Over the past several years, a familiar refrain has begun circulating in policy circles, research communities, and even among practitioners themselves: “The NGO sector is fading. People are exhausted. The model has run its course.” It is a sentiment easy to understand. After three decades of donor-driven cycles, workshops, project reports, and advocacy campaigns, many organizations feel overstretched. Many communities feel disengaged. And many governments feel defensive or fatigued by what they perceive as constant criticism.

Over the past several years, a familiar refrain has begun circulating in policy circles, research communities, and even among practitioners themselves: "The NGO sector is fading. People are exhausted. The model has run its course." It is a sentiment easy to understand. After three decades of donor-driven cycles, workshops, project reports, and advocacy campaigns, many organizations feel overstretched. Many communities feel disengaged. And many governments feel defensive or fatigued by what they perceive as constant criticism.

Yet my own work, particularly in the field of Serbia-Kosovo normalization, has shown me something different and far more hopeful. In this highly complex and politically sensitive space, where diplomacy, everyday life, technical negotiations, and regional politics intersect, genuine partnerships between public administration and civil society have proven transformative. When these two sectors work side by side, even quietly and imperfectly, they can move issues forward that political leadership alone has left frozen for years.

A telling example is the agreement on mutual recognition of university diplomas between Serbia and Kosovo, reached in the very early phases of the EU-facilitated dialogue in 2011. On paper, it seemed like one of those "small but meaningful" technical steps that could improve everyday life and build trust. It promised to allow young doctors, engineers, architects, and students to pursue careers or education across the boundary without endless paperwork, unpredictable procedures, or the anxiety of being told their degree "doesn’t exist." For a region in which mobility and recognition are often politicized, this was huge.

In practice, however, almost nothing happened. Without sustained political will, public institutions simply did not move. Bureaucracies are inherently cautious; they rarely take initiative on politically delicate issues without clear signals. Ministers changed, political priorities shifted, tensions escalated, and implementation remained stalled. The agreement existed on paper, but not in people's lives. Then civil society stepped in. Organizations from Belgrade, Pristina, and beyond began documenting the gap between commitments and reality. They spoke to students who had completed medical school but could not take a residency exam, to engineers who were offered jobs but could not prove the validity of their diplomas, to universities that wanted to cooperate but had no administrative mechanism to do so. Initiatives like the Big Deal project systematically tracked the implementation of dialogue agreements, publishing data, reports, and recommendations that brought clarity to an otherwise opaque process.

Their work did something subtle but powerful: it created both external pressure and internal justification. Public officials who quietly wanted to push the process forward now had evidence, arguments, and support. The reports made it harder for decision-makers to ignore the issue, and easier for administrative staff to explain why they needed to act. Civil society, in many ways, became the link between political agreements and everyday bureaucracy.

Stayed tuned for PART II, coming DEC 16