The beginning of 2024 was a period of unrest for several Central and Eastern European (CEE) countries. In Slovakia, a series of protests erupted over Prime Minister Robert Fico’s plan to weaken the country’s anticorruption infrastructure. Meanwhile, in Albania, demonstrators took to the streets alleging corruption in the cabinet, demanding investigations, seeking the end of retaliatory investigations against opposition figures, and pushing for the ouster of corrupt officials. And journalists in Croatia turned out in masses to protest a whistleblowing law that would make the investigation of misconduct more difficult.

These aren’t the first anticorruption protests in CEE, and they won’t be the last. Over the past decade, citizens in CEE countries have become much more attuned to the problem of corruption and to their governments’ failure to do much about it. The result has been numerous episodes of citizen-based anticorruption movements. But while such movements have great potential for spurring meaningful change, many have proved ineffective. Why is this? Examining past episodes—for example, in Bulgaria, Slovakia, and the Balkans—may help us better understand the conditions under which anticorruption demonstrations succeed. These past episodes offer a few key lessons:

• Be specific about goals. Protests have the most impact when they advance concrete, practical demands, and when they clearly communicate those demands to the public and to the government. Examples of clear goals include the suspension of an investigation, the repeal or withdrawal of a dangerous law, or the implementation of a set of reforms. A number of these proposals were put forth by the 2020 anticorruption protests in Bulgaria. Although the protests began as a public outcry against endemic corruption, organizers did a commendable job translating that anger into specific, concrete demands. In the end, the movement was successful in securing the resignation of corrupt politicians and in bringing anticorruption reform proposals to the table.
• Messaging is essential. It’s obvious that getting your message across is important. But prior protests teach us several lessons about how to do so. First, one notable feature of past movements—including those in Montenegro and Bulgaria—is that they make use of visual, auditory, or other direct evidence of corruption to fuel public anger and motivate turnout. Activists also took care to publicize revelations of misconduct as they arose, such that each story become a boost to the movement. Second, some movements have found success in messaging on the international stage: sometimes pressure from other countries can be just as important as domestic pressure, sometimes more so. Finally, the more effective movements strove to communicate a nonpartisan and ideologically neutral message, focusing on good governance rather than policy disagreements with the incumbent government. This lesson admittedly stands in some tension with the suggestion above that a protest movement might demand the resignation of one or more specific government officials, as this sort of demand could be seen as partisan or ideological. Protest leaders must be mindful of this and take care not to focus on demands that could make it too easy to characterize the protestors as a tool of the political opposition. In Montenegro, Serbia, and Albania, such accusations undermined the effectiveness of promising anticorruption movements (see here, here, and here).
• Focus on the long term. Many protest movements lose momentum after a short-term goal has been achieved. That’s likely inevitable—but movement leaders should be ready to reignite demonstrations if and when problems recur. Slovakia is a model in this regard. In 2018, the Slovakian public took to the streets in retaliation for the murder of a journalist who was investigating ties between the government and organized crime. The public’s goal was the resignation of corrupt government officials like Prime Minister Robert Fico. Fico did resign, but the demonstrators were wise enough to continue their efforts. They used their momentum to pursue additional concrete goals, like an independent investigation into the murder, greater civic engagement, the termination of other implicated officials, and a commitment to honest governance by future leaders. As Fico continued to exercise political influence following his resignation, protestors caught on and continued demonstrating accordingly. Eventually, Fico returned to power, and he has since threatened to weaken the country’s anticorruption laws even further. But the resumption of protest activity following Fico’s election has helped stall his efforts. Of course, protests take a lot of time, energy, and resources—keeping the movement alive isn’t simple. At the same time, protestors should take care to avoid a situation where the government makes a concession that they later revoke or evade.

Demonstrations are by nature cathartic and reactive. But to maximize their role in shaping national anticorruption policy, participants must also strive to be strategic, intentional, and forward-looking. That’s easier said than done. However, with the leadership of organizers who are attuned to the lessons of past movements, it is far more achievable. Every country is, of course, different, and what is effective in one case might not work in a different national and political context. Some lessons are even in tension with one another, like the importance of setting goals that are both specific enough to get the point across, and yet broad enough to make changes that actually last. Still, confronting these tensions and identifying common trends is essential if this anticorruption protest wave is to have a lasting impact.