When Serbian President Aleksandar Vučić arrived in Odessa on June 10, it was not just a visit. It was a political and moral step rarely seen in today’s world—an act that carries weight despite the avalanche of pressure, condemnations, and threats coming from the other side of Europe. At a time when many are silent, weighing in, or retreating in the face of Moscow’s aggressive narrative, Vučić decided to be present, to be visible, and to choose a side—the side of the victim, not the aggressor.

Vučić’s visit to Ukraine, the first since Russia’s brutal invasion began in 2022, comes at a time when the Kremlin is increasing pressure on all states that maintain even the slightest contact with Kyiv, which it considers its zone of interest. In recent weeks, the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service (SVR) released a statement directly accusing the Serbian president of “betraying fraternal Slavic peoples” and supplying Ukraine with ammunition and weapons. During Vučić’s visit to Odessa, Russian Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova said from the highest state level, “The countries traveling to Odessa should ask themselves whose side they are on.”

The answer is clear. Serbia is on the side of those who defend their homeland, their people, and their right to exist. And this answer has a political price.

In today’s world full of ambiguity, Vučić’s decision to personally attend the “Ukraine-South East Europe” summit is a turning point. Serbia is thus sending a signal that it will not be blackmailed, that it will not agree to false fraternization based on domination and subjugation. Vučić comes from a country that is at a crossroads: between historical closeness to Russia and a clear European orientation, which Serbian citizens have repeatedly confirmed in elections.

In this case, Odessa is also a symbolic city. Odessa embodies both a city moment and a city message. By his presence alone, the Serbian president has reaffirmed Ukraine’s territorial integrity and solidarity with its people. This support is not given because it is expected or easy, but rather because it is the right thing to do.

The information about what President Vučić offered during the meeting with President Zelenskyy—that Serbia would rebuild (fully or partially) two Ukrainian cities or a smaller region destroyed by the war—leaves a particularly strong impression. This offer is not a protocolar phrase. It is a concrete, humane, and politically responsible initiative that sends a clear message: Serbia will not remain neutral when it comes to human suffering. This offer has the potential to become a symbol of a new phase in relations between the two countries, but also clear proof that Belgrade can and wants to contribute to peace, reconstruction, and solidarity in Europe.

At a time when many talk big, the act of concrete help has enormous moral value. Serbia, a country that has gone through suffering, destruction, and humiliation, knows how much it means when someone offers a helping hand. And that is why this offer should be received with gratitude and be the beginning of a broader partnership based not on interests but on values.

And while the Ukrainian public saw the Serbian president’s visit as a sign of courage and future rapprochement, Vučić is facing a familiar, but now stronger, front of resistance in Serbia. Protests throughout Serbia, especially after the tragedy in Novi Sad, have exacerbated the political environment and increased the need for a foreign policy balance. Despite the opposition’s declarative messages that Serbia must be pro-European, a large part of society, as well as the opposition itself, is still under the strong influence of Russian narratives, which are fueled daily by para-state and pro-Russian media in Serbia. Certain actors of the so-called pro-European opposition publicly question “who authorized Vučić to offer help for the reconstruction of Ukrainian cities,” as if solidarity and moral responsibility require administrative validation. This criticism is consciously or unconsciously wrapped up in the same narrative that has been coming from Moscow for years—the one in which Serbia must remain passive, neutral, and in the past.

But the real storm comes from outside. The Russian news apparatus reacted immediately. A network of portals and Telegram channels close to the Kremlin have already launched an orchestrated discrediting campaign on social media. Vučić is portrayed as a traitor, as a man who “sells Serbian friendship for cheap points in Brussels.” The Kremlin does not tolerate disobedience, especially when it comes from a country it considers its historical area.

Maria Zakharova’s statement represents not only open political pressure but also unacceptable interference in the internal affairs of a sovereign state. Her statement that the countries that “go to Odessa should ask themselves whose side they are on” inevitably recalls the vocabulary of an era when Moscow was considered as the center of the world and all others as satellites. Serbia is the province of no one. It owes allegiance to no one but its own citizens and its own principles. And these principles include neither silence in the face of aggression nor submission to external political coercion.

Zakharova’s message, full of historical revisionism, accusations, and ideological fanaticism, cannot be interpreted as anything apart from an attempt to discipline a Balkan state that has shown signs of acting independently. This is not diplomacy; this is political punishment. And Serbia should not remain silent, even if the blows were verbal (for the time being).

This is precisely why this situation goes beyond the boundaries of a bilateral meeting. Vučić’s visit to Ukraine became a test for the West. If Serbia and its president stand alone against the Russian political and intelligence machinery, it is not only a message to Belgrade but also to all other countries trying to take a step out of the Russian sphere of influence—that they will be left to their own devices.

That is why it is critical that the United States, the European Union, and their allies provide explicit, unequivocal, and operational support to President Vučić and the citizens of Serbia. This includes security cooperation, intelligence sharing, and economic assistance, but also political protection. Because the Kremlin will not accept such steps from Belgrade. They will try to weaken, delegitimize, and even overthrow Vučić—using all methods of hybrid warfare, including destabilization on the media, economic pressure, and strong infiltration into Serbia’s security structures. If they fail at the institutional level, they will try it on the streets by instrumentalizing protests and violent incidents even more intensively. Their goal is clear: to bring Serbia back under their control, even if it means chaos.

Ukraine and Serbia have different paths but similar struggles. Both countries are confronted with external pressures, internal weaknesses, and the need to define themselves in a world where there is no more room for vague positions. In this context, Vučić’s visit to Odessa is not just a political gesture. It is an emotional bridge, it is a metaphor of resistance, and it is a silent but strong message that Serbia sees what is happening and that it is not blind to injustice.
President Vučić chose a side in Odessa. And it was not the side of violence, but the side of justice
. It was not a populist move but a strategic step forward. At a time when many remain silent, Belgrade has spoken. And let this sentence be remembered.