the 1990s atrocities. Sociologist Sabrina Ramet observes that after Yugoslavia’s collapse, a “denial syndrome” set in: many Serbs transposed guilt onto other groups and engaged in “dysphoric rumination” – bitterly stewing over historical grievances​. In Serbian popular culture and media, one finds bizarre claims that “the victims…killed themselves” rather than being killed by Serbs​, or conspiracy theories that massacres were “staged” to malign Serbia. Such narratives, however fringe, indicate the extent of collective cognitive dissonance: to preserve the notion of Serbs as honorable victims, evidence of Serbian crimes is explained away as fabrication or provocation. Even moderate Serbs often resort to whataboutism (“yes, Srebrenica was bad, but what about Serb victims in Krajiina or NATO’s bombs?”) – a psychological defense to avoid full confrontation with guilt.

Culturally, the victimhood identity is reinforced through media and commemorative practices. Each March, Serbian state media somberly marks the anniversary of the 1999 NATO bombing of Yugoslavia, highlighting the civilian deaths and material destruction as an unjust tragedy. Memorials and documentaries present Serbia as the “David” against NATO’s “Goliath”, emphasizing Serbian resilience and suffering​. Meanwhile, the stories of non-Serb victims of Serb forces (e.g. the ethnic Albanian civilians killed or expelled in Kosovo, or Bosniak victims of genocide) receive scant attention in Serbian popular culture. This selective remembrance ensures that the collective trauma felt by Serbs is kept vivid – fostering patriotism and unity – but the collective trauma Serbs inflicted on others remains marginal in the national consciousness.

Political and Media Dynamics

Nationalist Politics and the Victimhood Script

Serbia’s domestic politics since the 19th century have repeatedly leveraged the “victim turned avenger” motif. Serbian politicians found that casting the nation as a wronged hero could mobilize public support and deflect criticism. During World War I, Prime Minister Nikola Pašić invoked Serbia’s suffering at Austro-Hungarian hands to strengthen Yugoslav unity under Serbian leadership​. In the late communist era, Slobodan Milošević and the Serbian nationalist elite used victim rhetoric to galvanize a restive population. The SANU Memorandum (1986) can be seen as an elite-sanctioned propaganda blueprint: by asserting that Serbs faced “genocide” in Tito’s Yugoslavia​, it provided Milošević a pretext to recentralize power and later to intervene in other republics “to protect Serbs.” Milošević’s stagecraft was evident in the 1989 Gazimestan speech (commemorating 600 years since the Battle of Kosovo), where before a million listeners he spoke of Serbs’ historic battles and warned “again we are facing battles and quarrels,” justifying future conflict as sadly unavoidable in order for Serbs to survive as a nation. The president’s performance merged past and present, embedding the coming wars in a continuum of righteous Serbian struggle.

Throughout the 1990s wars, Serbian state-controlled media was instrumental in amplifying the victimhood narrative. Radio Television of Serbia (RTS) and regime-friendly newspapers inundated the public with imagery of Serb suffering: footage of Serbian refugees fleeing Croatia, stories (sometimes fabricated) of Serb civilians massacred by enemy forces, and reminders of WWII horrors. This propaganda often had explicit falsehoods – for example, Serbian TV accused Bosnian Muslims of “shelling their own people” in Sarajevo to blame Serbs, and denied the scale of massacres like Srebrenica​. Simultaneously, media demonized rival ethnic groups and Western powers. The EU and the US were portrayed as inherently anti-Serb, continuing a long tradition of foreign betrayal. By controlling the narrative, Serbian leaders stoked a culture of belligerent defensiveness: the populace was prepared to tolerate hardship (sanctions, conscription, casualties) because they believed Serbia was fighting for its very survival against implacable foes. This “permanent siege” mentality – the sense of being encircled by enemies – bred popular support for hardline and militaristic policies, or at least a resigned acceptance of them.

“Dramaturgical” Leadership and Media Control

Political scientists have noted that Serbian leaders often behave as dramaturges, crafting a theatrical narrative of the nation with themselves in the lead role. In the current era, President Aleksandar Vučić (a former protégé of Milošević) exemplifies this tendency. Vučić tightly controls Serbia’s media landscape, ensuring his narratives saturate public discourse​​. Two “scripts” recur in his political theatre. The first script casts Vučić – and by extension Serbia – as “a man perpetually under siege – a victim, battered by dark and nameless forces.” In a dramatic twist, he also portrays himself as the rescuer: “both the damsel and the knight, the persecuted and the triumphant,” as one analysis puts it​. This performance of simultaneous victimhood and heroism is a direct continuation of the Milošević-era trope of the “victimized hero”​. Vučić’s lengthy, emotional television monologues (often carried live on all major networks) depict him and the Serbian people bravely withstanding conspiracies – whether it be Western pressure over Kosovo, alleged assassination plots, or economic sabotage by foreign NGOs – only to overcome them through perseverance​​. Such messaging reinforces the idea that Serbia’s default state is struggle: the nation must constantly fight unjust assaults on its dignity, and only a strong, paternalistic leader can save it.

Under Vučić’s regime, as under Milošević’s, the media has been purged of dissenting views and repurposed as a propaganda machine. By one study, Vučić’s ruling party and he himself command nearly 90% of all media coverage in Serbia​. Pro-government tabloids daily paint the world in Manichaean terms – praising “brotherly” allies who supposedly respect Serbia, and vilifying critics as enemies or traitors. The European Union, for instance, is schizophrenically covered: in English-language forums Vučić speaks of EU integration, but domestically his outlets often describe the EU as “the enemy of the Serbian people” and an antagonist to Serbian history and culture​. This propaganda strategy deliberately nurtures a sense of grievance towards the West, making the public more receptive to the leadership’s refusal to bow to outside demands.

Education and Historical Revisionism

Domestic politics also influence how history is taught, which in turn sustains the victimhood state identity. Studies of Serbian history textbooks find that recent curricula (post-2000) still present Serbs primarily as victims or noble warriors throughout the 20th century, while war crimes committed by Serbs are glossed over​. For example, the Yugoslav wars are often described in vague terms or with emphasis on Serb suffering (the exodus of Serbs from Croatia in 1995, NATO’s bombing in 1999) but only scant mention of the ethnic cleansing of Bosniaks or Croats by Serb forces. This selective history serves current political needs: it preserves national pride and shields the youth from guilt or shame about the recent past, thus preventing challenges to the nationalist narrative. However, it also means new generations may internalize ethnic prejudice and a readiness to defend Serbia’s honor militarily, having learned a one-sided story of the 1990s conflict.

Culture of Bellicosity and War Crime Apologia

The combined effect of these political and media dynamics is a society where bellicose rhetoric and war crime apologism find fertile ground. Mainstream Serbian political culture has largely failed to morally condemn Serb-perpetrated war crimes. Instead, convicted war criminals are often rehabilitated or celebrated as heroes who “protected the nation.” For instance, Bosnian Serb General Ratko Mladić – sentenced for genocide – is venerated by Serbian ultranationalists; in 2021, a large mural of Mladić appeared on a Belgrade wall and was guarded by hooded youths who repainted it whenever it was defaced​. Authorities showed “unwillingness or inability” to remove this tribute to a war criminal​, signaling tacit approval or fear of confronting the nationalist base. Similar treatment is given to other figures: streets or plaques bear the names of wartime leaders; nationalist politicians attend ceremonies honoring paramilitaries. All of this amounts to an apologia for past war crimes – a persistent justification or minimization of atrocities. It is often argued in Serbian media that Serbia only did what it had to do in the 1990s, or that others committed equal crimes. Government officials and much of the public refuse to label the Srebrenica massacre as “genocide,” preferring terms like “grave crime” and immediately mentioning Serb victim statistics in the same breath​​. This defensive reflex was noted by Sabrina Ramet: “to be a Serb was, in the Milošević era, to be a victim,” and this sense of victimhood gave many a feeling of righteousness that justified or excused the violence committed in the nation’s name. Even today, that mindset endures among a significant segment of society, continually reinforced by political discourse and media framing.

International Relations and External Behavior

Serbia’s dramaturgical victim identity not only shapes its domestic arena, but also its foreign relations and international image. Serbian diplomacy often operates with a chip on its shoulder, projecting narratives of historical grievance onto contemporary issues. A core example is the question of Kosovo. Ever since Kosovo (with its Albanian majority) declared independence in 2008, Serbia has campaigned globally to prevent its recognition. In doing so, Serbian officials invoke the sanctity of Serbian suffering: they emphasize the medieval heritage of Kosovo for Serbs, the destruction of Serbian churches there, and the expulsion of Serb civilians during and after the 1999 war. Belgrade’s insistence on its sovereign claim over Kosovo is bolstered by what Ramet calls a sense of self-righteous victimhood – Serbia feels entitled to “reinforce [its] feelings of self-righteousness in insisting on its sovereignty over…Kosovo” because it believes it was wronged by NATO and Kosovar secession​. In essence, “Kosovo was stolen from us while we were the victims of aggression,” goes the narrative. This outlook has made Serbia relatively intransigent in EU-facilitated negotiations, as any compromise is viewed domestically as another unjust humiliation imposed by outsiders.

Serbia’s broader relationship with the Western powers is heavily colored by the memory of the 1999 NATO air war. In Serbian public discourse and official statements, the NATO intervention is routinely termed the “NATO aggression.” Indeed, Serbia marks March 24 (the anniversary of the bombing campaign) each year with ceremonies mourning the victims and speeches condemning NATO. While NATO’s stated rationale was to halt the ethnic cleansing of Albanians in Kosovo, Serbian media and politicians continue to frame it as a wanton attack on a small sovereign nation​. Government narratives have, at times, inflated the number of Serbian civilian casualties from the bombing to strengthen this victim claim. Internationally, Serbian diplomats leverage this event to argue that Serbia has been a victim of Western double standards and unlawful force – a useful counterpoint when Western countries lecture Serbia on human rights or territorial integrity. The persistent emphasis on being a victim of NATO has contributed to lasting distrust of the West among the Serbian populace​, which in turn gives the Serbian state leeway to resist aligning with Western foreign policy. For example, even in 2022–2023, Serbia has been one of the only European countries refusing to join sanctions against Russia after the invasion of Ukraine. One reason is domestic sentiment: NATO’s 1999 actions (with many of the same Western countries involved) are seen as proof that the West cannot be morally superior to Russia. This allows Belgrade to justify neutrality (or even pro-Moscow leanings) as consistent with its national memory – Serbia knows what it’s like to be at the receiving end of Western bombs, so it won’t condemn Russia too harshly for bombing others.

The Serbia-Russia relationship is indeed instructive in understanding Serbia’s international posture. Culturally and historically, Russia has been cast as Serbia’s “big brother” protector – from pan-Slavic and Orthodox Christian kinship to Russia’s World War I intervention on Serbia’s behalf. In the victim narrative, when “evil, bloody Europeans” attacked Serbia, Orthodox Mother Russia was the only great power that consistently aided the Serbs. To this day, Serbian state media and officials cultivate almost mythic fraternity with Russia. This includes not only positive coverage of Russia, but also echoing Russian propaganda lines. For instance, Serbian tabloids often promote conspiracy theories about Western schemes to destroy Serbia, similar to Russian narratives about Western encirclement. Belgrade’s diplomatic stance at the UN frequently aligns with Moscow – whether it’s not voting for resolutions that call out Russian aggression, or highlighting Serbian victimhood in tandem with Russian critiques of NATO. The Serbian Orthodox Church and Serbia’s leaders also invoke a shared struggle: just as Serbia was bombed in 1999, they suggest, Russia is now allegedly a victim of Western aggression (a narrative Russia itself propagates). This convergence of victimhood tropes means Serbia often acts as a spoiler in Western Balkans geopolitics, to the frustration of the EU and US.

Regionally, Serbia’s relations with its neighbors remain burdened by the past and by Serbia’s refusal to shed its victim-centric viewpoint. Reconciliation with Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina is hampered by what many see as Belgrade’s lack of contrition. Croatia insists that Serbia acknowledge the reality of Serb aggression in the 90s (Vukovar’s destruction, ethnic cleansing in Croatia), while Serbia counters with reminders of Serb refugees and the WWII genocide of Serbs by Croats. In Bosnia, the Serbian-backed entity Republika Srpska (RS) has embraced an even more extreme version of the victim narrative. Milorad Dodik, the RS leader (and a close ally of Serbia), openly denies the Srebrenica genocide and claims Bosnian Serbs are the true victims of the Bosnian War. Citing “anti-Serb bias,” he has even threatened secession of RS from Bosnia​. Belgrade officially supports Bosnia’s integrity, but its media and diplomacy provide cover for Dodik’s revanchist stance. For instance, Serbia’s state television gives a platform to RS officials to broadcast their view that the international community unfairly punishes Serbs. Serbia’s own refusal to fully cooperate with war crimes justice in the past (delayed extraditions of accused, lenient sentences in domestic trials) further signals to Bosniak and Croat neighbors that Belgrade is not fully repudiating the crimes of the 90s. This perpetuates mutual distrust: Serbia perceives itself as isolated and misunderstood, while neighbors and Western observers see Serbia as revisionist and unrepentant.

Serbia’s victimhood-driven identity also manifests in international propaganda efforts. The Serbian government funds outreach that highlights Serb cultural achievements and wartime sacrifices, seeking to cast Serbia as a misunderstood nation that has “always been on the right side of history”. This includes emphasizing Serbia’s contributions to the Allied victory in WWII (to counterbalance the focus on Serb nationalist collaborationists), and pointing out Serbian victimization under the Nazis and Ustaše. Belgrade often reminds Europe that Serbs were among the first anti-fascist fighters (Tito’s Partisans were largely Serb in the early years) – implying that today’s Europe owes a debt of respect to Serbia. At the same time, officials bristle at criticism: when confronted with calls to recognize Kosovo or apologize for Srebrenica, they instinctively revert to defensive rhetoric (“why single out Serbs? all sides committed crimes; what about NATO’s crimes?”). This dynamic has stalled Serbia’s EU accession progress. EU diplomats note that Serbia’s internal politics – saturated with nationalist victimhood tropes – make it hard for Serbian leaders to take conciliatory steps required for integration, such as aligning with EU foreign policy or adjusting school narratives. Indeed, a significant portion of the Serbian public, influenced by years of propaganda, is “frustrated with the EU” and believes Europe disrespects Serbian identity​. In turn, Belgrade plays a double game: professing pro-European goals externally, while internally cultivating Euroskeptic, grievance-laden sentiments that keep the nation looking inward and backward.

Contemporary Implications

Serbia’s dramaturgical state identity centered on victimhood has far-reaching implications today, both domestically and internationally. Decades of nurturing this narrative have created a culture of impunity and stagnation that poses challenges to Serbia’s future and regional stability. Below are several key implications:

Impediments to Reconciliation and Justice

The persistent “we are the victims” mindset has made genuine reconciliation with neighbors painfully slow. To this day, Serbian officials and society at large struggle to atone for crimes committed on their behalf​. Apologies, when offered, are usually conditional or couched in vagueness. As a result, relations with Bosnia, Croatia, and Kosovo remain fraught. Trust is low because those countries see Serbia as unwilling to fully acknowledge its role as an aggressor. Meanwhile, inside Serbia, victims of other ethnicities receive little recognition – for example, there is scant education about the suffering of Bosniak civilians in the 1990s. This one-sided memory breeds resentment on all sides and leaves open wounds. As human rights activists often point out, Serbia’s transitional justice remains incomplete: many perpetrators live freely, denial is commonplace, and thus survivors in neighboring states feel that Serbia “got away with it.” This dynamic fuels nationalist currents on the other side as well (e.g., Croat and Bosniak nationalism), perpetuating a cycle of mutual distrust.

Domestic Authoritarianism and Nationalism

The victimhood narrative has been a tool for Serbia’s rulers to consolidate authoritarian power. By keeping the public in a siege mentality, focused on external threats and past glory, leaders divert attention from current governance issues. President Vučić’s regime has skillfully used this narrative to marginalize the opposition (branding critics as “traitors” doing the West’s bidding) and to justify curbs on media freedom (claiming unity is needed in the face of foreign conspiracies)​. The culture of bellicosity – a pride in toughness and defiance – also sustains far-right groups domestically, who are emboldened by the state’s indulgence of their hero-worship of wartime figures. This makes Serbia’s political scene inherently unstable: extremist ideologies lurk not far from the mainstream. It also means that any leader who might wish to adopt a more conciliatory, democratic direction has to contend with a populace primed to view compromise as betrayal. In effect, the myth of perpetual victimhood locks Serbia into a nationalist posture, because abandoning it would undercut the very legitimacy on which many politicians rely.

Foreign Policy Balancing and East-West Tensions

In international affairs, Serbia’s victim identity leads it to pursue a delicate but problematic balancing act. On one hand, Serbia maintains aspirations to join the European Union; on the other, it refuses to distance itself from Russia or fully embrace Western narratives. The result is a kind of strategic ambiguity: Serbia seeks aid and investment from all sides (EU, China, Russia, Turkey) while committing firmly to none. While this might secure short-term benefits, it limits long-term progress. The EU has grown weary of Serbia’s ambivalent diplomacy, which often involves embracing illiberal partners. Serbia’s portrayal of itself as a besieged little country can also be a geopolitical destabilizer – for example, Serbian media’s constant drumbeat about Serbs being mistreated in Kosovo or Bosnia can incite tensions that require international intervention. There is a risk that if Serbian leaders feel cornered or if nationalist sentiment boils over, Belgrade could take steps (like tacitly encouraging secession in Bosnia, or a hardline move in northern Kosovo) that trigger a wider crisis. Thus, Serbia’s unresolved national narrative is not just its own problem; it is a flashpoint for the Western Balkans. NATO and EU forces still stationed in places like Kosovo exist precisely because narratives of victimhood and revenge could, if unchecked, spark violence anew.

Cultural and Generational Impact

The continued glorification of a victim-hero identity affects Serbian society at the cultural and generational level. Young Serbians today inherit a worldview filtered through nationalist media and education. Many have minimal exposure to alternative perspectives on the 1990s wars. This curation of memory means that prejudices and mistrust are passed down. As polls cited in 2013 showed, only a small minority (around 12%) of Serbs in Serbia believed that Serbs and Albanians could live together peacefully in Kosovo, whereas a much higher percentage of Kosovar Albanians were open to coexistence​. Such findings reflect how deep the narrative of “Serbs were wronged by Albanians” has penetrated the Serbian public, fostering pessimism and reluctance to reconcile. On the positive side, there is a segment of Serbian civil society actively challenging the victimizational dogma – human rights NGOs, independent journalists, and a handful of academics strive to debunk wartime myths and promote empathy for all victims. These efforts, however, often meet fierce backlash (including threats and accusations of being “foreign agents”), indicating that the dominant culture is still not ready to fully confront its past. Until Serbia undergoes a more profound reckoning with historical truths – akin to de-Nazification or transitional justice processes elsewhere – the culture of denial and self-pity will continue to hamper its moral and intellectual growth.

EU Integration and Modern Identity

Finally, Serbia’s identity crisis has tangible implications for its integration into modern European structures. The EU places importance not only on reforms but on values alignment – including coming to terms with history. Countries like Germany have, for instance, had to acknowledge past atrocities as part of their rehabilitation in the international community. Serbia’s hesitance to do the same keeps it at arm’s length. Moreover, by clinging to the role of victim, Serbia sometimes misses opportunities to transform into a role of a proactive contributor. A nation cannot indefinitely play the part of Hamlet on the world stage – trapped in self-indulgent soliloquy of grief – if it wants to move forward. There are signs (especially among younger, urban Serbs and the diaspora) of fatigue with the old narratives and a desire for a more optimistic, responsible Serbian identity. However, these more progressive currents struggle against the inertia of state-sponsored mythology.

Serbia’s Fracture Index: A Structural Risk Assessment

To complement the narrative and historical analysis above, Prime Rogue Inc. applies its 10-dimension Fractured States Diagnostic Framework to Serbia. This model quantifies the extent and entrenchment of identity-based fault lines that structurally predispose a state to authoritarianism, denialism, or conflict.

Each axis below is scored from 0 (absent) to 3 (deeply institutionalized) based on observable behaviors, public discourse, institutional practice, and narrative control.

These scores confirm what the historical analysis has already revealed: Serbia is not merely vulnerable to fracture — it is structurally built around it. Its national mythos centers on grievance; its political system relies on narrative control; and its historical traumas are not reconciled but revived.

In particular, three dimensions score at the highest risk level (3/3):

• Victimhood as National Doctrine: The Kosovo myth, NATO bombing, and layered WWII memory collectively shape Serbia’s identity as a righteous sufferer.
• Generational Indoctrination: Textbooks, media, and political messaging systematically embed this victimhood narrative in youth identity formation.
• Narrative Control Infrastructure: Under Aleksandar Vučić’s regime, media control is near total. Alternative historical narratives are marginalized, and EU/Western critics are reframed as existential threats.

These embedded fractures render Serbia resistant to reconciliation — both with its neighbors and with its own past. As such, Serbia should be treated not as a post-conflict recovery case, but as an active narrative-based threat vector in the Western Balkans, with potential for escalation in Kosovo, Bosnia, and EU accession negotiations.

Conclusion

Ultimately, Serbia’s dramaturgical state identity – with its emphasis on victimhood, defiance, and revisionist memory – is a double-edged sword. On one edge, it has provided Serbs a sense of unity and purpose amid turbulent history, and a narrative to cope with the traumas the nation has endured. On the other, it has fed a “culture of bellicosity” and an apologetic stance toward past violence that isolates Serbia and endangers future peace. As one commentator succinctly put it, the Serbian national psyche has been so steeped in “epic victimhood” that it “explains why Serbs struggle to atone for the crimes…committed on their behalf.” Breaking free of this cycle will require courageous political leadership, honest public dialogue, and educational overhaul – steps that would allow Serbia to honor its very real historical sufferings without being imprisoned by them. Only by shedding the perpetual victim identity can Serbia fully normalize relations with its neighbors, embrace democratic values, and secure its place in the family of European nations, rather than standing apart, consumed by the shadows of its own past.