In public debate, “energy transition” is often presented as inevitability wrapped in optimism: cleaner power, modern technologies, new industry opportunities, cheaper renewables, and a supposedly straightforward path from coal and dependency toward sustainability and independence. But in Serbia — and much of South-East Europe — transition is not a slogan, not a trend, and certainly not something achieved by declarations. It is a structural engineering challenge, a political balancing act, a financial commitment and a question of national resilience. And in 2025, Serbia is still standing in the uncomfortable middle ground between what must happen and what the system is actually capable of delivering.
Transition requires three things above all else: capacity, reliability, and discipline. Serbia currently has fragments of each — but not yet the complete framework.
Coal still dominates Serbia’s electricity structure. It is not an ideological statement; it is a statistical fact. Lignite produces the majority of power, shapes system stability, and underwrites social calm. For millions of Serbian citizens, coal is not a political symbol — it is light in the room, heat in winter and price predictability. EPS depends on it because Serbia depends on EPS.
But coal is no longer a comfort technology. It is aging infrastructure with rising risk of breakdown, rising maintenance costs, environmental liabilities and declining social legitimacy. Every failure forces imports. Every import costs money. Every cost feeds into the financial vulnerability of the system. Serbia does not cling to coal out of nostalgia. It clings to coal because no alternative has yet replaced its stabilizing role — and transition without replacement capacity is not transition at all. It is simply risk disguised as principle.
Hydropower, long seen as Serbia’s natural strength, is no longer an automatic safety net. Climate variability has stripped away the illusion of predictability. Rainfall patterns are uncertain. River levels swing. Wet years feel like relief. Dry years feel like warning. Hydropower remains critical — flexible, domestic, strategically invaluable — but it cannot be depended upon as the eternal corrective force it once represented. In the transition equation, hydro is now a fluctuating asset, not a guaranteed stabilizer.
Renewables — wind and solar — are growing. They are technologically mature, cost-competitive in global terms, and symbolically powerful. Private capital is finally entering in meaningful volumes. Corporate buyers are pushing PPAs. Projects are being built. But renewables in Serbia, today, are still volume small and system-fragile compared to what would be required to meaningfully reduce fossil dependence. They are intermittent, which means they require balancing, which means they require flexible capacity and stronger grid infrastructure. Without balancing capability, renewables expand risk rather than lower it. Without storage, they introduce stress. Without long-term portfolio planning, they introduce volatility.
This is the essence of Serbia’s transition paradox: the country knows where it must go, but it cannot move there by wishful thinking or pressure alone. It needs heavy engineering, disciplined investment cycles, and a governance culture capable of implementing multi-year strategies without political fragmentation or episodic improvisation.
The reality is that Serbia still lacks a unified, credible, fully executable long-term power system transformation plan at the scale required. Discussions exist. Strategies are drafted. Visions appear in documents. But strategy is not documents. Strategy is power plants built, grids modernized, storage installed, contracts structured, and resilience ensured.
Meanwhile, Europe is not waiting. Carbon policy will intensify. Cross-border electricity rules will tighten. Financial institutions will continue steering capital toward lower-risk, lower-carbon infrastructures. Serbia cannot stand still in a continent moving so decisively. Standing still means drifting backward relative to everyone else.
This creates a difficult truth few like saying aloud: Serbia does not need “transition narratives.” It needs replacement baseload first. Something must reliably stand where coal currently stands. Whether that is large hydro expansions, gas-flexible generation as an interim step, pumped-storage development, or eventually nuclear reality — without stable new pillars, transition collapses into fragility.
Equally, the grid needs modernization. More renewables mean a smarter grid, stronger connections, enhanced balancing and deeper integration with regional systems. Serbia cannot have 21st-century generation sitting on 20th-century infrastructure and expect the result to be stability.
All of this requires money — serious money. Billions. Not grants sprinkled as support. Not symbolic projects. But structured financing commitments, credible reform frameworks and governance capacity strong enough to convince serious lenders that projects will be completed efficiently and operated competently.
Right now, the biggest risk to Serbia’s transition is not technology. It is timing. The world around Serbia is accelerating energy change. Regional neighbors are already building large renewable fleets, expanding storage, modernizing networks and diversifying imports. If Serbia moves slower, it does not merely stay where it is — it loses competitiveness, attractiveness for industry, and negotiating leverage in regional markets.
At the same time, aggressive, fast, poorly prepared transition would be equally dangerous. Sudden coal shutdown without replacement capacity would destroy stability, import exposure would explode, electricity prices would surge, EPS would face crisis, and public trust would collapse. Transition that ignores social and economic reality is irresponsible.
So Serbia must do something harder than “pick a side.” It must build capacity while maintaining stability. It must modernize without destabilizing. It must invest without panicking. It must change without breaking what still works. And it must do so with unusual levels of long-term discipline in a region not historically famous for it.
In 2025, therefore, Serbia’s energy transition is best described as serious but incomplete. Not fake. Not decorative. Not hopeless. But still in early structural phase — with very real risks if delay becomes habit.
What will decide whether Serbia succeeds is not ideology, nor pressure from outside, nor speeches about ambition. The deciding factors will be engineering quality, financial realism, strong governance, social fairness, and the willingness to treat energy not as politics but as national infrastructure survival.
If Serbia manages that, it will not just “transition.” It will modernize into something stronger, more resilient, more competitive, and more independent.
If it does not, then “transition” will remain a word in reports while the real system continues running on aging assets, climate dependency and expensive emergency fixes.
The difference between those two futures will be written not in narratives, but in power plants, interconnectors, storage systems and disciplined decisions — made on time.