The following is an original article by N1 Belgrade director Igor Bozic for the weekly Vreme:
The last news bulletin without emotion
It’s Saturday, noon. The first news on Al Jazeera Balkans from Sarajevo. Everything flows as usual. News about attacks in Gaza, followed by war reports from Ukraine, then the situation on the streets of Serbia due to blockades, a story on why there is no water in Vrdnik, and the sign-off. “This was our last news bulletin, after 14 years. We gave a voice to those who had nowhere else to be heard,” says the perfectly dressed anchor, the camera pans to the spotlights, and the lights go out. The last news ends without drama, in line with its fourteen-year editorial policy. On AJB, you could hear and see all the news, always from a distance, without a personal stamp, without emotion. Almost never did it deviate from its format due to breaking events, but for those who wanted information, AJB was a place where they could always see the most important stories from the region.
The news of the shutdown came suddenly and was a real surprise. No one expected that the global network from Qatar would shut down a project it had funded for nearly a decade and a half. The explanation that it was financially unsustainable doesn’t seem entirely convincing, since such news channel projects aren’t meant to be profitable. One should not forget that Al Jazeera had an experiment in the U.S., when after investing a billion dollars, it shut down the network there after just one year. That move made sense, since the Qatari owners realised Americans simply refused to get information from a channel originating in the Middle East, no matter that they were seeing experienced American journalists on screen. The investment in the Balkans, with the engagement of experienced local professionals, lasted 14 years. Practically, 200 people across the former Yugoslavia lost their jobs in a single day. These were people who respected the rules of the profession and never stepped outside those boundaries.
Global strategy: Drown the truth in silence
Just a few months earlier, we witnessed the abrupt shutdown of decades-long media projects from America. With one decision, funding for the American Voice of America (VoA) and Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL) was cut. When Donald Trump, during his return to power in Washington, demanded the shutdown of US services that inform the world, his gesture was interpreted as a populist whim. But it was much more than that. His administration claimed that Voice of America and RFE/RL were “outdated,” run by “leftists,” and that it was time for new platforms, more flexible, faster, and less demanding. But the real message was: the truth is too expensive if it doesn’t serve power, and if it doesn’t serve those who rule.
The official explanations cannot hide what is becoming increasingly visible, all in the span of one year: a global strategy to destroy professional media is underway. Professional media are unprofitable. Or more precisely: undesirable. This year will be remembered in history as the year of the media professionals’ exodus. In that spirit, when a regional newsroom like AJB disappears, it’s not just a corporate decision. It’s the continuation of a global pattern where trust in traditional sources is first weakened, then those sources are financially undermined, and finally, they are shut down without resistance.
An island that stood in the way
Islands of reason and verified information are being sunk one by one in the global surge of populism. AJB was such an island. It asked questions. It dealt with people. It allowed complexity. In a region where polarisation is the norm and propaganda the currency, AJB journalists were not part of that matrix. Its reporters travelled, reported, and verified facts. Its editors chose tone, words, and context. And that was no small feat. Reading the gloating of regime bots in Serbia, I realise even that small island was a threat to the uniformity that destroys everything in its path. And now, when that island no longer exists, the question arises: how many news channels are left, how many islands of professional journalism?
N1 under the spotlight of power
In Serbia, the N1 newsroom lives daily under pressure, targeting, labelling, and threats. With the dismissal of Dragan Solak and Viktoriya Boklag from the leadership of United Group, the company under which N1 operates, the door has been opened for a potential crisis. There are no direct attacks or open pressure yet, no walls being torn down, but rumours are spreading. Immediately after the sale of SBB in April, the President of Serbia, who has targeted N1 in nearly every address for years, predicted that we should count the days until N1 shuts down in November 2025. How could Aleksandar Vucic know that? He says our funding is endangered. That is not true. N1 in Serbia operates profitably. So why would anyone want to shut down a TV station that has been the most-watched on the SBB network for months? The new SBB owners from Yettel must understand that customers are with them only because N1 and Nova make the difference in the market. So if we’re talking business, BC Partners and those broadcasting our channels via Yettel benefit from having us. It’s clear that profit is key for an investment fund, and our main concern is whether we’ll end up on the list for sale. We’re waiting for an answer from our owners, and that especially worries us in Serbia, because it’s clear that Vucic’s government is determined to completely destroy us. That’s why we need a clear confirmation that we are not for sale. It would be irresponsible to pretend not to see the possibility of something happening here that has already happened elsewhere. When professional standards become a burden, when independence becomes a cost, and truth a threat, uncertainty follows.
SIDA leaves – but who stays?
The shutdown of AJB, the shutdown of VoA, the struggle of RFE to survive, the potential shift in United Group’s strategy, all this is not a series of isolated incidents. It’s part of a bigger picture. Last week, another quiet but powerful message arrived: the Swedish development agency SIDA announced that by June next year, it will withdraw from the Western Balkans and Turkey. For those engaged in media freedom, human rights, and civil society development, this news resonated more deeply than it may appear. Founded in 1995 as an independent agency of Sweden’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, SIDA was one of the last stable pillars of international aid in the region. Its presence was not symbolic; it was structural. The programs covered key reforms: rule of law, human rights protection, civil society empowerment, and support for free media. The withdrawal comes at a time when many organisations are already shaken by the closure of USAID projects, and European funds are overwhelmed. This marks a new phase in the systemic weakening of the public interest infrastructure. Smaller investigative media, documentary authors, and anti-disinformation initiatives all rely on these funds just to exist. When that support disappears, it’s not only future projects that vanish. The very trust that anyone wants to sustain them disappears. SIDA’s withdrawal is not just a bilateral decision by Sweden. It’s a symptom of a broader story: that the space for free, courageous, and responsible reporting is shrinking. That we are losing allies from Europe and the world who claim to support democracy, and independent journalists are left to fend for themselves.
Chaos as a tool of control
Media are being reshaped. Not according to the public’s needs, but according to the needs of power and the powerful. Information is no longer a value in itself. It has become a weapon. And the most effective way to control the truth is not censorship, but chaos. When you have no one to trust, when “everyone is the same,” when facts are a matter of perception, then you are perfectly open to manipulation. In this strategy, professional media are not enemies; they are collateral damage.
That’s why it’s important for N1 to remain what it is. And it’s not just about survival. It’s about public interest. That every day, someone is there to ask questions, check facts, and insist on the truth. That someone draws the line between spin and propaganda. That someone says what others stay silent about. The we broadcast live what is happening on the streets. For now, we do that. With the support of our audience. With trust that wasn’t given, but earned over nearly 11 years, with a newsroom that knows why it’s here.
When darkness becomes the norm
But we all must understand: if professional journalism is being systematically extinguished around the world, we will not be spared. And that’s why we must not stay silent. Not when the lights are going out. Because when the light disappears, darkness isn’t just a consequence. Darkness becomes the rule. That’s why we must speak. And film. And write. As long as we have words, cameras, space, and an audience. No newsroom is eternal. But the idea of truth must be. Otherwise, all we’re left with is regime propaganda and chaotic, unchecked social media posts that cannot replace professional journalism, no matter how many believe they can.
Source: N1
