I remember, quite a few years ago now, participating in a seminar on how communities can defend themselves from state and capitalist urban destruction. The topic was very close to my heart, and that seminar—along with many other things I would later read, take part in, and experience in the years to come—had a significant impact on me. Over time, all of this led me to the conviction that direct democracy, based on local communities, is the form of society we should strive toward if we want to solve the problems we face as a society (capitalism, climate change, environmental destruction…).

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However, a certain seed of doubt remained from that seminar. On the first day—when we were all introducing ourselves—one of the participants said he was from an association that promotes precisely direct-democratic decision-making. Since I had never heard of that association before, I was curious to find out more about what they do, and maybe connect with them in some way. They turned out to be nothing like I had expected.

Their social media pages were mostly dedicated to holding “referendums” on various controversial issues—such as LGBT+ rights, banning Pride, expelling migrants from the country, and the like. After conducting the “votes” on their platforms, they would promote the results (which mostly aligned with the dominant conservative positions in society) along with comments about how everything would be better if “the people” directly decided on everything, instead of having things like LGBT+ people or nonwhite people in public spaces “imposed” on us.

Because of things like this, a frequent argument against direct democracy (and sometimes against democracy in general) is that it would reduce politics to mob politics—that instead of serious reflection, expertise, and protection for minority groups, we would have the tyranny of the majority, which simply isn’t informed enough to make decisions on sensitive issues. This argument is not entirely baseless. We only need to look at the phenomenon of so-called NIMBY (“Not in My Backyard”)—local (often more privileged) communities that organize to prevent something needed and beneficial for society as a whole—such as social housing or wind farms—from being built in their area. This phenomenon has been sharply criticized by progressive activists in the United States, especially those from Black communities who are often the targets of such initiatives.

Of course, this might also sound familiar to some people here. Attempts to house Roma communities in social housing in urban areas have often, unfortunately, met fierce resistance from existing residents, accompanied by extremely racist rhetoric. When certain people are asked about “local problems,” some of the first things that come to their minds are the presence of homeless people, migrants, the poor, “junkies,” and others who “dirty” their community. Instead of understanding the structures that lead people into such situations, the blame is placed on individuals, along with a selfish desire to simply move them somewhere else.

So the question arises: why should queer people (and other discriminated groups) be enthusiastic about the current wave of direct democracy appearing in our society? Why should we attend assemblies or plenums if there’s a chance we’ll be exposed to discomfort or potential mob anger?

Winning Freedom

It should be noted here that achieving the goals of the current movement would in itself likely be positive for the queer community. The things that students and citizens are demanding—that the law apply to everyone, that violence and repression stop—are prerequisites for securing the rights of any group in society, whether queer people, Roma, workers, women, or anyone else. On the other hand, the current government has shown an ambivalent stance toward LGBT+ rights; while some members of the ruling parties have expressed support and been (to some extent) willing to listen to LGBT+ activists, others have very openly spread homophobic and transphobic views and policies. Perhaps the clearest example was in 2022, when biology textbooks mentioning transgender and intersex people were pulled from the curriculum; or when Minister for Human and Minority Rights and Social Dialogue Gordana Čomić’s initiative for a law on same-sex partnerships was quietly stopped after the President of Serbia openly said he would try to block such a law if it came to him.

Of course, things could always be worse. In earlier years, the “opposition” included parties with extremely transphobic and homophobic platforms, such as Dveri, Dosta je bilo, Zavetnici, and others. If some of these groups replaced the current government, things could become drastically worse for the queer community in Serbia. However, over time these groups have become increasingly marginal—some have openly joined the ruling coalition, while others have simply lost relevance and public support. If some of the parties currently loosely referred to as the “opposition” came to power tomorrow, we could expect the position of the LGBT+ community in society to improve. At the very least, we could expect things not to get worse for us—while they might improve for society as a whole, of which we are also a part.

So, fighting against the current regime is definitely queer. That’s why the queer community has been present at protests in one way or another for years, while many LGBT+ organizations have openly supported current student demands. However, within this movement we are not only talking about fighting the government—we are also thinking about how democracy itself should and can function. Assemblies and plenums are not led by the “opposition,” nor do they have clear programs or defined policies. They are simply made up of the community that gathers around them—nothing more. That means we cannot guarantee what the outcome for queer people would be if these institutions continued to exist and grow in importance after the protests and blockades “end” (however that might look).

Is there then a danger that such bodies could make populist decisions to strip LGBT+ people of their rights—perhaps in a way similar to the “LGBT-free zones” declared by some local governments in Poland? There certainly is. Society is unpredictable and consists of all sorts of people; it’s possible that someone might try to push such an initiative if these decision-making methods became established. However, there are also ways this could be avoided. One strength of direct democracy, based on people in a community meeting, getting to know each other, and working together over time, is that it reduces the alienation often present in modern society. You are less likely to fear or hate someone if it’s a person you know, see often, and who perhaps helped you (or your community) when you needed it. This kind of “micro” spread of acceptance and tolerance has historically been seen, for example, in trade union organizing, where workers, through their shared struggle, gradually broke down prejudices by getting to know each other and collaborating. This has led many unions to adopt the rights of ethnic minorities, LGBT+ people, women, and other vulnerable groups among their members as part of their platform and demands.

In other words, forming a genuinely interconnected community is a factor that can help overcome differences. In the student movement, this can perhaps already be seen in cases where individual students have been attacked on racial, gender, or sexual grounds, and plenums stood in their defense—not necessarily because everyone there was otherwise principled in their anti-racism, pro-queer, feminist positions, but primarily because that solidarity led to defending those who belong to it, and to the understanding that such attacks are unacceptable.

On the other hand, if such bodies are formalized, there can also be formal protection mechanisms for community members who are different. Already, many assemblies have codes of conduct prohibiting discrimination on any basis during meetings. Of course, such mechanisms are only as effective as their enforcement; Serbia itself has anti-discrimination laws and procedures that are mostly not applied. When defining principles of operation, it is always important to have a clear idea of how to ensure they are respected. This can sometimes be addressed by creating oversight bodies, complaint procedures, appointing responsible persons, and other mechanisms, depending on the context. However, if a certain direct-democratic body does not define itself as anti-discriminatory but actively pursues discriminatory policies, this can also be addressed by having other assemblies/plenums/etc. condemn these policies and take measures against the body that adopted them. Of course, we still live in a society where representative institutions exist, so they could also intervene; but in a truly different system, this role could be played by a council of assemblies/plenums, which would define its own principles and procedures and then sanction members who violate them.

The fact that citizens are continuously directly involved in political decision-making also plays an important role here. Many people hold discriminatory views simply because they have never had to think too much about the people those views target. If they were more active in their community, they would have more opportunities (and willingness) to educate themselves politically, learn new things, and consult with experts in various fields on which they would be making decisions.

Still, there is another factor in this constellation that I think is perhaps the most important.

Community Autonomy

The most important principle of direct democracy—and what, in my view, distinguishes it from mere populism—is that different communities have autonomy in their work, activities, and decision-making. This is clear when it comes to geographically concentrated minority groups that are often ghettoized or otherwise spatially separated—as is the case, for example, with Roma settlements, Hungarian neighborhoods and villages in Vojvodina, and the like. In such cases, the assemblies will by their nature be predisposed to deal with the problems of the groups primarily living in those areas, such as linguistic and cultural issues, discrimination, etc. The same applies to poor neighborhoods, working-class districts, the urban–rural divide—but also to historical examples where queer people concentrated in specific parts of cities, forming a higher percentage of the population there, such as the Tenderloin in San Francisco or Greenwich Village in New York.[1]

However, what should be done in cases where a certain group is diffusely spread throughout society more or less evenly—as is the case with LGBT+ people (or women, or ethnic minority groups in less spatially segregated cities)? I believe that in such cases it is important to have non-geographical autonomy in organizing these communities. A somewhat similar model was advocated by the Bundists—a Jewish socialist group in Eastern Europe in the early 20th century—for Jews in the Russian Empire, Poland, and elsewhere, who often lived intermingled with the rest of the population. In the radical-democratic region of northeastern Syria (better known as Rojava), their directly democratic, decentralized system from the outset included women’s communes as part of each broader territorial commune. In these, women meet separately from men to discuss society from their own perspective, without censorship, where they can speak more openly about their problems as women. In these communes, they make their own autonomous decisions, which they then present, discuss, and implement in the broader, joint bodies.

A similar approach can be seen in the functioning of political parties or trade unions that have autonomous organizations made up of, for example, their LGBT+ members. These groups also make their own decisions, hold their own events and actions, and give recommendations on LGBT+ policies to the rest of the party/union/other larger organization.

All these models, in my view, can serve as signposts for how direct democracy can be “queer.” In the current situation (or perhaps in the near future), my feeling is that it would make sense to establish Queer Assemblies—starting at the city level, and if there is a need, perhaps more locally at the level of municipal communities. These bodies would serve to bring together the entire interested queer community in a given place, to discuss openly their problems, formulate their own actions, define the community’s needs and issues, and organize to address them. They would, of course, operate in cooperation with other, broader bodies—coordinating joint actions, providing advice, and striving to find the best solutions—not only for the problems of the queer community, but for the whole society we all share. Similar bodies could be formed, depending on the needs, for queer students, queer workers—but also for women, ethnic minorities, people with disabilities…

The model of mass democratic organizing can be applied to the vast majority of groups and problems in society. It may not always be appropriate (sometimes decisions need to be made by experts, by smaller groups, and sometimes people want to associate in more limited, closed groups—which is also legitimate), but it is the foundation on which a different, freer, and potentially more inclusive society can be built. Over the years, the LGBT+ community in Serbia has had many criticisms of how LGBT+ organizations operate—sometimes justified, sometimes not. If we were to organize in this way—so that each of us could come, participate, and make decisions, regardless of who we know, where we work, or whether we have a funded project—then we would also have a more representative picture of our desires, needs, and differences, as well as ways to overcome them.

If all of this makes sense to you, then let’s go to the assemblies too.

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Footnotes:

1. For an interesting example of lesbian spatial politics, we recommend a text translated by the author, which deals with lesbian squatting and clustering into neighborhoods in 1970s London: https://infotekack13.wordpress.com/2023/08/28/kvir-komsiluci-lezbejski-skvotovi-u-london-fildsu

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Published at talas.org.rs, May 5, 2025