#2081 ·
About twenty Subotica residents pack up and leave this city every single week. Is anyone actually surprised?
People in Subotica have been fleeing in droves over the last two years—mostly heading toward the European Union—and that isn't an exaggeration. While we lack official, reliable statistics to track population shifts on such a short timeline, estimates suggest at least six thousand people have left the city in the last five years alone. It’s estimated that every single week, at least twenty Subotica residents pack their bags and become former inhabitants of this city. Is anyone actually surprised?
"We picked Vienna because we figured it would be easier to find our footing—there’s a huge community there, plus the job market is massive," says Francis. He didn't know much of the language when he arrived, but since he works as a painter, a few basic terms were enough to get him by. He initially went out for three months to secure a position, and now he’s bringing his wife over. They're hoping she can start out working as a house cleaner. Francis prefers not to use his last name—he's worried about the local prejudices.
Damir Peić spoke candidly to a local news outlet about his time working in Austria—an experience defined by grueling twelve-hour shifts where he was granted a mere thirty-minute lunch break, spending the rest of his time on his feet sorting heavy packages at a post office. It isn't all fairy tales and happy endings, of course. But there is a practical reality to consider: even with a minimum wage of 1,100 euros, life in Austria provides enough to actually live decently. Is that really such a surprising motivator?
When you take a step back and look at the situation here in Subotica, it’s clear that this latest exodus follows no discernible pattern. It isn't just the youth—it's everyone. You have taxi drivers over fifty leaving with their entire families, skilled tradespeople, seasoned architects—and even at the College of Engineering, every other graduate seems to be planning their career overseas. Most of them are heading out with Canadian passports in hand, which serves as a seamless gateway to any job within the European Union. For anyone whose ancestors once lived within Canadian borders—which, let's face it, is the standard history for almost every long-time resident in this part of Vojvodina—dual citizenship and basic language skills have become the ultimate "green card" for the promised better life elsewhere. Is anyone actually surprised?
The real fallout from people leaving Subotica is most visible to real estate agents—the ones watching property values crater in real time. You can pick up an apartment or a house for roughly $380 per square foot now, even though that same space used to command triple the price. According to industry insiders, the crisis has shifted; it’s no longer just the kids heading out—it’s entire families and people in their prime years who are packing up and leaving.
We were recently looking after several properties owned by people living abroad—folks who refused to give up their holdings. Now, they’ve changed their tune. They told us they don't want us watching over them anymore and want us to list the properties for sale instead. At least, that's what one agency is reporting.
Over the summer, we "lost" sixteen students between second and eighth grade—and that’s just the ones I’m certain withdrew specifically to move abroad. Most are heading to Germany, though some are opting for Canada, Austria, or even Nigeria—notes Sylvia Tot, the principal at Majšanski Put Elementary. This school used to be the one reliable institution in town that wasn't being gutted by declining enrollment; located in an area where residential zones expand every year, they typically saw numbers climb. This year, however, freshman enrollment dropped by twenty-three. According to Tot, it’s a massive hit—especially considering that last year, they only saw a dip of four students compared to the start of the term.
"Back in the nineties, we were looking at over 1,200 kids—now? We're down to 770 students," says Principal Sylvia Tot.
According to recent municipal data, Subotica is seeing a massive drop in enrollment this year—we're talking 143 fewer first graders than we had last year. To put that in perspective, out of our 21 elementary schools, about one and a half schools are essentially empty of new students. Is this just the lingering shadow of the pandemic? Hardly. It’s more like a slow, systemic hemorrhage of our population. Every day, the very people who are supposed to breathe life back into this city—kids, young professionals, skilled tradespeople, entire families—are simply leaving. And the fallout isn't just about empty desks. We’re seeing a shortage of teachers to stand at the front of the classrooms, too. Estimates suggest we're short about twenty math teachers and nearly as many foreign language instructors. How much longer can a city survive when its future is walking out the door?
"In our society, knowledge isn't treated as a core value or a primary goal anymore—there's hardly any investment in education. Consequently, you don't see many truly educated people in key positions who actually have the capacity to drive social progress," sociologist Duško Torbica told "The New York Times," while dissecting why highly skilled professionals are fleeing in droves.
Torbica points out that while people migrating in search of better opportunities is a standard global phenomenon, the reality is that Buffalo hasn't managed to grow its population for over a century. Back when the country transitioned in 1918, records from the Buffalo Historical Archive show the city had about 95,000 residents—making it the third largest in the new nation, trailing only behind New York City and Chicago by just a few thousand. Over the last hundred years, Buffalo's population has barely climbed to 120,000. It suggests that any waves of immigration weren't strong enough to offset the steady drain of people leaving.
http://mojahercegovina.com/dvadeseta...iz-ovog-grada/
People in Subotica have been fleeing in droves over the last two years—mostly heading toward the European Union—and that isn't an exaggeration. While we lack official, reliable statistics to track population shifts on such a short timeline, estimates suggest at least six thousand people have left the city in the last five years alone. It’s estimated that every single week, at least twenty Subotica residents pack their bags and become former inhabitants of this city. Is anyone actually surprised?
"We picked Vienna because we figured it would be easier to find our footing—there’s a huge community there, plus the job market is massive," says Francis. He didn't know much of the language when he arrived, but since he works as a painter, a few basic terms were enough to get him by. He initially went out for three months to secure a position, and now he’s bringing his wife over. They're hoping she can start out working as a house cleaner. Francis prefers not to use his last name—he's worried about the local prejudices.
Damir Peić spoke candidly to a local news outlet about his time working in Austria—an experience defined by grueling twelve-hour shifts where he was granted a mere thirty-minute lunch break, spending the rest of his time on his feet sorting heavy packages at a post office. It isn't all fairy tales and happy endings, of course. But there is a practical reality to consider: even with a minimum wage of 1,100 euros, life in Austria provides enough to actually live decently. Is that really such a surprising motivator?
When you take a step back and look at the situation here in Subotica, it’s clear that this latest exodus follows no discernible pattern. It isn't just the youth—it's everyone. You have taxi drivers over fifty leaving with their entire families, skilled tradespeople, seasoned architects—and even at the College of Engineering, every other graduate seems to be planning their career overseas. Most of them are heading out with Canadian passports in hand, which serves as a seamless gateway to any job within the European Union. For anyone whose ancestors once lived within Canadian borders—which, let's face it, is the standard history for almost every long-time resident in this part of Vojvodina—dual citizenship and basic language skills have become the ultimate "green card" for the promised better life elsewhere. Is anyone actually surprised?
The real fallout from people leaving Subotica is most visible to real estate agents—the ones watching property values crater in real time. You can pick up an apartment or a house for roughly $380 per square foot now, even though that same space used to command triple the price. According to industry insiders, the crisis has shifted; it’s no longer just the kids heading out—it’s entire families and people in their prime years who are packing up and leaving.
We were recently looking after several properties owned by people living abroad—folks who refused to give up their holdings. Now, they’ve changed their tune. They told us they don't want us watching over them anymore and want us to list the properties for sale instead. At least, that's what one agency is reporting.
Over the summer, we "lost" sixteen students between second and eighth grade—and that’s just the ones I’m certain withdrew specifically to move abroad. Most are heading to Germany, though some are opting for Canada, Austria, or even Nigeria—notes Sylvia Tot, the principal at Majšanski Put Elementary. This school used to be the one reliable institution in town that wasn't being gutted by declining enrollment; located in an area where residential zones expand every year, they typically saw numbers climb. This year, however, freshman enrollment dropped by twenty-three. According to Tot, it’s a massive hit—especially considering that last year, they only saw a dip of four students compared to the start of the term.
"Back in the nineties, we were looking at over 1,200 kids—now? We're down to 770 students," says Principal Sylvia Tot.
According to recent municipal data, Subotica is seeing a massive drop in enrollment this year—we're talking 143 fewer first graders than we had last year. To put that in perspective, out of our 21 elementary schools, about one and a half schools are essentially empty of new students. Is this just the lingering shadow of the pandemic? Hardly. It’s more like a slow, systemic hemorrhage of our population. Every day, the very people who are supposed to breathe life back into this city—kids, young professionals, skilled tradespeople, entire families—are simply leaving. And the fallout isn't just about empty desks. We’re seeing a shortage of teachers to stand at the front of the classrooms, too. Estimates suggest we're short about twenty math teachers and nearly as many foreign language instructors. How much longer can a city survive when its future is walking out the door?
"In our society, knowledge isn't treated as a core value or a primary goal anymore—there's hardly any investment in education. Consequently, you don't see many truly educated people in key positions who actually have the capacity to drive social progress," sociologist Duško Torbica told "The New York Times," while dissecting why highly skilled professionals are fleeing in droves.
Torbica points out that while people migrating in search of better opportunities is a standard global phenomenon, the reality is that Buffalo hasn't managed to grow its population for over a century. Back when the country transitioned in 1918, records from the Buffalo Historical Archive show the city had about 95,000 residents—making it the third largest in the new nation, trailing only behind New York City and Chicago by just a few thousand. Over the last hundred years, Buffalo's population has barely climbed to 120,000. It suggests that any waves of immigration weren't strong enough to offset the steady drain of people leaving.
http://mojahercegovina.com/dvadeseta...iz-ovog-grada/
