Olivera Kovačević and the Perils of Letting Artists Have Opinions
If there’s one thing Serbian public broadcaster RTS doesn’t like, it’s too much spontaneity. Especially the kind involving badges, red fists, and singers daring to raise an index finger—or a voice.
Olivera Kovačević, long-time editor of RTS’s Entertainment Department and one of the minds behind the country’s Pesma za Evroviziju (PZE), has found herself unceremoniously exited from her role. Her offence? Not putting the fear of political obedience into the participants of this year’s Eurovision selection show. In other words, letting people… be people.
According to Kovačević, she was reprimanded for not clamping down on what was deemed “invisible guidance” during PZE25—gestures and songs interpreted as support for ongoing student protests. And let’s face it: in today’s Serbia, a red fist may carry more weight than a chorus line.
“I didn’t want to censor anyone,” she explained. “This year’s show proved that RTS is open to all citizens and that artists have the right to express themselves—as long as no one’s throwing chairs or burning flags.” A refreshing sentiment in a time when editorial neutrality often means erasing anything remotely critical.
But wait—there’s more. Not only did she allow the artists to express themselves, she also had the audacity to sign an internal letter supporting journalistic standards, publicly back protesting students, and file a lawsuit against President Aleksandar Vučić for spreading falsehoods about her and the contest.
In short: she committed the mortal sin of having principles.
Despite the final of Pesma za Evroviziju 2025 being broadcast on the official Eurovision YouTube channel—without a single raised eyebrow from the EBU—it was local pro-government media that led the charge against her, citing a complaint to the EBU that, incidentally, holds no authority over national selections. But when has accuracy ever been fashionable in propaganda?
Kovačević reminded everyone she’s been with RTS since 2006 and was behind countless formats, from “Bunt Rock Festival” to “Luda Noć”. She helped commemorate the 100 years since WWI, 60 years of Serbian television, and now—perhaps unintentionally—the death of editorial independence.
Her final statement is one for the books: “I was never an advisor to the director general—or anyone else for that matter. I was just doing my job. Maybe a little too well.”
In an entertainment industry increasingly allergic to dissent, Olivera Kovačević chose not to play deaf. And for that, she was shown the door. Curtain down—applause, please.
Source: N1
