Good morning! DPS was removed from power in Budva in 2016, and they have not been in power at the national level for five years now. Children who were in third or fourth grade when the change of government began now have the right to vote. Students who were in their final year of primary school during the time of the religious processions are now voting and enrolling in universities. When will we stop talking about DPS and start holding legally and morally accountable those who have been steering our fate for the past five years?
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When will the prosecution and arrests of the new powerholders begin?
Time goes by, and Montenegro remains politically stuck—trapped in the rearview mirror, caught in an endless story about the DPS. But while we obsessively criticise those who no longer hold the levers of power, do we ever seriously—beyond surface-level critique—ask what those who have been running the country for the past five years are actually doing?
Because it’s not true that the DPS era was completely stagnant. On the contrary, there were numerous cases that, despite all the cynicism and political pressure, at least gave the formal illusion that the rule of law was functioning. In Budva, more than eighty local officials were prosecuted—mayors, directors of public companies, councillors, businesspeople, and even former state leader Svetozar Marovic. Though the regime aimed at self-preservation, it was clear that some baggage had to be thrown overboard to survive. And they did it—they distanced themselves from Dusko Knezevic, financiers, board heads, former ministers and directors—trying to show Europe a willingness for “self-correction.”
Let there be no misunderstanding—I don’t believe any of those processes were clean, nor that their motives were noble. But still, something was happening. At some point, you could at least open a newspaper and see someone close to power facing consequences. Today, under supposedly “new people,” that no longer happens. Despite all the talk of a fresh start, every scandal is buried before it even begins. Everything boils down to excuses, quiet deals, and a campaign against the “former,” even though the “current” ones are well into their second or third term in power, depending on who you’re looking at.
Since the DPS lost the elections in 2020, only one serious action has been taken against individuals from the current power structure in Montenegro—the one that briefly touched Rade Milosevic. And that only happened because he was entangled with former members of the “old guard.” Milo Bozovic is another example—a man who ended up in prison because he got too comfortable in his own backyard. As for the rest? Either handled with kid gloves, or completely untouchable.
And where is the Sky correspondence today? Where are the text message exchanges? Where are the drug trafficking networks? Who are today’s powerbrokers, who are the tycoons, who is financing political parties, who is reselling state assets? During the DPS era, at least we knew the names—we knew who was who, who was being tracked, who was panicking, and who was protected. Today, we know nothing. Investigative journalism has been reduced to the “Pulse of the Asphalt” crime column by Jelena Jovanovic, which leads nowhere. Major investigations have been replaced by retellings of conversations between criminals.
There is no investigative journalism anymore. Instead of tackling key questions of power, money, and corruption in real time, the focus is solely on recycling the past. Exceptions prove the rule, but even those rare exceptions are increasingly becoming tools of political score-settling, depending on who sits in whose office.
Therefore, it is legitimate to ask—can Montenegro fight organised crime in the current moment? Instead of obsessively focusing on the legacy of the DPS, can we finally address the new power structures? As a society and a state. Or will we only analyse the schemes of today’s “anti-corruption activists” ten or fifteen years from now, while their successors promise the “final reckoning with the past”?
Because history teaches us that, unfortunately, Montenegro has a poor memory. As long as we continue to look for all the culprits solely in the past, the present will remain incomprehensible, and the future—robbed in advance.
That’s all for today and this week. See you again on Monday.
Kind regards,
Ljubomir Filipovic, CdM analyst and columnist
(Columnists’ opinions and views do not necessarily reflect those of the CdM editorial team)
