Participants in a silent gathering in Skopje on March 18, 2025, hold a sign reading ‘Your system murdered an entire generation of the future. Kočani, 16.03.2025.’ Photo by Meta.mk, used with permission.
This commentary by Goran Rizaov was first published by Meta.mk. An edited version is republished here under a content-sharing agreement between Global Voices and Metamorphosis Foundation.
In the early morning hours of March 16, fire engulfed a discotheque called Club Pulse in Kočani, North Macedonia, resulting in the deaths of 59 people and injuring over 150. While the country and the region are still attempting to come to grips with the enormity of the tragedy, the initial investigation indicated that systemic corruption prevented implementation of necessary safety procedures. The government declared a week of mourning; meanwhile, various political forces started a campaign of preemptive silencing of critical voices, targeting independent media and civil society activists.
Последна молитва на моето тело
Црн е твојот ветар, а ноќта бела
и секој дамар напнат од зрелина.
Застани како меч во овој дрворед од тела
пред да се срушиш заслепено од белина.
Но и тогаш играта ќе продолжи пак
со иста таинственост и со иста чедност.
И тие треви што ќе те покријат со мрак
ќе изгорат во пожарот на твојата жедност.
Last Prayer of My Body
Your wind is black and white is the night,
and every vein is swollen and ripe.
In this avenue of bodies, stand straight as a sword
before you collapse, blinded by white.
But the dance even then will continue as ever,
with the same mystery, with the same innocence.
And when those grasses cover you in darkness,
the blaze of your thirst will burn them away.
Aco Šopov, “Last Prayer of my Body,” “Not-Being,” 1963 (Translated by Rawley Grau and Christina E. Kramer, “The Long Coming of the Fire,” Deep Vellum, 2023)
I decided to keep silent. Not to “piffle.” Not to ruffle feathers. To close myself at home, to lock the door, to turn off the lights and not to talk to anyone. To prevent myself from saying something wrong, otherwise they might drag me by the ears from my home.
I decided not to disturb the public with our reporting. To refrain from transmitting emotions. To not make noise. To not make photographs. To not record videos. To avoid “emotionally charged narratives.” To transmit only the official announcements by the authorities. Because the government knows best what is ethical journalism.
I also decided not to ask questions. Why ask questions, why show interest? All the questions have been answered. No need to think. There’s someone assigned to do the thinking for us.
I also decided not to read too much news to prevent harming my mental health. Especially by some so-called media outlets which are not media outlets, and by journalists who are not journalists. No need to stop watching TV now, because I’ve done that a long time ago.
I decided not to call for citizen gatherings against the system, because the system already declared that it fights against the system. The corrupt system. Successfully. If someone else calls for a rally, I should not go, in order to avoid creating crowding, as the police are more needed elsewhere.
I decided to bury in deep silence that “thing unspoken that I carry,” a thing that weighs on me and pains me, and wait for “the silence itself will say it.” I await resignations in silence.
Peaceful gathering at the main square in Skopje on March 18, 2025. Photo by Meta.mk, used with permission.
Subtle pressure for self-censorship
My use of irony is not a sign of disrespect to the families of the victims and injured in the tragedy in the improvised discotheque. On the contrary, the goal is to point out the uninhibited attempts for censorship by the government against the independent and critical media, and the attempts to take control of the narrative and divert public attention.
Since March 17, 2025, Macedonian authorities have shown their true authoritarian and censorious face, especially on the day of the funerals. The government, the regulatory bodies and the associations bombarded the media with announcements trying to prevent them from publishing anything that might be disliked by the political parties in power.
Under the guise of defending professional conduct, hidden among well known standards which are followed by any professional media anyway, the government educated the journalists what they should and what they shouldn’t photograph, what kind of video recordings they should or shouldn’t make, what kind of headlines to put, whether to have emotions or just copy their stark announcements and speeches. Under the guise of countering disinformation, an obstacle to information was erected. In effect we got the result akin to those used by authoritarian regimes attempting to suppress freedom of speech.
This led to a situation of an extremely high level of self-censorship among the Macedonian media. You would be hard pressed to find reporting on the lives of the victims, about their families, relatives, no stories of the common people, about the loss, about the successes, about the hopes and potentials, about their influence on their communities in most Macedonian media. You will not see the sorrow or hear the wailing. Because, you know, that would be too emotional.
Journalism has rules on how to interview families of victims of huge tragedies, and the experienced journalists know these rules. They treat them with dignity and respect, with sensitivity and knowledge of what kind of questions are appropriate, and also when to back down. Professional photojournalists also have their own special approach, which is also unobtrusive and respectful. However, the fact remains that it is extremely important to document such tragedies, to create a public record that would remain in media archives, to leave a trace written in the collective memory.
Unconcealed attempt to control students
A Meta.mk journalist suffered a brutal attack on social media, spreading vicious defamatory accusations that he was the organizer of student gatherings. His photograph was posted in tens of Facebook and Twitter posts alongside calls for his arrest or physical assault on him. The case was reported to the authorities, who have so far not reacted in any way.
The assault campaign took place following the publication on social media of a recording of the Minister of Education and Science Vesna Janevska giving a speech to students on the campus of the Sts. Cyril and Methodius University (UKIM), when they interrupted her with boos. They reacted to her continuing her already long speеch while some students were fainting and those around them were crying out for help and an ambulance. Several thousand university students and high school pupils had gathered on March 17 to pay respects to the victims of the Kočani tragedy. However, instead of a student gathering, the event turned into a badly managed PR event which spun out of control.
Students gathering at Sts. Cyril and Methodius University in Skopje on March 17, 2025. Photo by Meta.mk, used with permission.
Only one TV station and several online media outlets published the news that the students booed the minister. Meanwhile, the reactions on social media were a different story. The video clip was published on social media and soon became viral. That evening, a network of political party trolls (called “bots” in the Balkans) activated and started a witch-hunt via anonymous profiles and groups.
Four days later, when the minister finally appeared in public again, not one journalist, not one media outlet asked her how come she appeared at the podium together with the rector to speak at a student gathering, instead of the students. Nobody asked if she would submit her resignation because of the disrespect shown to the students at their moment of grief for their deceased colleagues, for the many young people who lost their lives and the hundreds of injured who still struggle to survive.
In her speech, the minister said many things, and also recited the lyrics from the poem “In Silence” by Aco Šopov. Yes, indeed, silence can sometimes be louder than words in pointing out the truth. But when the government is calling upon the students to keep silent, one can suspect that this is about singing a completely different kind of song.
The ministers’ speechwriter could have chosen some other poem by Šopov, something more appropriate for a student gathering about the biggest tragedy that has struck the youth of this country. “The last prayer for my body” from the poetry collection Not-Being from 1963 would have sounded more realistic on that day. But not with the voice of the minister, but from the voices of the students.