On March 4, 2025, Serbia’s National Assembly descended into chaos. Opposition lawmakers hurled smoke bombs and flares into the parliamentary chamber, sparking violent confrontations and injuries among representatives. While shocking to the many, this spectacle is merely another manifestation of what we must understand as Serbia’s overarching social simulation: a carefully orchestrated illusion of political activity, in which both the ruling party and its so-called opposition act out predictable roles to pacify genuine political discontent and maintain entrenched power dynamics. 

This incident arose amid rising anti-corruption protests triggered by a devastating railway accident in Novi Sad, in which fifteen lives were tragically lost. Opposition MPs wanted the agenda amended but their proposal was rejected. Their dramatic response—igniting smoke bombs and flares—was intended as a radical disruption, an act of political urgency. Yet, beneath the surface drama, we find a deep-seated irony. Far from representing genuine rebellion or meaningful resistance, this performance remains comfortably contained within the bounds set by the very political establishment it purportedly challenges. 

To grasp the depth of this incident and its implications, it is necessary first to articulate clearly what is meant by the concept of a social simulation. Rather than a conspiracy theory, a social simulation is a complex political reality structured to produce the illusion of democratic struggle, of opposition, and even resistance—while systematically undermining any potential for actual systemic change. Within this simulation, public anger and dissatisfaction are consistently redirected toward superficial, performative actions, carefully designed to prevent real disruption to established power structures. 

First, we have managed dissent. Political parties, civil activists, and even student groups are allowed—indeed, encouraged—to express discontent, but only within narrowly defined parameters. Peaceful marches, symbolic gestures, and theatrical parliamentary antics are permitted precisely because they pose no real threat. The Serbian Progressive Party (SNS), led by Aleksandar Vučić, understands this fully. They rely on the opposition’s predictable use of symbolic tactics—smoke bombs, paint splashes, dramatic but empty gestures—which effectively prevent genuine political transformation by exhausting public energy and interest. 

Second, we see media choreography. The media apparatus—both government-controlled and so-called independent opposition channels—dutifully amplifies these orchestrated events. The opposition-leaning media appear critical on the surface, but this criticism remains focused on superficial moral outrage or trivial points of political decorum, rather than fundamentally questioning structural, economic, or systemic issues. Media portrayals consistently frame violent or aggressive protestors as "provocateurs" or government infiltrators, further enforcing the boundary of acceptable dissent. Thus, the media itself becomes an essential element of maintaining the simulation, subtly steering public perception back into manageable narratives. 

Third, and perhaps most crucially, this simulation guarantees the perpetuation of the status quo. While political theatrics, scandals, and even violence may periodically erupt, they are quickly folded back into a narrative that ensures no fundamental change occurs. Opposition actors gain visibility and symbolic victories, and the government emerges appearing stable, responsive, and democratically legitimate—even strengthened by the contrast against such “irresponsible” displays. Thus, each supposed crisis merely fortifies the system rather than threatening it. 

The National Assembly incident exposes the fundamental contradiction within Serbia’s parliamentary opposition. Although their rhetoric claims radical opposition to the regime, their actual political strategy remains timid and carefully controlled. Their protests, dramatic though they appear, are never designed to seriously challenge the foundations of the neoliberal economic and political system that benefits both the ruling elite and many within the official opposition itself. 

In fact, opposition tactics—symbolic disruptions, smoke bombs, flares, and fiery speeches—actively serve to channel public frustration into a performative, easily manageable spectacle. These acts, predictably condemned as violent, allow the government to reinforce its narrative of order against chaos, further legitimizing state authority and control. Thus, paradoxically, the very acts intended as opposition reinforce the power of the regime. 

Serbian citizens, whether consciously or not, become complicit spectators in this ongoing political theatre. Anger at corruption, economic stagnation, and social injustice is real and legitimate. Yet this anger is persistently channeled into performative politics, where genuine outrage is neutralized by symbolic actions and media narratives designed precisely to deflect serious systemic critique. Each outburst, protest, and parliamentary scandal momentarily energizes the public imagination, only to end in frustration and apathy, reinforcing the sense of futility in genuine political action. 

However, there remains hope in breaking out of this simulated reality. What Serbia requires, urgently and unmistakably, is the emergence of a political subject that refuses to participate in scripted dramas—a subject that understands that true change will not come from symbolic protests but from deliberate and systematic confrontation with underlying structural issues. Genuine political engagement will necessarily be disruptive, unsettling, and difficult to integrate into established political narratives. It will involve uncomfortable questions about Serbia’s economic subservience to foreign capital, about labor exploitation masked as economic reform, and about privatization masquerading as modernization. It must acknowledge and expose the simulation for what it is—a carefully managed system of controlled dissent designed precisely to prevent real change. 

The recent student protests offer a glimpse of this potential. These protests, distinct from parliamentary theatrics, articulate a clear, critical vision against Serbia's trajectory, directly confronting the structural inequalities perpetuated by the current order. Their actions have moved beyond symbolic gestures, aiming instead to disrupt the very logic of governance. 

This is precisely the form of dissent the regime fears most—not because it might ignite smoke bombs, but because it could ignite genuine, systemic change. The students’ rejection of the established narratives is a critical step forward, providing a model for how political activism might escape the constraints of Serbia’s deeply entrenched simulation. 

The events in Serbia's National Assembly are neither unique nor unprecedented. Rather, they represent another cycle in Serbia’s long-standing political simulation, serving ultimately to reinforce the order that profits the few at the expense of the many. The path out of this endless loop begins with rejecting the roles imposed by both the ruling elites and their complicit opposition. 

True political transformation requires abandoning the theatrical gestures, refusing the role of passive audience or controlled opposition, and adopting a clear, ideologically informed stance that addresses the systemic structures of power. Serbia stands at a crossroads: continue to accept the comforting but meaningless spectacle of simulated democracy, or take the more difficult road of genuinely confronting the structures that sustain inequality, corruption, and elite rule. 

Only by recognizing the depth and purpose of this social simulation—and choosing deliberately to break from it—can the nation reclaim genuine democratic possibilities. Until then, incidents like the National Assembly brawl will remain just that—dramatic, disturbing, and ultimately inconsequential episodes in an ongoing political performance.