On 15 March 2025, at least fifty-nine lives were lost in a nightclub fire in Kočani, a small town in eastern Macedonia. The victims, mostly young people aged fourteen and up, perished in the flames or from smoke inhalation. The number of critically injured is at least twice as high as those deceased.
A concert by the popular band DNK had gathered around 500 attendees from surrounding small towns. But in that desolate region, with so many young people emigrating for a better life, where could such an event even be held? The remains of the so-called nightclub hold the answer – it was nothing more than a crumbling house, a former carpet warehouse. A shed, a warehouse – call it what you will, but certainly not a venue for entertainment, let alone one equipped for pyrotechnics! The fire reportedly started due to fireworks meant to ‘ignite the atmosphere’.
Expressions of condolence are pouring in, but the full magnitude of the catastrophe is best captured in one image: the charred ruins have become an image of a country in which nothing works. Hospitals were quickly overwhelmed, while families were searching for their missing children. At last, a few foreign countries took over the care of critically wounded persons.
Macedonia has witnessed such horror before. The first event that comes to mind is the 2021 fire at the modular hospital in Tetovo. That night, as Skopje celebrated Independence Day with fireworks, the fire reduced the hospital to ashes. It took fourteen lives in minutes – twelve bedridden COVID-19 patients and two relatives.
In that case, the building had been hastily constructed in violation of fire safety standards, despite containing oxygen cylinders. Four years later, we know exactly who approved it, who failed to enforce regulations, and who posed for public relations photos when it was inaugurated. Yet, no one has been held accountable. The blame was placed on a faulty cable. Even the health minister’s resignation at the time was rejected – today, he is the opposition leader, and the ‘modular hospital’ has vanished from his record.
This is just one of many scandals that expose the state’s disregard for the poor and vulnerable. Consider the corruption scandal at the country’s main oncology department, where chemotherapy drugs were sold on the black market while cancer patients received saline instead of treatment. Any accountability? No – just a parliamentary inquiry committee – and then silence.
Now, the crucial questions about the nightclub must be asked. Who allowed a dilapidated house to be used as a gathering place for young people? How could such a large-scale event take place without authorities ensuring fire safety, emergency exits, and evacuation plans?
The answer is simple: people will sell their souls for money. Some rented out the ‘nightclub’, others played a concert there for profit, and officials turned a blind eye. Knowing the impoverished environment these children came from, this was likely their only option for a night out. Because they lacked the means or opportunity to go anywhere better, they went to the nearest makeshift venue – and lost their lives. Tragedies, too, have a class dimension. This is nothing new, but it bears repeating.
The phrase now capturing public anger is the same as the one from the modular hospital tragedy: ‘The cable is to blame’. The real tragedy is that no one, absolutely no one, believes in justice, accountability, or responsibility – least of all those in power.
In May 2014, during the catastrophic Balkan floods, Croatian activist Srećko Horvat summed up the crisis in one sentence: ‘Under the surface of the floods lies a social disaster’. Though he was describing a natural calamity, his words remain just as relevant today. A social catastrophe is unfolding in the entire Balkan region – an absence of the rule of law, eroded institutions, austerity, and an inability to self-organize.
The real issue is a system that masquerades as democracy but, in reality, enables kakistocracy – rule by the least competent and most corrupt. And not just in politics, but everywhere: from university professors to inspectors, doctors, judges, and engineers.
The public knows the diagnosis, but despair has set in. On social media, after the criminal negligence of the most recent tragedy, a wave of resignation spread. A fellow professor wrote:
‘I deeply believe that our country needs a complete reset – from the top down, in every aspect of life. And if that isn’t possible, then there is no other option but to “turn off the lights” and “lock the doors” (it’s no coincidence that our country is emptying at an unprecedented rate). There is hardly a single sector without corruption, nepotism, charlatanism, improvisation, or party control. For most people, corruption has become a normal “way of life”’.
The system kills – through greed, incompetence, and clientelism.
The only question is: will there be resistance? Will those responsible be named? Will any politician take moral or political responsibility?
The political leadership appears both determined to tackle the metastasising corruption (primarily by blaming their political opponents) and insistent that the public mourn in silence – alone, without expressing anger. However, the presence of political figures delivering speeches and reciting poetry at the spontaneous student protests on the plaza in front of the largest university in Skopje has had the opposite effect.
The fear of a potential ‘Serbian scenario’ – mass youth protests – is palpable in the air. The situation remains volatile, not only in Kočani but across the country. Regular daily gatherings were scheduled to begin as of Tuesday, 18 March.
