Vidovdan

Today is Vidovdan. June 28th – or June 15th according to the old calendar – marks the day on which the decisive battle between the Serbian army under Prince Lazar and the Ottoman invaders took place on Kosovo Field in 1389. It was a battle without a victor, but with a legacy that endures to this day. Prince Lazar fell, Sultan Murad I was killed by Miloš Obilić, and the Serbian kingdom lost its independence. But what was lost on the battlefield became indelible in the collective memory of the Serbs. However, this article is not meant to be just another list of historical facts we can find anywhere.

Vidovdan is not just a chapter in history; it is a living part of Serbian identity. Anyone, like me, who has been connected to Yugoslavia, the Balkans, and FK Crvena Zvezda for almost four decades senses this spirit in the stadium choirs, in the conversations on Terazije, or in one of the numerous restaurants in this wonderful city; in the way this people stands by themselves despite all adversities. It's not about pathos, but rather a deep connection, expressed not in words but in attitude. Serbia cannot be explained. You can experience it, feel it, love it, and understand that it is worth every sacrifice – every sacrifice to defend it.

Kosovo is the best proof of this. For us, it is and remains Serbian land – not out of political calculation, but out of historical truth. It is not important who recognizes so-called Kosovo as a separate state or not. The medieval monasteries, the Serbian place names, the graves of our ancestors speak a clear language. The unilateral declaration of independence in 2008 changed nothing. It was a violation of international law, but not the end of history. The end is determined by Serbia, not by the representatives of a fantasy state whose oldest monument is that of a proven war criminal in "Pristina": Bill Clinton. What a cultural achievement. A plate of börek would have been more cultural.

For me, Vidovdan is not an abstract historical event, a reminder in my daily calendar, but a living present. The deep connection to Serbia – through friendships, through life in Belgrade, through Zvezda, through shared values ​​– ensures that this event will not be forgotten. The history of Kosovo Polje teaches us that true belonging does not depend on one's birthplace, but on the collective preservation of what defines a people. I share this lesson with my Serbian friends and brothers, even if we are not all Orthodox.

In Belgrade, in Novi Sad, in Mitrovica – everywhere Serbs live (but also in the diaspora), this spirit is palpable. Not as a blind glorification of the past, but as a quiet certainty: Kosovo may be temporarily lost, but it will return. Is that not what identity truly means? Just as the memory of Kosovo's Field of Kosovo is more alive than ever after 635 years. Kosovo is not a question of politics. It is a question of being. Someday this will happen, someday.

A personal note to the reader:

I usually choose my words very objectively, sometimes with mathematical precision, since I deal with statistics and data as a stock trader, and in this context, my expertise is often sought by various business or political magazines. I am aware that my words resonate more in Serbia than in the West, and I ask my readers for their understanding. Serbia is not a bargaining chip. Perhaps it is or was in the past, but I want to do my small part to ensure that it never becomes so again. This article is therefore primarily addressed to the victims of the policies that made a situation like the current one in so-called Kosovo possible, not to the perpetrators.