English version below
Autorka: Ana Martinoli
Koga zove, kada je ugrožen i napadnut, onaj koga svi zovemo kada smo ugroženi i napadnuti?
Često razmišljam o tome ovih dana, gledajući stravičnu kampanju targetiranja Verana Matića na režimskim platformama. Jer Veran je prva osoba koju većina nas koji radimo (ne samo) u medijima, prvog pozove kada naša imena osvanu u tabloidnim medijima, kao deo neprekidne, bezočne, beskompromisne hajke na svaku kritičku misao, disonantni glas i otpor.
Današnja kampanja protiv Verana nije samo lično uznemirujuća, ona je društveno opasna. Targetiranje nije kritika. Targetiranje je metod. Ono služi da pošalje poruku: „Ako možemo ovako s njim, možemo sa svima“. Poruka je da nema bezbednih, nema sigurnosti, svako može biti „meta“. Zbog toga je važno da sada mi stanemo uz Verana i jasno imenujemo ono što mu se dešava, pre nego što se to normalizuje i zatrpa.
Osamnaest godina sam radila na radiju B92. To je bio životni period u kome su mi se profesionalni refleksi, etičke koordinate i osećaj odgovornosti prema istini, pravdi i građanskom društvu ugradili u način na koji razmišljam, radim i govorim. I ostali su tu zauvek. Za to je najzaslužniji moj urednik i direktor na radiju B92, Veran Matić. Zato imam potrebu da napišem nešto lično, a što će, želim da verujem, biti rečenice i misli mnogih novinara i novinarki, medijskih radnika, lokalnih medija, nevladinih organizacija. Želim da stanem uz čoveka koji je tri decenije stajao uz istinu, pravdu, borbu protiv rata, mržnje i razaranja – onda kada je to bilo najteže i najopasnije.
Veranov rad teško se može obuhvatiti standardnom biografijom. Ali, sve njegove profesionalne i društvene aktivnosti, vidljive i one javnosti nevidljive, pokazuju ključnu vrednost njegovog rada – kontinuitet. Od osnivanja radija B92, 1989. godine, kroz ratove, represiju, zabrane, političke lomove i tehnološke promene, linija njegovog delovanja ostala je ista – sloboda medija, sloboda govora i bezbednost novinara nisu kategorije o kojima se pregovara. Radio B92 nije bio samo redakcija. Bio je škola profesionalizma i novinarske etike u uslovima u kojima su upravo te vrednosti najčešće značile lični rizik. Radeći sa Veranom naučila sam da se urednička odgovornost ne meri velikim rečima, već svakodnevnim, teškim odlukama: šta objaviti, kako zaštititi izvor, kako zaštititi reportera, kako reagovati na pritisak, pretnju ili „poruku“. Veran je od početka razumeo da sloboda medija nije romantična ideja, nedostižni ideal, već stvaranje čvrste infrastrukture – ljudske, tehničke, organizacione, produkcione, vrednosne. Sloboda medija je zapravo složen, kompleksan sistem procedura, standarda, međusobne solidarnosti, nepokolebljivosti, istrajnosti i brige. To se spolja često ne vidi. Ali se vidi veoma jasno kada nestane.
Veran nam je stvorio siguran prostor da se borimo, mislimo i budemo glasni. Iskustvo neprekidne ugroženosti, od fizičke do profesionalne, nije proizvelo cinizam ili ogorčenost, već dodatnu odgovornost. Stvorilo nam je svest da sloboda medija nikada nije trajno osvojena i da se mora iznova braniti, posebno u Srbiji – nekadašnjoj i današnjoj. I da za to uvek ima mnogo načina
Devedesete godine su bile period u kome je radio B92 bio i zabranjivan, i utišavan, ali nikada nije ućutkan. Kao i Veran. Bio je privođen, saslušavan, hapšen, ali nikada nije odustao. Čak i kada je radio bio isključen iz etra, glas se nalazio – preko interneta, preko međunarodnih mreža solidarnosti, preko ljudi koji su verovali da javnost ima pravo da zna. Najveći deo tih aktivnosti bile su rezultat Veranove vizije i kapaciteta da razmišlja nekoliko koraka unapred, ali i svih saradnika, od informativne preko muzičke do redakcije za kulturu. Svako je ima slobodu i prostor da razmišlja progresivno, da eksperimentiše i da stvori nove prilike u kojima će glas i vrednosti radija B92 biti glasnije i dalekosežnije. Veran nam je stvorio siguran prostor da se borimo, mislimo i budemo glasni. Iskustvo neprekidne ugroženosti, od fizičke do profesionalne, nije proizvelo cinizam ili ogorčenost, već dodatnu odgovornost. Stvorilo nam je svest da sloboda medija nikada nije trajno osvojena i da se mora iznova braniti, posebno u Srbiji – nekadašnjoj i današnjoj. I da za to uvek ima mnogo načina.
Veranov rad nikada nije bio ograničen samo na jednu redakciju. Njegov angažman u zaštiti novinara, u borbi protiv nekažnjivosti napada i ubistava, u izgradnji institucionalnih mehanizama podrške profesiji, traje decenijama. Osnivanje Komisije za istraživanje ubistava novinara bio je jedan od najvažnijih i najtežih koraka u tom pravcu. Upravo ta Komisija je jedna od glavnih tačaka napada na Verana, osporavanja, omalovažavanja i negiranja. Kritike su uvek iste – institucionalni okvir te Komisije automatski poništava njenu svrhu. Ali, pitanje je samo jedno. Da li je postojala osoba spremna za takvu vrstu angažmana, koja je doslednije, hrabrije i beskompromisnije branila novinare i novinarke i razumela probleme, prepreke i izazove sa kojima se suočavaju na dnevnom nivou u Srbiji Aleksandra Vučića? Ne teorijski, ne deklarativno, već kroz podršku i pomoć u konkretnim slučajevima. Osoba spremna na upornost, pritiske, sukobe, neprekidno osporavanje i ličnu izloženost.
Ne pišem ovaj tekst da bih idealizovala Verana Matića. Pišem ga jer znam da razlikujem kritiku od linča, dijalog od hajke, javnu odgovornost od organizovanog ugrožavanja. Pišem ga jer znam koliko je puta u ovoj zemlji ćutanje bilo skuplje od govora
Za kritičare, Komisija je bila čin političke lojalnosti. Za mene, ona je bila hrabar pokušaj da se probije zid ćutanja i nekažnjivosti koji je decenijama stajao oko ubistava novinara. To nije mogao da bude ni lak, ni „čist“ posao. To je bio posao ulaska u najtvrđe strukture sistema, sa jasnom svešću o ograničenjima, opstrukcijama i rizicima. Kritika tog pokušaja je legitimna tema za diskusiju. Ali, diskvalifikacija čoveka koji je decenijama insistirao na istini, pravdi i bezbednosti novinara – nije. Veran je duže od tri decenije gradio mreže profesionalne solidarnosti: kroz novinarska udruženja, kroz uspostavljanje mehanizama za prijavu pretnji i trenutnu reakciju, kroz direktnu komunikaciju sa redakcijama i pojedincima koji su se našli pod pritiskom, kroz sastanke sa nadležnim organima, pritiscima na institucije, garantovanjem sigurnosti kroz lične kontakte sa policijom kada sistemski mehanizmi nisu funkcionisali.
Sve to je omogućilo nešto jednostavno, ali ključno: kada novinar dobije pretnju, kada mu se objavi adresa, kada se nađe na meti, nije sam. Postoji neko razume kontekst, neko zna kako sistem funkcioniše, neko je spreman da stane ispred ili pored njega.
Veran je proteklih decenija pokazao da zaštita novinara, da bi bila efikasna, ne može biti teorijska vežba, već svakodnevna, mukotrpna, često nevidljiva praksa.
Ne pišem ovaj tekst da bih idealizovala Verana Matića. Pišem ga jer znam da razlikujem kritiku od linča, dijalog od hajke, javnu odgovornost od organizovanog ugrožavanja. Pišem ga jer znam koliko je puta u ovoj zemlji ćutanje bilo skuplje od govora.
Napadi na Verana Matića, ovako svirepi i beskrupulozni, nisu samo napad na jednog čoveka. Oni su napad na samu ideju da novinarstvo u Srbiji ima pravo da bude slobodno, odgovorno i zaštićeno
Moja podrška Veranu danas je podrška jednostavnoj, bazičnoj, ali fatalno ugroženoj ideji: da novinar ne sme da bude lovina, da urednik ne sme da bude meta i da sigurnost novinara nije privilegija, već minimum svakog društva koje sebe naziva demokratskim.
Zato ovo pišem sada. Ne iz nostalgije, već iz profesionalnog i ljudskog uverenja. Napadi na Verana Matića, ovako svirepi i beskrupulozni, nisu samo napad na jednog čoveka. Oni su napad na samu ideju da novinarstvo u Srbiji ima pravo da bude slobodno, odgovorno i zaštićeno.
Konačno, pišem ovaj tekst i zato što želim da onaj koga prvog pozovemo kada smo ugroženi i napadnuti zna da nije sam. Da i on, kada je ugrožen i napadnut, ima koga da pozove da stane ispred i pored njega.
Tekst je prenet sa potala Radar.
Who does call the one whom we all call?
My support for Veran today is support for a simple, fundamental, yet fatally endangered idea: that a journalist must never be prey, that an editor must never be a target, and that journalists’ safety is not a privilege, but the minimum standard of any society that calls itself democratic.
Author: Ana Martinoli
Whom does the person we all call turn to when he himself is threatened and attacked?
I have been thinking about this a lot lately, watching the terrifying campaign of targeting Veran Matić on pro-regime platforms. Because Veran is the first person most of us who work (not only) in the media call when our names appear in tabloid outlets, as part of an incessant, shameless, uncompromising witch hunt against every critical thought, dissonant voice, and form of resistance.
The current campaign against Veran is not only personally disturbing—it is socially dangerous. Targeting is not criticism. Targeting is a method. Its purpose is to send a message: “If we can do this to him, we can do it to anyone.” The message is that no one is safe, there is no security, anyone can become a “target.” That is why it is important that we stand with Veran now and clearly name what is happening to him, before it becomes normalized and buried.
I worked at Radio B92 for eighteen years. It was a period of my life during which my professional reflexes, ethical coordinates, and sense of responsibility toward truth, justice, and civil society were embedded in the way I think, work, and speak. And they have remained there permanently. The person most responsible for this is my editor and director at Radio B92, Veran Matić. That is why I feel the need to write something personal—something I hope will reflect the thoughts and sentiments of many journalists, media workers, local media outlets, and civil society organizations. I want to stand with the man who stood for three decades on the side of truth, justice, and the fight against war, hatred, and destruction—when doing so was the hardest and most dangerous.
Veran’s work is difficult to capture within a standard biography. But all of his professional and social activities, both visible and invisible to the public, reveal the key value of his work: continuity. From the founding of Radio B92 in 1989, through wars, repression, bans, political upheavals, and technological changes, the core line of his work has remained the same—media freedom, freedom of expression, and the safety of journalists are not negotiable categories. Radio B92 was not just a newsroom. It was a school of professionalism and journalistic ethics in conditions where those very values often meant personal risk. Working with Veran taught me that editorial responsibility is not measured by grand words, but by daily, difficult decisions: what to publish, how to protect a source, how to protect a reporter, how to respond to pressure, threats, or “messages”. From the very beginning, Veran understood that media freedom is not a romantic idea or an unattainable ideal, but the creation of solid infrastructure—human, technical, organizational, production, and value-based. Media freedom is, in fact, a complex system of procedures, standards, mutual solidarity, steadfastness, perseverance, and care. This is often invisible from the outside. But it becomes painfully clear when it disappears.
The 1990s were a period when Radio B92 was banned and silenced—but never muted. Just like Veran himself. He was detained, interrogated, arrested, but he never gave up. Even when the radio station was taken off the air, the voice found its way—through the internet, through international networks of solidarity, through people who believed that the public had the right to know. Most of these efforts were the result of Veran’s vision and his ability to think several steps ahead, as well as the collective work of all collaborators, from news to music and culture. Everyone had the freedom and space to think progressively, to experiment, and to create new opportunities in which the voice and values of Radio B92 could be louder and reach further.
Veran created a safe space for us to fight, think, and speak loudly. The experience of constant endangerment—physical and professional—did not produce cynicism or bitterness, but a heightened sense of responsibility. It instilled in us the awareness that media freedom is never permanently won and must be defended again and again, especially in Serbia—past and present. And that there are always many ways to do so.
Veran’s work was never confined to a single newsroom. His engagement in protecting journalists, fighting impunity for attacks and murders, and building institutional mechanisms of support for the profession has lasted for decades. The establishment of the Commission for the Investigation of Murders of Journalists was one of the most important and most difficult steps in that direction. It is precisely this Commission that has become one of the main targets of attacks on Veran—of discrediting, belittlement, and denial. The criticisms are always the same: that the institutional framework of the Commission automatically invalidates its purpose. But the question is only one: was there anyone else prepared for such engagement, who defended journalists more consistently, courageously, and uncompromisingly, and who understood the daily problems, obstacles, and challenges journalists face in Serbia under Aleksandar Vučić—not theoretically or declaratively, but through concrete support and assistance? Someone prepared for persistence, pressure, conflict, constant challenge, and personal exposure.
For critics, the Commission was an act of political loyalty. For me, it was a courageous attempt to break through the wall of silence and impunity that had surrounded the murders of journalists for decades. This could never have been an easy or “clean” job. It meant entering the hardest structures of the system, with full awareness of its limitations, obstructions, and risks. Criticism of that attempt is a legitimate topic for debate. But disqualifying a man who has insisted on truth, justice, and journalists’ safety for decades is not. For more than thirty years, Veran has built networks of professional solidarity: through journalists’ associations, through mechanisms for reporting threats and ensuring immediate response, through direct communication with newsrooms and individuals under pressure, through meetings with authorities, pressure on institutions, and guaranteeing safety through personal contacts with the police when systemic mechanisms failed.
All of this enabled something simple but crucial: when a journalist receives a threat, when their address is published, when they become a target, they are not alone. There is someone who understands the context, someone who knows how the system works, someone ready to stand in front of them or beside them.
Over the past decades, Veran has shown that protecting journalists, to be effective, cannot be a theoretical exercise, but must be a daily, arduous, often invisible practice.
I am not writing this text to idealize Veran Matić. I am writing it because I know how to distinguish criticism from lynching, dialogue from a witch hunt, public accountability from organized endangerment. I am writing it because I know how many times in this country silence has been more costly than speech.
My support for Veran today is support for a simple, fundamental, yet fatally endangered idea: that a journalist must never be prey, that an editor must never be a target, and that journalists’ safety is not a privilege, but the minimum standard of any society that calls itself democratic.
That is why I am writing this now—not out of nostalgia, but out of professional and human conviction. The attacks on Veran Matić, so brutal and unscrupulous, are not merely an attack on one man. They are an attack on the very idea that journalism in Serbia has the right to be free, responsible, and protected.
Finally, I am writing this so that the person we all call first when we are threatened and attacked knows that he is not alone—that when he himself is threatened and attacked, he too has someone to call who will stand in front of him and beside him.
Source: Radar
